October 17th, xxxx (Evening)
KAMIL HAS THE SAME idea as him.
Fred from the counselling of the Elders, outside of the room holding a mug of tepid coffee, Precious decides to take a stroll under the umbrella of the evening sky as it changes to dusk, a reward to himself.
Tie askew, suit crumpled, jacket flapping open, hair a mess, feet in slippers, he looks and feels overworked. Confined for hours in a low glow room because of the Elders sensitive eyes, it takes a while for his sight to adjust, for his hearing to balance.
On his meandering, he greets children, parents, workers, the adults congratulates him with big smiles, the teenagers pats his arm and gives him a thumbs up for a 'job well done'.
He encounters patrols—on their duty, tight-lipped and serious, they reverence him with a salute—before marching their way.
He sees Kamil at the incline of the canyon playing fetch with Community Princess the Labrador retriever, a bundle of energy running back and forth, tail wagging, tongue swishing.
Precious momentarily stop, watching the interaction between dog and owner, or rather the Shifter she seems to favour more than the rest of them. A gift at one, pampered and loved by everyone but for some reason glued to Kamil.
Now two years old, the two have been nearly inseparable, much so he hears she occasionally sleeps in the same bed as he. A good thing considering a dog is considered everyone's best friend.
Precious isn't privy to the daily working of the Major but he knows that though he's friendly to everyone, off the top of his head can't think of someone whom he can point and say is the Shifter's best friend.
It takes one to know one, he guess.
When the Shifter sits on his hunkers, the thin black shirt he wears rides up and Precious spots the scar circling his waist, his stomach drops at the sight, at the memory, the blood. So much blood.
He recalls the broken bones, broken teeth, broken collarbones, weak breathing, convulsing. Then the bloodied eyes, the vomiting, the baldness, the first words. The first smile.
His fingers flexes as his arm raised goosebumps recalling the fading warmth of the dead girl, how small and light she felt, how her head against his chest doesn't hear his beating chest, how he doesn't hear hers.
If he felt misplaced, how worse had it been for Kamil? Waking up to find her dead. He bows his head, blinking furiously at the orange ground under his slippers but brings his head at his reflection in the mug.
The dark of his hair, of his eyes hides in the blackness of the coffee but if he looks at the shape of his nose, the bow of his mouth, the curls of his hair, he can pretend his Mum stares back.
Death is inevitable but grief corrupts. Precious prays the second girl makes it out alive. To give everyone piece of mind, to give the other girl a name, to live.
Community Princess abandons Kamil when he approaches, holding onto his thigh as she stands on two legs but he drops to her height and gives her the frantic rubbing of her life she ends on her back.
"She goes wild for you."
"She goes wild for anyone who gives a good rub."
"Yeah, that too."
Satisfied and done, she rolls on her side, stands and jump at Kamil pining for a thrown ball. He obliges, throwing it as far as his arm allows and Community Princess barks after it.
Up on the feet, they stare at the running dog both satisfied with the silence until Kamil breaks it.
"I've been meaning to ask you but how did it go at the Pack conference? Was a solution provided?"
Precious swallows back the scoff but can't stop his eyes from rolling. Instead of saying absolutely nothing but a pounding headache was provided he used an euphemism.
"It went fine. It was a great way to catch up with what other Packs are doing. Do you know that Rivers is actively searching for a mate?"
"Rivers... Rivers.. Short, small, gets on Alpha Ulu's nerves?"
"One and only."
"What do you mean searching? His Pack is too good for him?"
Precious fakes offense. "By that logic, no one in the Pack is good enough for me."
The Major hears the mistake, turn to him and bites his tongues retracting. "That's different. You... Well, you... You are cute."
A slow rise of a brow. "That's what you could come up with? I'm cute? What, everyone else is an ogre?"
"That's an affront to ogres."
"You're avoiding the question."
"So did you. I asked you about the Pack conference, you told me about Alpha Ulo," the dog raced back victorious, the ball between her teeth an offer to an outstretched Kamil. "It must've been unproductive."
"I wouldn't say unproductive. More like stalemate. Hey, walk with me?"
An instant concession to the whine of Community Princess that Kamil bounced the ball and threw it to her satisfaction.
"Coffee?"
He makes a disgusted face at the sight of it. "No."
"We couldn't come to a consensus on what to do. But, we did agree not to interfere with a Pack's 'solution'. Details on emergency interference was purposely left vague. I imagine there'll be another conference soon."
Passing the backyard of the clinic, Kamil longingly glance at it but doesn't give the attachment lip. Playing fetch with the dog is a better distraction.
Precious waits until the clinic becomes distant, waits until they sidestep the pond, cross the wooden humpback bridge to the garden of assorted flowers, the dog screeching to a stop.
Kamil steps forward to smell an azalea and it's to his back Precious ask the question.
"How is she? The girl," he emphasizes as if there's another girl the Major is worried about.
Kamil doesn't answer immediately. With the hand not holding the ball, he plucks an azalea and turns to him. Holding his eyes, Kamil digs the flower in his hair and in a voice quieter than a whisper says,
"I will be hopeful. She will live. Has to."
Will be hopeful. Not am. Not willing to trust wholeheartedly and be heartbroken. Precious understands the doubt.
"Cam tells me you have someone assigned to find out about the girls. How's the progress so far?"
"It's ongoing," glimpsed at himself in his mug, feels the pretty flower is incongruent to the seriousness of the conversation, raised a hand to pull it out but Kamil gently pries the hand away.
"Leave it. I told you. You're cute."
"As opposed to everyone else."
"And ogres. You could say thank you and call me rugged handsome."
"You are rugged handsome."
"I know. I just wanted you to say it," a cheeky smile that slips away after a second. Looking off into the distance, he sighs. "I wanted to thank you. I'm grateful you haven't kicked her out."
The fingers holding the mug curls into a fist at the appreciation but Precious doesn't know if he has earned it.
"Don't thank me yet. I can't as well throw an unconscious wolf.
"Still. I know you're in a bind. I promise not to make you regret this.
Precious regards him, at the sincerity on his face, the resolution in his voice. He slightly nods but it comes a drop of the head. He wants to say that isn't something you can promise but keeps the negative to himself.