'Dad is home'. That's the first thing Homraz notes as he turns the doorknob.
'He's sitting at the kitchen table. He smells weird.'
'He's following me', thinks Homraz, as he leadenly trudges up the stairs.
'I'm running. Have to find my nest. Nest is safe.'
Homraz runs faster, his legs churning in the now quicksand stairs. His door is right in front of him. He's almost there!
A clawed hand grabs the back of his shirt. It yanks him back, hard. As the tusks near his neck, his body forced to the floor, Homraz can't kick. Can't scream. Can't fight. His legs are lead, the pressing weight on his back is a mountain. The owner's scent isn't cloying, it's choking.
He can't breathe, can't breathe! Can't breathe! He succumbs.
"Stop!"
Homraz jolted up with a start, his fist stinging from where he punched the wall.
Sweat coated his entire body, drenching his nightshirt and sliding in rivulets down his neck as he swallowed for air.
Tears, not fallen, clung to his eyes. He scrubbed them off and down his face.
"Shit."
He didn't know how he did it, but he made the trek to the dorm kitchens and yanked open the first wood cabinet to the right.
Sighing in annoyance, he snatched a glass off the shelf, letting two tears roll down.
"Where's the damn pills?"
As he rifled through the other cabinets, he reached his hand to the back of his neck, stroking the erased mark.
'The surgery is expensive sir. It may even destroy the neck gland completely!'
'It doesn't matter, just get it off my son!'
“Agh!”
The glass on the counter lay in pieces. Shards on the floor beamed the moon back up to his face, the shards in his hand forced dark red rivulets down his palm. He clutched the wounded hand hissing in anger as tears threatened to stream down his face.
“Great,” he seethed. “Where’s the fucking First Aid kit?”
“Adit said they put all that stuff in a special pantry. It’s on your right.”
Homraz whipped his head around so fast, his neck almost broke. A small growl reverberated from his throat, a clear sign to stay away.
“Whoa! I didn’t mean to scare you,” said Dhurgan, placing her hands in front of her. “I just came down here for a late-night snack.”
“You’re the last one I wanna see right now,” Homraz snarled quietly, panting slightly as his heart thrummed in a panic. He wasn’t expecting anyone to be down there, and he’d taken off his scent-blocker before bed.
“I can tell. But that cut is pretty nasty, and you can’t disinfect it yourself.”
Homraz scrunched his brows in anger. He eased away slowly, growling low in his throat the whole time.
“I know what a night terror looks like, y’know. I used to help my little sister with hers.”
Curious, Homraz’s low growl simmered slowly to a stop. He straightened up from his guarded stance, if only a little.
“What were her terrors like?”
“I’ll tell you while I help,” she offered, taking the small gauze roll from the first aid cabinet. “We can’t have you bleeding all over the floor, bruh.”
Homraz said nothing as Dhurgan disinfected the wound with lye, wiped it, and snugly tied the gauze around it, all the while recounting how her sister used to get harassed by some school bullies for being born tuskless. The bullying got so bad, her sister couldn’t close her eyes without seeing the imagined faces of her tormentors.
“Whenever that happened, I sang her a little something,” Dhurgan said as she finished.
“What was it?” Homraz asked softly. Dhurgan looked up, surprised that he could even speak softly. “The song?”
“You want me to sing it?” asked Dhurgan, in even greater surprise.
Homraz grunted noncommittally.
“Um, okay,” Dhurgan gulped nervously. Clearing her throat, she began.
“Little Ur, why do you call yourself weak?
You are the strongest of them all.
Why do you despise yourself?
Hold your head high.
The night brings foul whispers.
The day brings cruel remarks.
But you are stronger than it all.”
The deep timbre of her voice slowly lulled Homraz’s anxiety, wrapping around him softly like a warm fur. The song itself, conjured up images of a mother comforting her frightened child.
As Dhurgan finished the song, Homraz’s agitated scent slowly faded to softly spiced currant.
“So, are you gonna tell me what happened?” sighed Dhurgan softly.
Homraz’s scent turned flared once more, filling the kitchenette with a peppery smell, and he yanked his hand back from Dhurgan.
“You bring this up again, you’re dead.”
“My lips are sealed,” Dhurgan sighed. Her shoulders sagged a bit and she looked at him, mildly bemused.
The two got up and went their separate ways back to their dorm rooms.
About halfway down the hall, Homraz realized he forgot to take the pills. Rushing back to the kitchen counter, the two designated blue tablets and a small glass of water greeted him.
Homraz sighed deeply and gulped them down.
Back in his room, Homraz found himself humming the soothing melody of Dhurgan’s song. As he drifted off to sleep, his strained hum morphed into the sweet song from downstairs, accompanied by visions of crimson hair, star-like freckles, and strong hands.
***
The rest of the week wasn't too hard on Dhurgan. Her efforts with Homraz, however, seemed like they stonewalled over and over. Aside from that night in the kitchenette, it was like he was feral, shying away from any sort of affection, lashing out at those who got too close. And Dhurgan still didn’t know why.
She’d tried asking his mentor, but Kulah either didn’t know or wouldn’t tell.
The whole experience left her very drained and, honestly, she just wanted to sleep. Luckily, today was a weekend, so she just had to go over all the homework assigned by the teachers.
Yawning as she rolled out from under the duvet, she grasped around for her phone. After clicking past her screensaver, taking a moment to smile at the picture of her family, she checked for any new messages from them.
After her first day, much of Dhurgan’s homesickness had faded. She’d gotten on a video call with her family and stayed on till she fell asleep. Their smiling faces, joyful laughter, and antics put Dhurgan at ease.
It also helped that the first day was relatively easy. Adit was a huge help, her teachers were cool, and she got to know new people!
‘See?’ she chided herself. ‘It’s only going to get easier. The first day was great!’
The time on her phone was listed at 3:50 in the morning. She’d woken up a little early. Oh well, she could still be productive.
Kneeling to give a quick prayer to Muth, she got up and walked over to the closet. A small hill of shirts, pants, and shorts had formed by the time she found her Nar’ube’s boxing gloves. Slipping them on, she marveled at how well they fit her, despite being a head shorter than her sire.
Dhurgan took a moment of pause to look around the room. She’d spent the first night unpacking her boxes and placing each important item around the room. Her Nar’ abe’s furs were draped across the bed while her sugthur hung on a wall. But the gloves, Dhurgan had saved a special place for them in the closet. They lay hidden carefully in a box at the bottom. The window by the desk was still bare, Dhurgan would buy some curtains to place there later. Her laptop and a cold mug of aether sat on the desk, a testament to last night’s “catch-up” ordeal. Next to the bed, a bright red punching bag stood its ground as Dhurgan advanced on it.
The old thing had been a twelfth birthday gift of hers, following her Joktag. Her Nar’ube had taken it upon herself to train Dhurgan more seriously and Dhurgan had never been happier in her life then. That was until her Nar’ abe had a second litter, of course.
Swinging on one punch, then two, Dhurgan eased into her routine. Each jab landed on the hard leather with a hard thud, each hook reverberated through the bag. Even in the violent nature of fighting, Dhurgan had found peace in it.
Fjorgans fought to release anger, solve conflicts, and even court mates. Fighting was never used among them as a tool of strife but as a way of bringing each one closer. To fight was an honorable lifestyle. Her clan’s dialect even had a word for it: Muthgaran. “To understand the strength of another.” It wasn’t simple fisticuffs, it was an act of acknowledging one’s personhood and building bridges.
Wiping the sweat off her brow, she grabbed her phone and laced up her sneakers.
The light was filtering in as 4:00 brought in the sun’s bright blue rays. It flashed onto the keys that jingled in Dhurgan’s grasp. Locking the door behind her, she jogged down the hall.
Morning runs became a sort of ritual early on in her life. Her Nar’ube always woke her and the other cubs at first light to take a lap in the woods near their den.
Though she remembered complaining at first, Dhurgan had grown to love running through the towering pines, inhaling fresh morning air, and catching a glimpse of the local spearstag herds. The love of nature that her Nar’ube instilled in her stayed with her for the rest of her life, and she was so very thankful for it.
Dhurgan wrenched herself out of her thoughts just as she reached dorm room 210.
Homraz’s dorm.
Sure, they’d made some baby steps a couple nights ago, but Homraz was far from what most would consider a friend. If the school year was going to continue without incident, they needed to have a moment where they could actually relax as friends.
And what better way to do that than to invite him on her run?
Dhurgan confidently knocked on the door.
***
Homraz was a relatively simple kinda guy, or so he’d like to think. You left him alone, he’d leave you alone. You try and start something and, well…
He also liked his sleep. Mess with that, and you’re asking to die.
So, when he heard a knock on his door at 4:0-fucking-5 in the morning, he was not happy.
Stomping over to the door and flinging it open, he prepared to verbally shred apart whoever decided to raise palikos itself at that ungodly hour.
He almost did a double-take when he saw Dhurgan at his door with a thousand watt smile.
“Homraz!” waved Dhurgan happily. “Morning, bro!”
‘What in the-’
“Could you keep it down?! Some of us are tryna sleep!”
“Ah, sorry,” Dhurgan sheepishly apologized.
“What the heck do you want?” he tiredly sighed
“You wanna jog with me?”
“In case you haven’t noticed, it’s too early in the morning for any of that.”
“Come on! It’ll be fun!”
“Nope.”
“I’m not taking no for an answer, you know.”
Homraz stiffened at that. He'd heard that phrase from many alphas in his life. Selfish pricks who thought that his refusal, or extreme disinterest, was a challenge for them to have their way with him.
“Try,” Homraz coldly retorted.
“I’ll buy you snufftoads on the way,” Dhurgan offered in a teasing voice.
Once snufftoads were mentioned, Homraz thought it over. He didn’t really want to waste money buying the sweets himself, and he’d get to run it off? Not too bad of a deal. Plus, if the knothead he was with did try anything funny, he could just mace her.
"Give me a sec to get ready," he sighed.
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