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Humans are so serious.
Linde trots around the forest village with a bounce in her steps, jumping and leaping for the fun of it. Humans jump, too, yet they can’t compare to her level. They’re physically different - she gets that part. But mentally? They just don’t do it, even though it’s so fun!
When Primrose leaps during her dances, Linde doesn’t sense amusement. When others jump from the sudden appearance of beasts, it’s clearly not fun. She learns that humans don’t consider leaping across the grass as fun, but rather foolish. Childish? Yes, that’s the word. So she’s a child then, but is that such a bad thing?
She sure thinks a lot in the morning. Such is the life of a leopard.
Outside the inn, Cyrus and Olberic examine one of many tomes they borrowed from the ruins. As she approaches, she picks up the heaviness in Olberic’s otherwise gentle speech. She often hears this tone when he speaks of his past home. Whatever burdens weigh upon his shoulders, they seem to lighten when he spots her.
“Ah! There is our beloved Linde,” Olberic stands and invites her into an embrace. Linde wags her tail in anticipation and leaps into open arms. He catches her and spins her around with ease, a feat that warrants all the nuzzles and licks she can give. H’aanit is the only other one who does this well, and with this tall friend, her tail even hovers above the ground!
“Have you slept well, my friend?” he chuckles, and Linde wriggles free from his loosened grip. She rubs her face against his leg and purrs in content. This friend is very strong and very kind, and she feels safe around him.
The mood playfully shifts as Linde locks eyes with Cyrus, and her tail stiffens in alert. Now this friend… he’s a strange friend. He stares at others without words and uses too many, at the same time. How odd.
Well, she can stare back, can’t she?
Fortunately for her, Cyrus indulges in the competitive spirit. Olberic tries to stop him, but Cyrus holds out a hand and continues.
A worthy opponent, but Linde can outwit his wits. Compared to the day where he followed her around from sunrise to sunset, this is child’s play. If she’s the child, then she must win.
Child’s play sure lasts a long time, though. She wants to move on with her day, do leopard things, live her best leopard life.
Rushing forward, she bumps her nose against Cyrus, and he breaks his gaze from the shock. A hearty laugh, and a voice calls from behind.
“It seems Linde is the victor, once again.”
She flicks her tail in smug delight, earning another round of spinning hugs.
“I shall accept this loss, my friend, but one day” - Cyrus emphasizes with an accusatory finger - “I will have my revenge.”
He teases, and even if he isn’t, she cares little. Turning around, she swats Cyrus’ hand with her tail and carries on with her day. Leopards like her live eventful lives, after all, playing and eating to their heart’s content.
Linde arrives to see the H’aanit and Ophilia conversing over a pot of tea, which carries a familiar scent. Stretching her limbs lazily, she rolls onto her side and greets the pair with a yawn.
“Hi, Linde!” Ophilia greets with a cheerful tone, patting her head and moving toward the soft fluff of her stomach. A little lower… yes! There, right there, stay there!
H’aanit lets out a chuckle, yet Linde cares little if she judges her. If she wants pats, she’ll get the pats, and a pox upon those who deny her the pats. They share a peaceful moment among this scent of herbs and the sounds of nature, and it almost beats rolling in the snow.
“You seem better,” Ophilia remarks. “I hope our trip helped ease your worries.”
“That, it has,” H’aanit answers. “To taketh the time for mine sake... I am most grateful.”
“It’s no trouble, at all. We’re happy that we can look after you, for a change.”
“Didst I worryen thee?”
“A little,” Ophilia admits. “None of us expected you to carry on like nothing happened, but, I... whatever you saw in there, we knew it pained you.”
“Letten us hopen the moment will never repeaten,” H’aanit reassures. “But thanken thee for thy concerns.”
Linde feels Ophilia’s hand smooth over her stomach, and she relaxes beneath the touch. Among her human friends, Linde senses that Ophilia mulls over her thoughts quite often. She wonders what she’s thinking, yet H’aanit speaks on her behalf.
“Thou wisheth to sayest something.”
"Oh, it’s just,” Ophilia withdraws from Linde, and she clasps her hands together. “I've just been thinking about our journeys together. I never would've guessed how my path would lead to so many blessings, and yet..."
There's a waver in Ophilia's voice, and H'aanit waits in silent support.
"I’ve always been a guide for the people, a light for those who seek my aid. I have no regrets, yet the responsibility can take its toll. I'm sure you understand, with your village and all."
H’aanit confirms with a hum. “After Master hath left home, I oft foundeth mineself acquiring tasks from the headman to appeasen mine worries, shouldst no hunt occurren. So longeth as I didst mine duties, I hath thought little of his plight until Hägen hath arrived."
Linde’s ears perk at the mention of the two. Ever since that day in the woods among the cliffs, she hoped they fared well. Brother is strong, but how does he bear such long nights with a friend who cannot move? She often hears a wolf’s howl in her dreams, yet said wolf appears to comfort her, as well. Despite the unnatural stone, Linde sensed a flicker of life inside, a feeling she refused to let go.
"For much time, Master, Hägen, and Linde hath comprised mine family." H’aanit gives a small smile. "Liketh thee, never wouldst I hath thought that mine path couldst forgen others. The stories I wouldst tellen him..."
While H’aanit pets her to sleep and expresses her love, Linde understands the burden of her mission. And so, she tries to return the gestures - comforting H’aanit during sleepless nights, battling alongside her, and showing affection in her own way. She would traverse any foreign lands as long as she supported H’aanit, her best friend.
“He sounds like a good man, from what you’ve told me,” Ophilia says after some time.
“Aye, the greatest. Though I scoldest his foolishness, he taketh serious matters with nary a fear, and he hath taught me all I know. To carryen the ways of the Darkwood is oft difficult.”
"I imagine so,” Ophilia remarks. “It's hard to live up to expectations, isn’t it? When I doubted myself, I would confide in Lianna or Father, but I knew they had their own duties. Still, they accepted me as their own, knowing I had nothing, and I only wanted to do my best."
"Thy best is enough, hm?" H'aanit responds warmly. "To thinketh that ones of different blood canst giveth their love in full, how thine happiness bringeth them the same joy."
“Exactly!” Ophilia surprises herself with the outburst. “Even when I was being difficult, so to speak, I knew they came from a place of love. They always supported me, flaws and all. I only wish that… this was the case with some of our friends.”
H’aanit nods, well aware of the friends she references. “Prayest for them, we canst, yes?”
Ophilia looks up in surprise.
“Right now?”
“Only if thou wisheth. I seeketh to learnen from thee, shouldst the need arisen.”
Gentle heart and flustered features - such are common sights for Linde to behold in Ophilia. She notices how the others are even more serious during these ‘prayers’. Some friends hold hands, while others simply close their eyes. They don’t look at one another, and - even worse - the tea! All those lovely scents of flowers and herbs, cold and abandoned.
Maybe she can pray for the tea, too.
“...It would be an honor,” Ophilia eventually smiles, and Linde watches as she reaches for H’aanit’s hands. H’aanit accepts the gesture without hesitation, and a warm light emanates between their palms. With heads bowed and eyes closed, Ophilia begins the prayer.
“O Aelfric, Bringer of the Flame,” Ophilia begins. “It is often that I pray to you for our friends’ safety, for restful nights and hearts alight. Betrayals and burdens lay in our paths, and for a long time, it seemed they would never end. I often wondered if this was part of your plan, or merely the sins of our kind. Some hearts are too dark, despicable, beyond guidance.”
The light pulses as Ophilia takes in a deep breath. The warmth radiates against Linde’s body, beckoning her forward. And so she rests her head near their hands, basking in the quiet strength of a soft heart.
“And yet, I have witnessed troubled hearts that found light among others, and within themselves. They are true blessings in this humble life of mine,” she continues. “It is to you that I pray for their good health and heart, that our friends know they are forever loved, no matter the distance.”
The light glows brighter between their hands, and Linde holds her gaze. She notes such intensity when Ophilia heals her friends’ wounds, but does this mean H’aanit is hurt?
It doesn’t appear so, and Ophilia’s curious smile piques her own.
“As for strength, there is someone with strength abound, both body and mind. She protects us, comforts us, and keeps our hearts safe. Even so, I chide her for not giving herself equal care. I pray that she may understand these words, that she has friends who will support her along this journey, wherever it leads.”
There’s a gentle laugh.
“I jest, but when her good name crosses our oceans someday, I do hope she will remember our travels!”
The light gradually dims as they pull away, and Linde amuses herself at the sight of her friend’s red cheeks.
“I- what-” H’aanit stammers. “Ophilia, thou-!”
“Did I embarrass you?” Ophilia laughs louder in response. “I won’t take this back, you know!”
They bicker over one another, flailing hands and flustered states. It’s not often Linde sees it herself, especially after Z’aanta’s departure. H’aanit is still serious now, yet her friends gradually coax the lighter parts from her, parts hidden away for the sake of protecting others.
“Linde is not a pet. She is mine companion… mine friend.”
In little time, she learned that she’s also such a friend. If any words ingrain themselves into Linde’s mind, these are the ones, and she holds them close.
H’aanit eventually recovers from the shock of Ophilia’s kindness, though a pink tinge remains on her face.
“Might thou sharen about the gods once more? I findeth thy tales most intriguing.”
“Oh! Um, I tend to ramble on and on - are you sure?”
“Aye, holden back nothing, if it wouldst pleasen thee.”
Are they going to talk again? Humans talk so much, Linde thinks. Still, they are happy, and that’s what matters, right? She appreciates these friends who help H’aanit express her true feelings, and any friends of H’aanit are hers. She will protect them all with her life.
Linde lets out a big yawn and lazily swishes her tail. Nap time, first.
“Enjoyen thy time here, and playest while thou canst,” H’aanit notes her drowsiness with amusement. “We shall returneth soon.”
Wherever they go, she cares for nothing else but a nice, long nap. Settling beneath a wide sunbeam against the grass, Linde sprawls across the ground and enjoys a peaceful rest.
“Fifty-seven… fifty-eight…”
Sometime in the afternoon, Linde awakes on her back. Speckles of green and yellow cover her stomach. As she rolls over, someone pulls back their arm in surprise.
“Oh!” Tressa exclaims. “Enjoyed your nap, Linde?”
Linde butts her head against Tressa’s leg, and she ruffles the fur upon her head. As mutual enablers of mischief, Linde appreciates her boundless energy. Even so, she recognizes her generosity. Hunched over coins or leaves, she never pinches a single one when it comes to fine food for the finest leopard.
The laugh becomes a burst of triumph as she points a finger in the opposite direction.
“Fifty-eight! Beat that!”
Surrounded by vials and mounds of herbs, Alfyn shakes his pestle at her with exaggerated motions.
“Ya said she had to be awake for that game!”
“So maybe I lied!”
Linde finds Alfyn the smelly one of the group. Sometimes, it concerns her. When he ventures into the woods, his scent mixes with that of herbs and salves, and she worries that she might lose his trail. Such worry often leads to lone excursions, where she thankfully finds him unharmed (and grateful for her concern). She merely looks out for her friends - nothing more.
Tressa helps pluck the remaining leaves from her fur and mentions “giving him a piece of her mind”, whatever that means. Linde hopes it doesn’t hurt as Tressa stomps toward this smelly friend.
Sure enough, they also bicker amongst themselves. Humans are so strange. Lovable, but strange.
Ambling away, she spots Therion and Primrose in the same secluded area, where he and H’aanit spoiled her with affection. Maybe they’ll spoil her more?
“Looks like you slept well,” Therion greets when she approaches, though the atmosphere is different. He sits stiffly upon the grass, legs crossed, fingers smoothing over his scarf. When he retrieves a small blade from a pocket, she is ever curious. Therion passes the blade behind his shoulder, yet there’s little cause for alarm as Primrose receives it with care.
“Just the back?” she asks, grasping a worn comb in her other hand.
Therion nods, pulling the scarf tighter against the back of his neck. “I usually do it myself. Probably looks weird, huh?”
“Hm, can’t tell unless you’re up close,” Primrose gently combs the back of his hair, wisps of jagged white curled against his nape. “I’m surprised you asked me.”
“Yeah, well,” Therion plays with the frayed ends of his scarf. “Maybe it’s time I start caring about my looks.”
“I’ll make you look beautiful, then,” she says, winking toward Linde.
A scoff. "You better.”
“Have some faith in me,” Primrose teases. She sets the comb upon her lap and grasps a section of Therion’s hair in between her fingers. “Hold still, now.”
Linde finds his reactions odd - back stiff, eyes down, and hands that never leave that scarf. It’s unlike her own joy when others groom her own fur. Then again, Therion’s learning to be around others, to be close. She wonders what she can do to help him.
Rolling onto her stomach, Linde rests her paws upon Therion’s leg and purrs. She tries to act cute, but to be fair, she’s always cute. A moment passes and he pats the top of her paw - that’s when she knows she succeeds in the task. Snow seems to fall from Primrose’s fingers as Linde watches her work.
Unlike the last conversation, no one speaks for a while. The silence gives Linde time to ponder her adventures. Her friends often share their stories aloud, and whether they share beneath the setting sun or starless skies, she hears their tales, their turmoil.
With Therion, turmoil fills most of his tales. Linde often curls against him when his body trembles during the night. Following that day among sun and sand, he shakes more often, hands clutching the blanket. Sometimes, he cries out, and she nudges her head against him because she can’t bear it. Whatever hurts him during his sleep… she wants it to end. But humans are complicated - it’s never that simple, is it?
In the mountains among stone and snow, she learned that this pain was another human. Larger in size, deeper in voice… and a threat to her dear friend. No longer did she view this being as human. How dare this beast? How dare it?
Upon her life did she maintain her hold on that beast’s leg. Screams, yells - nothing mattered but dragging it away from Therion. Deep inside, she hoped it was enough.
In this forest, she still hoped. That beast marked him, and she wasn’t fast enough to stop it. Did humans have a word for the feeling in her heart? If so, it sunk into every muscle, every bone. Despite her failure to protect him, he beckoned her forward with such kindness and warmth, a type that even she had never witnessed. Therion was never mad, after all. Whatever feeling enveloped her heart, it felt wonderful.
“How are you feeling?” Primrose checks in after some time.
“Hm,” Therion lifts his hand from Linde’s head (much to her dismay) and runs his fingers along the scarf again. “Lighter, I guess. Hard to explain, but… it’s better.”
“That’s good to hear. You had me worried, a bit.”
“Oh, sorry.”
Linde hears the drop in his voice and consoles him with nuzzles. He seems to like them.
“Don’t be. No one blames you for what happened, if it’s not clear enough.”
A hum, and the conversation stills as Primrose combs another section of hair.
Purring, Linde continues to give Therion her silent support. She watches his shoulders relax and his breathing grow deeper, more even. To her delight, one hand unclenches the scarf and reaches for her. Fingers smooth over the pads on her paw, rough from years of hunting and climbing.
Darn paws. She can’t hold Therion’s hand like he holds it now. Humans often hold hands to help each other feel better, and she’s trying her best.
“And… there,” Primrose leans back with pride in her voice. “All beautiful now.”
Therion unravels the scarf to shake off the excess hair, and it's Linde’s turn to blow a wisp from her mouth. He reaches back to examine Primrose’s handiwork - and gives the softest smile.
“Thank you.”
Primrose’s lips move, yet no sound comes out.
“What?” Therion turns around.
“Oh, it’s just...” Primrose pauses again. "I’m still getting used to hearing that."
He takes the weight of those words in full, mindful of the harsh years she endured. Shifting his body, Therion gives her his full attention.
"I'll try to say it more often, then."
"Giving me special treatment?"
"Only if you want it," he says, serious in his tone.
There's the softest laugh.
"It's nice to hear from you,” Primrose returns the blade. “And you know what? You didn’t hesitate this time.”
"Heh, that so?" Therion stuffs it in his pocket, feeling the familiar warmth in his chest. “Well, I’m not taking it back.”
“I’ll protect this one, don’t you worry," she reassures.
Linde lazily wags her tail as Primrose waves her forward. As she strokes her fur, Linde thinks about these two friends. A similar darkness once filled their hearts, and while she senses a lingering presence, the lights shine brighter now.
“So, what’s next for you, or is that a loaded question?” Therion asks, hand in his hair once more.
“Hm… I must return to Noblecourt to face Father, but after that… I’m not sure. There’s the mess left over from the Crows, but I’m not exactly a welcome face there.”
Therion hums, watching as her face takes on a curious expression.
“When we first met, I envied your way of life,” Primrose confesses. “You weren’t bound to titles or taverns, free to wander as you pleased. Learning about your past, it sounds silly in hindsight.”
“Never thought of it like that,” Therion admits. “But, yeah. Running from my problems didn’t exactly help. Took a while to figure that out.”
A deep sigh.
“For too long, I felt trapped by thoughts of leaving, “ Primrose’s voice trembles, and she twists the ends of her hair that drape upon her shoulder. “So many chances, yet I felt like I had to stay, to find answers. It’s only from tragedy that I’ve moved forward, and now? I just… don’t know.”
A darkness builds in Primrose’s heart, and Linde is about to approach when Therion intervenes.
Hesitant, he reaches forward in an attempt to comfort her. The hand doesn’t quite make it.
“I’m no good at this, but, uh…” His fingers clench blades of grass as he struggles through his train of thought. “It’s hard. And it hurts. A lot. But, maybe there’s something to look forward to. Whatever that is for you, just…”
Even Linde strains her ears to catch the last of his words.
“You won’t have to do it alone. I've got your back. Pretty sure we all do.”
Primrose assesses him on instinct, searching for lies, deceit. They’re both skilled in masking their true intent, yet this is Therion’s truth. Stilted, struggling, but wholeheartedly truthful.
It takes her breath away.
Linde senses the odd twist in Therion’s chest, and she raises her head in alert.
“Shit, I’m sorry. If I said something wrong, I-”
“No. No, you didn’t.” She meets him halfway, resting a hand upon the one pressed against the grass.
“I didn’t expect that, but… it’s a good thing. I know it’s hard for you, too.”
“Yeah…” Therion takes a deep breath. “Yeah. I’m trying my best, trying to do better.”
"You’re doing great," Primrose shares, her voice genuine. “I mean that.”
She lightly squeezes his hand.
“And… maybe it’s time I follow your lead.”
Now these kinds of talks, Linde can stand by. Or lie by, belly up and limbs bent. So long as her friends feel better (happier, even), that’s what matters most.
“You know, I’d bet anyone would let you stay with them, if you needed the time,” Therion suggests.
“Hm… perhaps I will. Thinking the same?”
“Yeah, but I’m not in a rush. Never thought I’d say this, but… I like the company.”
“We’re not so different, after all.” Primrose merely laughs, and they share a comfortable silence.
But of course, silent moments are made to be broken. It’s one of Linde’s many purposes in life. All talk and no walk - where’s the fun in that?
Linde takes on a playful demeanor and gently swats Therion with her tail. They both know the signal, though she’s typically the more excited one.
“Now?”
She answers Therion by ambling away, turning to see if he follows. She wears a smug expression, just for him.
“You, uh, wanna join?” he gestures.
“I’ll watch for now, but thank you,” Primrose answers, stretching her arms as she stands.
“Great. I’ll try to keep you entertained,” Therion jests, returning his gaze to Linde. “C’mon, don’t make me run.”
And of course, Linde runs, jumps, leaps. When she looks back again, Therion shuffles his feet against the grass in lazy pursuit. He’d really do anything for her, wouldn’t he?
“Wonder where that friend of yours-”
Linde completes his incomplete statement by darting forward with absolute glee. Sure enough, the boy and his tiny tiger friend await in an open field, and the group happily plays throughout the afternoon. It takes little time to convince her dear friend, even as he grumbles during the process. Primrose and Tressa soon join the fun, only to keep the toy away from a huffing Therion, who bites back obscenities for the boy’s sake.
At some point, Therion leaps forward to swipe the toy from Linde’s reach. So humans do leap like that, after all! Maybe he just needed a little help to move forward on his own terms.
She still wants the toy, though. No one can help him now.
Under the setting sun, Therion willingly accepts his fate as he lies beneath a sprawled-out Linde.
“Fine, fine, you win. Now get off or I’ll eat all your treats.”
A quiet laugh follows, and Linde knows she’s done her part.
Linde loves evenings in the forest, no matter the location. Lying beside the fire with her best friend, she recalls the peaceful nights of home. When the humans didn’t play their musical instruments, sounds of wildlife accompanied her slumber. Alongside the flames, the same lights dance above her: small, large, hanging from ropes, and floating high in the sky. It’s been a long day of listening, eating, and playing; a day spent with beloved friends is a worthy one.
“Left so soon?” Therion calmly approaches the pair.
“Aye. Linde hath seeketh quiet time,” H’aanit says quietly, not wishing to disturb her bliss. “Rarely canst I denyeth her adorable face.”
"Fair enough," he huffs out a laugh. “So, guess who almost broke their record while you were gone.”
A pause.
“Oh, he didst not.”
Therion points over his shoulder, where Olberic drapes a sleeping Alfyn over one shoulder and makes his way toward the inn.
“Let’s just say we saw ourselves out for the night,” he scratches his head. “He’s sappy enough without it, but god, it gets worse."
“Oho, I must observen such an event mineself the next time,” H’aanit teases.
“Then pay up,” Therion pats the coin pouch against his leg. “I’m all out.”
“ ‘Tis a deal,” she doesn’t miss a beat.
“Heh, guess I’ll be watching over him, this time,” his voice turns soft. “Least I can do, really.”
“I trusteth he shall be safe in thy care, hm?”
“Yeah, yeah. I got it,” Therion waves off the comment, crouching down to pat Linde’s head.
“Had fun today?” he asks fondly, moving his hand toward her stomach. “Get some sleep, you big baby.”
She doesn’t mind the name, coming from him. As long as he feels happy, she’s happy, too. The belly rubs are a bonus.
Therion and H’aanit exchange nods, and Linde catches the smile as he pulls up his scarf. Footsteps fade, and the crackling fire echoes into the calm night.
Linde curls against H’aanit and purrs, thinking about the humans in her life. There’s so many now, and she loves them all! Treasured friends, glimmering stars, chirping crickets, and the best belly rubs - what a life.
It’s making sense now.
Perhaps her purpose is to comfort, protect, support, and love. She can offer it all and help them help themselves. She loves it when they smile, and woe betide her if she doesn’t play her part. One must walk before they can run, and one must run before they can leap. Maybe her friends simply need the encouragement, a helping paw, and all the nuzzles. With patience and time, Linde hopes she can help them leap forward without regrets.