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Ditti woke with a groan, her head swimming already in the heat of the early morning; for the third day, her body felt wrong. She felt sluggish and stiff and it had nothing at all to do with the pair of tiny little furry arms clutching her wrist or the soft rasping purrs of the two small kits sleeping on her side. She cracked one eye and peered at the pair, the little siblings had been the only survivors they could find in the mess of smoldering tents the day before. The smell of burning flesh still stung her nose and Ditti rolled slowly onto her side as tears threatened again and the sense of failure threatened to swallow her whole - it felt like for every family they found alive, they found a half dozen slaughtered. It was overwhelming, she’d lost count of the graves they’d dug, of the dirges she’d sung.
The desert was filled with plots of slowly growing purple flowers, marking their path and the graves of the Kin. Osiah had told her the names of the gods the Kin would look to for protection, but it was the Wayfinder she invoked here time and again, to gather the souls of so many lost innocents, to ferry them to a place that was kinder than the war torn desert. The beads on her wrist seemed to glimmer - but perhaps it was just the tears she was fighting back - as she thought of the long-eared Fey. She reached up to flick the tears away with her thumb, the beads brushing her lips, and breathed a prayer against them, “Please show them the safe passage, don’t leave them lost in the sands.”
There was no answer but she didn’t expect one from him, instead putting her energy and faith into the belief that he would hear her and do what he could. After a while, she felt the little kits roll over and her other hand was freed from their snuggle; she smiled a little and slowly sat up, careful not to wake them. Osiah was nowhere to be seen, his bed would be empty and cold but for the children curled up in it. Their tent was currently full of sleeping children - almost every tent was - so many families had taken the children of their cousins and friends in, but still there were so many children without anyone to guard them. She had only wanted to help when she’d opened their tent to the first few. Now, nearly a dozen kits filled the space and Osiah’s teasing was well-deserved; she couldn’t help it, she couldn’t stand to see a single child in need. She had quite the collection of fuzzy faces to take inventory of now each morning and night.
Unable to sleep, and her thoughts leaving her with anxious energy, the satyr carefully rose and pulled her linen cloak around herself before stepping into the bright glare of morning. Campfires were burning, a few soft songs were starting, breakfast would be soon then camp would break and they would have a hard day pushing south and west - and hopefully no more graves to dig - in store for them. A few figures were moving along the edge of camp and her heart sank as she saw the tall form of her lover stooping, his head bowed, as he carried a bundle over the rise.
She didn’t want to, but she followed; she didn’t want to, but she knew what it meant and what to do and her hand reached into a pouch on her belt and thumbed a small round seed into her palm. When she reached the rise, her heart sank further. Three new mounds, three new graves, rested in the sand below; and she slowly descended the slope, reaching for more seeds as her voice softly broke the silence, the Sylvan words rolling over the graves and those filling them with the gently lilting words urging the souls of the lost to peace.
At the head of each grave she pressed a seed into the sand and worked her druid craft so that strong seedlings blossomed before their eyes. When the song was done, she stood silently beside Osiah, holding his hand. He hugged her close, whispering softly the names and she felt the sobs choke her as the faces came easily to her mind : a young fighter with bright blue eyes who’d taken an arrow, a dusky furred elder injured when his clan was raided, and a badly hurt small boy with sand colored fur that Ditti had tried to comfort. She leaned into his arms and wept quietly, then gathered herself and straightened; she nodded to him silently and then followed him towards camp as she blotted the tears away.
The Prince of Dawn and his Warsong could not break from the sorrow: though it was a heavy weight, she would share it with him, with all of them. And one day, she promised herself with determination, she would find a way to share joy and laughter with them all again. But today, they would pack the camp and continue to gather all of the Kin close, and push for safety - wherever they could find it. Their strength gave the others hope, so she kept her head up as she followed him up the rise.
She trudged back into camp, her hand engulfed in Osiah’s and she smiled a little when she felt him pause, pulling her close for another embrace. After a good, strong hug, he stooped and kissed her gently; neither had spoken a word, sometimes they didn’t need to speak to know each other's minds and this felt like one of those moments as he held her close and purred softly while she clung to him. She forgot how weary she was, his gentle strength wrapping around her more securely than the strongest armor; when he finally stepped back to look at her with concern in his eyes, she gave him another brave little smile.
“Ditti,” she closed her eyes and leaned her cheek into his hand as he caressed her face, but he frowned more deeply as he noticed her sag slightly when he stopped supporting her. “What’s wrong?”
Her blue eyes opened to study him, but the smile faded to a sorrowful expression and he nodded. “It’s… just hard right now,” her voice was quiet, filled with grief, “it’s been hard for a while now. I’m… not sleeping well, I guess.”
He looked her over with concern and she tried to force the smile back onto her face but she was too tired to pretend with him. She didn’t resist when he drew her close and hugged her again, or when he turned and began to lead her through the camp; all the way back to their tent and the sounds of sleeping kits snoring, oblivious to the morning’s woes.
“It’s been a few days now and I’m worried about you,” his voice was quiet in the early morning stillness.
“I’m alright, really.” He did not look convinced. “I’m not hurt, I’m not sick,” she watched him nod in understanding, “I just… I don’t know. I’m tired and sometimes I get dizzy. Lua said to try to stay out of the sun.”
“If something is wrong, you’d tell me?”
She looked up at him again, and sighed as she noted how deeply the lines of worry creased around his eyes now. “You know I can’t keep anything from you,” her smile was small but genuine, “but if it worries you, I can speak to the healers. I hate to bother them when they do so much…”
He tipped her chin up and met her eyes with a serious pleading look, studying her for a long moment, “I do not think any would find you a bother but… please.”
She nodded and smiled, catching his hand and kissing his palm and the scar upon it. The mark of his wild magic, and met his eyes again. “Alright, after breakfast ok?”
His own relieved smile answered hers, and he nodded before glancing to the tent and then around at the camp. “Tonight, if there’s time, perhaps we could watch the stars.”
“I will always,” Ditti stepped close once more and wrapped her arms around him as she felt the world beginning to spin again, “have time to watch the stars with you, Osiah.” She smiled at his answering purr and rested her head on his chest for a minute, letting his form anchor her until she didn’t feel like the world was lurching beneath her hooves.
Once she felt the danger pass, she slipped back into the tent to start waking the kits for breakfast and followed the group back towards a cookfire, one of the little ones in her arms while her brother clung to her fingers as he walked beside her. The scent of the sobek cooking on the breeze turned her stomach almost immediately and Ditti barely repressed the urge to gag; settling the children to start a meal while she went to ‘attend matters’, she stumbled past one of the wagons and leaned on the wheel to control her breathing, fighting the threat of sickness. Looking up, she caught the concerned glance of one of the Tabax and grimaced.
The healers were not so convinced that it was only the sun and, after a few minutes speaking to a gentle Faun from the Silverwood, she was left to sip some mint tea with a cool towel on her neck. It helped and Ditti felt quite silly as she breathed in the bright scent of the herbs until the faun returned with a second, older, healer. The second woman spoke only a few words to Ditti, gently prodding here and there until she was satisfied and turned to nod in agreement with the first and then announced with certainty that Ditti was not ill at all, but - rather - in a delicate state. Then she left, and Ditti sat in a dumbfounded silence for a long while as the healer tried to ask her questions or allay her concerns. She was barely aware of the words and shook off the continued attention with a forced, stupefied smile as she rose and pulled her cloak back over her head and stepped back into the glare.
Osiah would… what? She walked through the camp slowly, lost in her thoughts until she approached their own tent and looked around. It was already half-packed, their gear stacked outside neatly, so that meant he was nearby and… she saw movement within the tent and ducked inside quietly, sighing in relief to find him alone. He turned quickly at the soft sound and, seeing her face, looked beyond in alarm.
“I… spoke to the healers.” His eyes returned to hers, she could see she had his entire focus at that moment and for the first time since she’d known him, it seemed too much, too intense, and she fought the sudden impulse to step back from him. She looked down, feeling like he could see right through her, and wrung her hands anxiously. “I’m alright…”
He stepped closer and she felt his hand on top of both of hers, she looked up and studied his face for a minute; she could see the worry and care, and felt her own fear ease some. She tried to form words but when she opened her mouth, no sound came out. She tried again, but now she couldn’t remember what she’d wanted to say. She caught his hand and took a deep breath, then gently held it to her belly and looked up at him with a small smile filled with elation and terror, staring at his eyes to guage what his own response would be.
Green eyes studied her intently, frantic worry and confusion dominating for a few seconds before they flickered to his hand - the palm of which she pressed tenderly against her stomach with both her own and then - she watched as understanding dawned. His eyes widened as they returned to her own and a mirror of her fear flattened his ears to his skull; after a heartbeat or two though, he smiled. He looked stunned but joyous and she started to laugh at their shared disbelief, he swept her up in a hug and they both were laughing, and she was crying while he peppered her face with kisses, but they were both smiling.
Osiah sank down to sit in the middle of the tent with her in his lap and held her close for a long while, she told him what happened and before he rose, he kissed her firmly and took something from her pack and disappeared into the desert. A few minutes later he returned, holding a small bundle of bright fruits and berries in his hands which he gently laid in her lap.
“You need to eat, perhaps you just want something from the garden for breakfast?” She smiled at him as he kissed her forehead, then turned to continue packing. When their eyes met, she could tell they both had many things they wanted to say, but she answered his concern first and picked up one of the bright green fruits from Alsimi’s bush and began to eat. He was right, the sweet fruit was bursting with juice and tasted delicious, and she relished each bite.