Mated to the Warrior Beast

170 Culture Clash

~ HARTH ~

Harth woke first the next morning, which was rare. Tarkyn must be truly exhausted.

She lay there for a moment, hugging his back that rose and fell slowly and evenly, watching the tent sides flutter in the slight breeze, glowing from the rising sun behind them.

Her tent was looking sad. She needed to tighten the lines and… she pushed the thoughts away. Today held much, much more important things than the state of her tent.

Rolling slowly away so she wouldn’t disturb her mate, she rose, still dressed, and crept out of the tent to allow Tarkyn to continue to rest. If she could find some friends and tell them, let them scent her, then they could bring Tarkyn in—

“Harth?!”

She’d just passed out of the cluster of mostly-empty tents and into one of the central areas where fires and resources were gathered for everyone’s use.

Despite the early hour there were several Chimera gathered around the fire. Harth looked up and blinked, smiling when one of the female wolves leaped to her feet and rushed towards her.

She barely had time to think before a dozen wolves were advancing, some huffing, some howling, all of them rushing with joy to greet her—approaching with eyes wide, then piling against her when they were certain of her scent, rubbing on her, sharing scents, and calling for others.

.....

The pack link came alive with voices.

‘Our sister is back and she’s safe!’

‘Harth is returned!’

‘Come see, come see!’

‘She’s really here!’

Harth laughed, her chest blazing with warmth and joy at the greeting of her pack mates, even as nerves threaded through her veins, because as soon as the greetings were done she would have to introduce them to Tarkyn. But at least there would be plenty of them gathered to welcome him and face Zev when he appeared. It was unlikely he’d be cut off from the pack mind—

A heavy weight slammed against Harth’s shoulder—one of the young males growing over-excited and leaping across the pile of females to rub his face against her, but it caught her off guard. Already off balance because of the bodies rushing her, Harth stumbled and when the females gave way from her movement, fell to her side, her elbow barking with pain when she landed, and the air rushing out of her.

Harth tried to suck in, to laugh, and to warn them back as several of the wolves piled over her, huffing with joy.

“Get off, you’re heavy!” she gasped, still laughing, but her breath still short from the thud to the ground. “I want to see all of you—”

An unholy roar echoed across the valley, rolling off into a vicious snarl. It shook the ground and made Harth’s breath stop.

The wolves scrambled forward and aside, whipping around to meet the unknown predator, as Tarkyn leaped to stand over Harth, half-crouched, hands open at his sides ready to strike, that growl still rolling in his chest like the land under their feet.

“Tarkyn, no!” Harth gasped, scrambling to her feet. But her mate growled again when one of the female wolves bared her teeth, and his back rippled.

“Stay away… from my mate…” he snarled, his chest heaving and hands twitching.

“Tarkyn!” Harth rushed to touch him, to break through the defensive instincts that were clearly overwhelming him as he stared down the pack of wolves that had surrounded her. “They were just greeting me! It’s what we do—I’m not hurt, see?”

Tarkyn wouldn’t take his eyes off the line of wolves that had scattered at his roar, but none of them had fled, only instinctively moved to give themselves space to turn and fight.

To Harth’s dismay, the females made a semi-circle around them, all of them with heads lowered defensively and hackles up, eyes locked on Tarkyn, while the males—mostly the younger, but more arriving every second, began to pace back and forth behind them.

Shit. Shit! The wolves were most effective when they hunted as packs. If Tarkyn shifted, they’d all turn too and then—

“He’s my mate!” Harth cried, shoving past Tarkyn to stand in front of him. “Don’t hurt him! He’s my mate! Scent me! The bond is complete—it’s… it’s unique because he’s Anima, but it’s there, please! Don’t hurt him!”

Tarkyn’s growl ripped into a snarl when she passed him, and he grabbed for her wrist, trying to pull her back behind him, but Harth fought him, shaking her head, sending to him through the bond.

‘You don’t need to protect me from my people, Tarkyn. Open your eyes. They were greeting me—it’s you who’s unsafe right now!’

“Please!” she called to her brothers and sisters who were watching her warily, but hadn’t stopped pacing and defending. “Please, we’re ar—”

“Your mate is a cat?” one of the stronger females asked, her voice flat and cautious.

“Oh, he’s so much more than that.” The voice, deep and cold, chilled Harth’s blood.

The wolves fell back immediately, submitting as Zev appeared at the back of the pack, Lhars and Skhal at his shoulders. Harth’s breath stopped.

Zev stood behind the other wolves, his eyes fierce and upper lip curling back from his teeth, a predator on the edge of attack. Then, when the others gave room and he prowled forward, it was with jaw set, and chin low. His bright blue eyes as cold as ice—not on Harth, but on Tarkyn.

Harth wasn’t sure whether to be relieved or terrified. “Zev! Zev, you can tell them—he’s my mate—”

“Stand down,” Zev growled, and the pack immediately backed away—including Lhars and Skhal, obeying the order to stop advancing.

Harth could finally breathe, but as she straightened, putting one arm back to find Tarkyn, Zev didn’t slow, but stalked towards them, his face a dark mask, eyes fierce.

“He’s a cat?!” Lhars called from behind him. “One of theirs?”

“Worse,” Zev answered through his teeth, coming to a prickling halt in front of Harth, his eyes still locked on Tarkyn over her shoulder. “He’s that bitch Queen’s Captain of Arms. The question is… does he come as an ally, or a spy?”

Behind him, growls rose in a cloud from the pack.