Amun Sunsaver's Arc

Chapter 3 of 3

Amun left the recovery hall on steady paws and walked alone to the tall stone tower he had rented for the tournament. He climbed the winding stairs past every shuttered floor until he reached his private chamber at the top. The noise of Netherhaven fell away behind the heavy door. He lay on the simple wood-frame bed and stared at the ceiling. His body had stopped on the sand. He could not understand it. His arm had been willing. His spear had been sharp. But something deeper had said no, and he did not know its name. He reached into his pack for something familiar. His paw closed on soft, clean cloth. He pulled out the folded white diaper from home and ran his fingers over the smooth fabric and the small brass pins. Before he could think it through, he fastened it on. A long breath left his chest. The tight thing behind his ribs loosened. For the first time since the arena, he felt still. The stillness cracked something open. His pack tipped, and a round medallion rolled out onto the blanket — the rising sun over quiet hills. His mother's emblem. He remembered her on the doorstep at dawn, palms turned up, whispering to the morning god. The memory hit him hard. He could not push it back down. He did not want to. Amun knelt beside the bed and cupped the medallion in both paws. He bowed his head and spoke the dawn prayer he had not said in years. His voice shook, then steadied. He chose the soft thing. He chose the prayer. Tomorrow he would walk back to the sand carrying both, and let the tournament see what a leonin built of comfort and faith could do.