Maverick dommer's Arc

Chapter 7 of 8

The morning after the change, Mylonin still could not stand. Maverick fed it broth from a wooden cup, one hand under its head. Its new womb was ready, the roots said. But the moon had nearly finished its turn. Maverick knew what the elders wanted. He also knew his mate was too weak to try. He set the cup down and made a hard choice. He would wait one more day for Mylonin to gather strength, or the bond would end with nothing. That night, Mylonin found him at the well inside the glowing grove. Its vine hair had greened again. Color had returned to its cheeks. "I am ready," it said. It touched his broad chest with a slender hand. "The roots sang all day. My body wants this now. We have no more time to lose." Maverick studied its face. He remembered how thin it had grown. "You nearly split apart," he said. "I will not break you." "You will not," Mylonin said. It took two of his four hands and pressed them to its full hips. "I chose you at the falls. I chose this pain. Let me choose this too." He knelt then, the way he had knelt the first day. All four hands open. Mylonin smiled and drew him up. Inside the mushroom cottage, the walls pulsed soft blue. Maverick was careful. He was slow. Two arms cradled Mylonin's back. Two held its trembling hands, the way he had held them through the fever. Mylonin's breath quickened, but the roots sang instead of screaming. Its skin stayed warm and teal. It did not cool. It did not brown at the tips. When it was done, they lay tangled in the glow. Mylonin pressed both their hands to its belly. "I feel it," it whispered. "Something has taken hold. Deep, like a seed in dark soil." Its eyes shone. "Your line will carry on, Maverick. Across the stars, you said. It begins here." Maverick let out a long breath. He had built the shelter. He had survived the falls. He had guarded his mate through the change. Now his seed had found a place to grow. For the first time, the elder's deadline felt beaten. But at dawn, Mylonin woke pale and shaking. It clutched its stomach and doubled over the bed. A thin green fluid ran down its leg. "Something is wrong," it gasped. "The seed took, but my body fights it. This flesh is too new. It does not know how to hold a child." It gripped his arm hard. "Maverick, I could lose it. I could lose both of us." Maverick caught Mylonin before it fell. The child was made. Now he had to keep it from dying inside a body that had never carried life. He wrapped his mate in his arms and turned toward the village. He needed a Mycelonite healer, and he needed one before the sun climbed higher.