275: Master

Master

LERRIN - Anima2

That evening, weary to his bones, he returned to his tent via the back trails around the outside of the encampment, hoping to miss much of the attention he was receiving when he walked through his people.

He was truly grateful for their support, but having spent most of the afternoon in the company of various wolves, and connected to the pack mind, he was reaching his limit. What he needed was to clean himself, eat, then sleep.

In that order?

He sighed heavily. He should really eat first since he'd have to gather with the others to do it and he suspected once he entered his tent and cleaned, it would be very difficult to return to being under the eyes of others again.

Meals in the encampment were informal. There was no spot large enough for all of them to gather, so the cooks had set up several cookfires throughout the ravine. There was one fairly close to his tent. And most of the wolves that used it were friends. But maybe that was the problem. They knew him. And his family. They grieved—and their grief honored his fallen pack. But right now, when he needed to be strong, soft eyes and simple affections grated on him like teeth at his neck.

No. He might regret it later, but for now, he would return to his tent and bathe before the meal. He desperately needed solitude and quiet and… peace.

His mind flashed then on that vision he'd had out in the forest when he'd buried Lucine, of a den in the mountains with no pack except his own. A mate and offspring and simple smiles… His chest ached and he pushed the image away, his teeth gritted.

He just wanted to be alone.

When he could no longer avoid walking through the encampment itself, he set his jaw and strode quickly along the walkways between tents and the small buildings they slowly erecting, so anyone who saw him believed he was in a hurry to reach an important appointment. Something suitably Alpha.

It worked. Only two wolves greeted him and neither broke stride when he nodded and kept moving. It was with a sigh of relief when he accepted the salute of the guards on his tent, then pushed the flap aside and finally let himself sag out of the dominant posture he'd maintained all day.

Raking a hand through his hair he began to remove his shirt and turned towards the small table at the side where he always left a bowl of water and…

He blinked.

A large copper tub squatted on the freshly swept dirt, steam rising from the water within, as if it had only been filled seconds earlier. Who…? How?

He didn't believe in living luxuriously when his people still scraped for every morsel out here in the forest. It was why the tent had bothered him. So much space when many others shared.

But Lucine had helped him to see…

His sister's face swam to mind, a memory of the day they'd moved to the encampment and been presented with their tents by those who'd been working to create the place. He'd accepted the offering of the generous home uncomfortably, intending to change to a smaller tent as soon as he could do so gracefully.

But an hour later when he expressed the idea, Lucine had growled her frustration, eyes rolling as they often did right after he spoke. When she did meet his gaze, it was with sharp intensity.

"Neither of us needs all this space, Brother," she'd said quietly. "But they need us to have it," she'd said, tipping her head towards the rest of the encampment.

"Don't be ridiculous—"

"Lerrin, Alphas must be seen as deserving of more than the common pack members. If they do not, why are they Alpha?"

"We are Alpha because we are strong."

"And as such we must shoulder burdens that will not be required of them. If I must carry the weight of them with me, Creator let me do it in a comfortable fur," she said, grinning.

Lerrin had blinked. "But—"

"Brother, you carry leadership well—better than I," she said quietly, checking behind her. Lucine was never one to show weakness. Not even when the softening might be attractive to others. "But there is clearly something I understand that you do not: If they see no difference between you and themselves, when they are squeezed in the vice of this war, they will question why they follow instead of lead. And we both know that will take us nowhere good."

He hadn't been able to argue her logic. He'd soothed his own conscience by telling himself he would invite others to share the space… or something.

But then Elia had been captured.

Then Lucine—who had already been shaky since her shunning—had… lost her mind.

And everything since…

"I know you prefer to bathe, Sire. I hope the tub is large enough. It was the best I could find on such short notice. It is shameful that none have organized this for you sooner."

Suhle's voice snapped Lerrin out of the memory, and out of his slack-jawed gape at the bath. The warm, steaming bath that he hadn't dreamed to find—or even considered possible. She sat in a small rocking chair she must have brought into the tent.

"Th-thank you," he stumbled, then blinked again and turned to face her. "This is… extravagant. But I am truly thankful for the thought, Suhle."

He was already working on the buttons of his shirt. When he shrugged it off and made to fold it, she tsked and took it from him. "Please, let me. I have brushed all your clothes and you can have a fresh one for after your bath. I have laid them out already," she said, indicating a small bench at the foot of the tub with a thick towel, and fresh leathers and shirt folded on it.

He should protest, he knew. His people were receiving none of this treatment. But his body ached. He'd barely slept the night before. And one thing he'd never been able to stand was to feel dirty.

"Thank you, Suhle," he said, shucking off his leathers, and handing them to her as he stepped into the tub. With a soft groan, he let himself sink into it, then let his head fall back to rest on its raised end and sighed as happily as he was able at that point. He closed his eyes and let himself relax. Just for a moment. Just a few breaths. Then he would get clean and—

Cool fingers appeared at his temples, rubbing gently. He startled, but she put her hand flat to his forehead to stop him sitting up, and spoke, her voice very low.

"For a few minutes when you return in the evening, I will help you," she said with a soft smile, her eyes shining out from the shadows under her thick white hood. "If you allow it," she added, thoughtfully, "Just a few minutes to… replenish you. Then you will be better able to meet the challenges of the dark hours." Her voice, he found, was incredibly soothing. Gentle and slightly husky. "Do not chide yourself for finding a moment to rest. It will strengthen you and make you a better leader."

He opened his mouth to argue, but then she began massaging his temples, her fingers running slow spirals, her thumbs rubbing through his hair in counterpoint and it felt so delicious he groaned again and goosebumps prickled his neck and shoulders.

"There is a great fallacy among leaders—especially male leaders, I have found," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "The believe weakness is in finding moments to rest or find joy. But they do not realize that those thoughts are the work of the enemy, designed to keep you always on the edge of being overwhelmed." Her fingers worked their magic, and Lerrin's eyes slid closed and he huffed contentedly. "If you will give me thirty minutes each day at this time, I will make certain you meet the night stronger—and sleep better, to better meet the next day, as well."

She spoke softly and slowly, but not irritatingly so.

Lerrin sighed. "I should say no, but I find… Thank you, Suhle, this is very thoughtful of you."

"You're welcome, Sire," she said, her voice tinged in delight. "Now rest for a few moments while I wash you, then while you dress, I will bring your meal."

He knew he should tell her not to do that. He would tell her not to do that. In just a moment. He just needed to relax under the gentle pressure of her fingers and rest his eyes… 

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