Eudeyrn coughed himself awake, finding light beyond the lingering haze of his dreams. No, dream was improper. They were nightmares, but he wouldn’t submit to the fear that entailed. Fear would do him no good here, it wouldn’t relieve his symptoms or help Haruma tend to the sick. He didn’t want to become one of those terrified shells he saw her tending to day after day. She was so strong; it made him sick to think about it in comparison. He aspired to priesthood, his life’s work was in pleasing the gods but he couldn’t look upon what they had caused without feeling his stomach turn over. He didn’t have a choice, he had to be stronger. For her, and for the cubs that had so recently fallen under her wing. He wasn’t sure what he was to them, but he knew that it meant becoming more than he thought himself capable of. It was the right place for that, he knew. No matter what happened Haruma would always be at his side, would always be there to give everything of herself with no complaint. It was one of the reasons he loved her so dearly. Swallowing back acid he pulled himself to his feet and lumbered to the mouth of the cave, his back legs dragging slightly. It was progressing faster, he noted, attempting to flex the paws. They responded only slightly, a delayed sort of motion that made him nervous. He would do no good hunting anymore, not that he had ever excelled at it. But there was an opportunity on the horizon, something he knew he could do well at. You didn’t have to be strong or fast to be a father, only attentive and caring, that much he knew. His own father had been somewhat of a riddle, with his half siblings so close in age, but he had done no true wrong aside from that done to his mother. The thought made him both happy and sad. Happy, because he knew nothing would light up Eppie’s life quite so much as a litter of grandcubs running around, but also sad because he knew how much she worried, for him and for his siblings. It could only be compounded with more souls. But he had promised Haruma, and she was right that they needed it. They needed to move on with their lives and find some purpose, otherwise their eventual deaths would be in vain. And Haruma had only the mildest symptoms, so there was hope for their cubs to be mild cases or even immune. Immunity, he smiled, looking up toward the sky. That was the gift of the gods in some ways but a curse in others. While an immune lion could look forward to a long life and no true handicaps in their life they would also be faced with the imminent suffering of everyone around them. That must have been how Haruma was feeling with Ruko. He was dizzu. Reflexivly he leaned against the cave wall and took in a deep breath, feeling his vision blur and refocus a few times before it stabilized. He had to be careful, or he might not last at all. Maybe it was time for him to get a nurse, it might take some of the burden off of Haruma while she was caring for Ruko’s cubs, and if they planned to have their own she would certainly need the rest. But he didn’t need a healer nurse, not quite yet anyway, just someone to help him keep the place tidy and get around. Maybe they could even gather herbs for Haruma while he walked. He was still able to do that, but bending down to pluck them often resulted in a head rush that he’d rather avoid. Nothing would scare Haruma quite so much as hearing he had knocked himself unconscious in the woods. He laughed a bit, covering it with a cough so that he wouldn’t look insane. He wasn’t yet accepted among the true priests of the pride, and it would do no good for them to think him mad. With that thought in mind he moved from the den, heading toward the altars to begin his day. It was slow going, his back legs still resistant to his commands, but with each step he felt it become a little easier. Beneath his usual post he had left a second flower wreath, and for a moment he stopped to appreciate that fact that it was still there. It was the little things like that that would lead to the favor of the gods. Slowly he leaned down and picked it up, lifting up his head to let it fall down around his mane. He felt the stems tangle together some but made no effort to fix them. If they were going to jab at him than let them, there were a lot worse things in the world. And he enjoyed the smell; the odors drifting up into his face from the wreath reminded him of gathering with Haruma, in a time when his body was entirely his own and faces that had since left them still walked the earth. He feared their departure more than he would admit. While he did believe that the gods took care of those gone from the soil he couldn’t suppress all of his anxieties on the subject. There were so many that went to the grave screaming, and while he hoped that they would instantly be pacified in the afterlife he had no way of being sure. The thought turned his stomach, it was those thoughts he would never share with Haruma. The knowledge that those she lost were in a place free of pain meant so much to her, so much to all of them really, that it did no good to disrupt it. Even still, he wondered if she or any of the other priests and healers, those who faced death on a daily basis, ever had the same doubts. Maybe then he wouldn’t feel so guilty for them. But was it worth it? No, simply selfish. Sighing he laid the wreath down against the oldest of the altars and lowered himself beside it to pray.
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