The family was eating. This, obviously, was not unusual. The fact that they were all eating together wasn't all that unusual, either. Ordinarily Mirsajadi, one of the cubs from Vizier Tariq'ra'd's first litter with his banu Orah, took a great deal of pleasure in these family dinners. In spite of the fact that everyone present was vying for Tariq's attention and hoping that when they got their few moments he expressed approval, rather than disapproval. When Tariq disapproved, something changed in his eyes and his grin became more frightening than friendly. Mirsajadi hoped never to see that expression turned on him, and so far it had not been, but he knew better than to expect he would always bask in the safe area which was his father's contentedness or indifference.This evening was different, however. Something had been nagging at the pit of the striped brown cub's stomach for the better part of the afternoon, and now he had to struggle to keep his attention on the conversation. Mostly the conversation was directed toward a specific person, and others were not invited to participate, but Mirsajadi always tried to pay attention, just in case he was ever asked to contribute. It wouldn't do to be caught off-guard.
The cub's head ached and he really wished that he could slink away from the meal and go to sleep. For a moment it looked like his wish would come true, because his father's gaze settled on him. Usually that meant that it would be his turn to speak with his father and to do his very best to impress the dark lion, but Tariq didn't say anything to him. Instead he spoke to one of Mirsajadi's other siblings, who he asked an odd question. He asked when the last time was that sibling had played with Mirsajadi.
This was a bad thing, Mirsajadi knew instinctively, and his stomach lurched. Could it be his father had found out about some of the places he'd gotten to? Had he learned that his son had been playing with Faiz's cubs? Mirsajadi wasn't sure what that would mean for him, but it couldn't be good. He was so worried he didn't hear his sibling's response, or note his father's reaction until Tariq said his name.
It was all over in a matter of moments, and then Mirsajadi made his way to what he thought of as his spot in the den. Walking was difficult for him, and he told himself it was because of the shame of being scolded for slipping away from his mother, but he knew better. He was going to see things that weren't there again. His half-sibling, Anwar, had said he knew something about that, but Mirsajadi had been too proud and at the same time too ashamed to ask for his help, and so now he could only hide himself away when he felt the symptoms and hope he wasn't going mad.
He collapsed a few steps from his customary spot with a cry that he muffled by clamping his teeth over his own foreleg. He seized up and he shook furiously, his teeth digging into fur and flesh. Just when it seemed he would shake himself to pieces, the helpless thrashing began and he saw a trio of cubs leaping about in a misty place. All of them were shades of brown and striped, but the boy was lighter than the other two, one of whom had black spots and the other was a darker shade of brown with dark stripes. For a moment all three of them looked at him quizzically before scampering into the mists.
He watched the mists swirl and form monstrous shapes while he tried not to whimper. He was certain a monster would emerge at any moment. His vision released him before the monster was fully formed, but he'd seen its winged outline, larger than his father, and he was glad to be tossed into unconsciousness. Oblivion was less frightening to the young cub, even if it was fleeting. Soon enough, he knew, he would wake and have to deal with the aftershocks of seeing things which weren't there.
When he woke he tasted blood and realized it was his own, a result of biting his leg to keep quiet. No one was standing over him, asking if he was all right, and so he hoped no one had noticed. He couldn't stand to be found out. If Tariq knew that one of his cubs was defective in the mind...No. No one must ever find out. It was bad enough that Anwar knew. Mirsajadi was grateful that his older half-sibling was out searching for a banu, but he knew he would eventually return. He could only hope that his new banu would keep him too occupied to care about his strange little brother.
He thought about Anwar and he thought about his self-inflicted injury. He would have to clean that up, or else someone would notice and remark on the toothmarks, which would mean explanations, which would mean lying. Mirsajadi didn't have a problem with lying, but he hated to be caught in a lie, and he was beginning to learn that the best way not to get caught in a lie was not to do it at all, which meant not being in situations where lying was necessary.
Another option, he thought as he licked at the wound, was to simply avoid his family until the marks healed. They weren't deep, and he didn't think they'd leave scars or start bleeding randomly. But that would mean sneaking away from home, and after being chastised for doing just that, Mirsajadi was reluctant to pursue that course right away. There had to be something else. The answer must be a simple one, he was sure, and he was confident he was clever enough to uncover it.
Then he had it. He would play rough and tumble for a few days, and then it would seem perfectly ordinary. He didn't like to play like that, but it was in a good cause. Besides, it had been some time since he'd played with his siblings, and he wanted to put some hurt into the one who had outed him to Tariq. This was sounding like a better plan already. And the best part, he thought as he fell into an exhausted stupor, was that he hadn't thrown up.
