Characters involved:
Muunokhoi (xxx)
Mchawi (xxx)
Kefir (xxx)

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Muunokhoi's face was hard as stone as he brutally shoved the dark-pelted male ahead of him, a smear of blood on his face where he had bitten through fur to wound the enslaved seer. He was furious and that emotion had coiled into a cold, hard stone in his chest. A stone that had begun to weigh too heavy for him to bear. But if he dropped it now the seer would be dead and he knew the punishment for that could at best be the stripping of his rank.

At worst...his own death.

He gave the male another shove and the poor creature stumbled and fell on his face, crumpling onto his side a moment later. Luckily for him, they had arrived at their destination and Muunokhoi's booming voice called a summoning.

"Kaar Oma!"

The said 'Kaar Oma' appeared at the entrance of her den all elegance and delicate poise. Her home was a cruel looking place, formed of a hollow amongst a scraggle of thorns. Perched above the entrance, as always, was the black raven; its shining eye fixed distrustfully upon the Nergui.

Mchawi smiled and dipped her head. "Muunokhoi Oma." She knew he was not deserving of the title 'Oma' but used it anyway, perhaps in an attempt to placate him. It seemed to work, a little. When he spoke again, it was at a slightly lower pitch than before.

"This sud-kvovm rakikak to oed sra Graos Oma. If aeui cannot saocr him, I verr tear uis his srruos."

Mchawi was by no means fluent in the language of these strange peoples, but her time spent here had made her extremely good at guessing of their meaning. Muunokhoi was an angry sort and she knew enough of the gossip to guess who the young male was he had dragged here with him. If the failed seer had been brought here, to her, she was clearly being appointed as his trainer, to try and win him over to the side of the Nergui. He would have been killed, otherwise, or taken back to his slave work.

Her phrases of this Nergui tongue were few and far between, but she had seen enough compliant Nergui forces to tell him that she would do his bidding without argument. With the smallest hint of a smile on her face, she dipped her head again and spoke the words: "Ak you koae." Or, in the common tongue: 'as you say'.

Muunokhoi said nothing more and, with a low growl, he turned and swept away, his hackles still bristled as he disappeared amongst the undergrowth and back to his other duties.

And, with him gone, Mchawi turned her piercing eyes down towards the pathetic form of the lion who had been left to her. He was probably average in size, though he seemed small and frail next to monsters such as Muunokhoi. His pelt was nothing to marvel at beneath the dust and blood. No extravagant markings or unusual colourations that might have him stand out in a crowd. His eyes, at that time, were closed fast, his scraggly whiskers lying flat against his muzzle. The thin lines of his ribs could be seen beneath a horrible, bloody score on his side. Some might have been moved to tears to see him lying there but Mchawi had no heart. Not for him, anyway. She couldn't care less if he had died right there on her 'porch'.

"He is dying?" Moma, the raven, queried from her perch amongst the thorns.

"Not as desperate as all that." Mchawi replied smoothly, reaching out with a paw to run it down over his shoulder. When he did not react she leaned in close to his ear and whispered. "Come now, little Kaar, I know you can hear me. Know you can understand me. That is why you were brought here, yes?"

Nothing.

She hooked a paw under his chin and moved his head up to see better into his face. He was a young male. Very young, really. His mane was grown in, but still hadn't gained the fullness to suggest it had been in existence for years. "I am not the enemy, boy. I am Kaar, like you."

"I am not like you." He replied hoarsely, though his eyes stayed shut.

"You are, little male, because if you were not, you would be dead. Now come, tell me your name."

"I am not."

"Your name." She demanded a little harder. Behind her, Moma gave a low caw of caution. Harsh treatment had clearly not gotten the boy to open up before now. Mchawi would have to watch her tone. Thankfully, that time, it seemed to work.

"Kefir."

"Welcome to my home, Kefir. I am Mchawi. The one they call--"

"--Kaar Oma." He finished for her.

"That is correct. Do you know why you are here, Kefir?"

"I am not what they think I am." And this time he did open his eyes. They were shockingly bright in his face. "I cannot see what they want me to see."

Mchawi moved to lay beside him, reaching out to rest a paw over one of his. He trembled against her side and she curled a lip to think of any of his blood getting on her. She could manipulate the best of them but it didn't mean she always had to enjoy it. "Now, now, dear one. Is this because you have never had the gift or because it has disappeared?"

Silence again. Clearly he still didn't feel comfortable talking to her.

"Why do you treat me as you treat them?"

"You are one of them Kaar Oma." He coughed, a low, dry cough that quaked through him. "The only difference is that you speak the common tongue."

"I will never be one of the Nergui. You think I am any different from you, child? You think I would have taken this life if I had any other choice? There was never any option of leaving. No. No, child. We either play the game or we die."

He gave a low sob at that and she tried to placate him, patting his paw with a tender action.

"I play the game. I am their seer. I tell them of my visions and in return I am treated with respect. Will it last? Will they always come to rely on me? Perhaps not, but the longer I survive, the better chance I have of finding my freedom again." It was all lies, of course. She had been excited at the prospect of joining with the Nergui and thrived on the attention she was being given. She would not have chosen to go back to the life of a rogue where here she was known as Kaar Oma. Revered and feared. This was everything she had always desired. "Are you so eager to give up and die, child? You who are so young. If you only agreed to help them, there would be no more need to suffer."

"Even if I wanted to." He rasped. "I cannot. The gift. It is gone."

"The gift never leaves us, child. Perhaps your hardships have it hiding somewhere deep inside of you. Come, rest here in this sanctuary. Here, no Nergui will dare to harm you. You will be safe under my protection."

"I can't."

"Why are you so eager to die, young one?"

But he didn't respond. He turned his head away and squeezed his eyes tightly closed. There was no trust and even as Mchawi got back onto her paws and moved back into her den, he remained lying there on the ground, under the sun.

The raven ruffled her wings nervously and spoke in a low voice. "What if he dies under your care, Mchawi? The Nergui may not be happy."

"Maybe not. But he is Kaar. I am Kaar Oma. My life is far more valuable than his."

"I do not think he will talk to you."

"No. But I know someone who he might."

The raven tilted her head curiously. "Who?"

"Who else?" She said. "The lion charmer, of course."