Return

[malavhenan]

A horn sounds from the edge of the camp.

The energy in the tent immediately shifts, the conversation cut short as they all stop to listen, murmuring softly between one another.

The hunters have returned.

From his place beside her, Finel thinks he can feel Keeper Dashenna's wry smile as the other occupants become more obviously restless. They've been in the meeting tent for nearly two hours by now, their legs sore and attention waning. In turn, they all try to sneak glances toward the exit, voices and footsteps running by outside on their way to determine the results of the hunt and greet the return of their loved ones after so many days.

Finel grips his staff more tightly, toes curling into the ground in an effort to hide at least some of his own impatience. He's not so successful at keeping the anticipation from his eyes as he looks to their leader, who seems to be rather bemused at her suddenly anxious council.

"All right," Dashenna finally relents with a smile and shake of her head. "Let us go see how our hunters have fared."

With quick murmurs of 'Keeper' and an eager shuffling of feet, the tent empties in seconds. Finel waits, rocking lightly onto his heels until they've all gone; Dashenna usually has more to discuss with him after such meetings, to offer further insight and reasonings that he may need to understand as Keeper himself one day. But thankfully today she takes pity on him, a twinkle of understanding in her eyes as she briefly presses her hand to his cheek.

"Go on, da'len. Go to him."

Finel can't hold back the relieved smile that brightens his face. "Ma serannas," he says, flashing her a grin before he too swiftly departs.

It only takes a few hurried paces before he abandons all pretense and jogs to the entrance of the encampment that has been their home for the past several weeks. He dodges under the awning of an aravel, nearly startling a halla grazing nearby, just barely holding onto the last shreds of his patience that keep him from simply fade-stepping the rest of the way.

Most of the clan is already there, helping to distribute and carry away the bounty of gathered herbs, mushrooms, and dried meats. The fresh kills are taken for butchering, to be eaten that very evening. Finel finally slows only when he reaches the edge of the crowd, weaving through the throng to make his way to the center.

He hears him first, a patient, warm voice, slightly winded with weariness.

"No, we did not see any bears this time." There's a grin in the pause. "Your big sister scared them all away for us."

Finally the last person steps aside, and the scene is much as Finel had imagined: Talen, crouched on the ground next to the young Mavani, her eyes as big as saucers, clutching her own small bow in both hands.

"Really?" she asks incredulously.

Bright blue eyes sparkle a little with mirth. "Really."

Finel feels his chest tighten when they finally find his.

"Ah - but you'll have to excuse me, da'len, there's someone else I have to see right now. Go find your sister and ask her all about the bears."

With a nod Mavani bounds away, and with her departure the last of Finel's endurance evaporates. His staff drops unceremoniously to the ground as Talen stands, leaving both hands free to reach for him, winding in dusty leather and tangled auburn hair to lean in for much longed-for kiss. The pleased hum against his lips that follows a heartbeat later only makes Finel sink into him more, heart lightening as he presses into the familiar warmth of those arms.

They break only far enough apart for air.

"Vhenan," Talen breathes, and Finel inhales, lips hovering above lips, as though to pull the offered word into himself.

"I've missed you." He illustrates the soft confession with a brush of their noses. Talen rewards him with a light chuckle, tracing a gentle path along the top of one ear.

"It was only a few days," the hunter murmurs lowly in response and rubs the tip between his thumb and forefinger. Finel shivers. "But I've missed you more than the Creators surely miss this world."

It's Finel's turn to laugh now, but he cuts it short with another kiss, fingers curling a little more tightly.

"I'd say that I miss you more, but then we'd just carry on and on until nightfall and I still won't have gotten to kiss you enough to make up for it."

Talen hums in agreement. "You're right." He takes one last, lingering kiss before reluctantly loosening his embrace. "We'll have to settle it later. Serran needs your help - broken ankle.
He got a little too cocky going after a ram."

"I'll see to him," Finel promises, but doesn't step away until he's pressed lips to Talen's cheek just below the scar that crackles from temple to nearly his nose. A faint prickling of mana tingles warmly against skin in its wake. His voice lowers. "And to you, later."

---

Later, thankfully, is not long. Finel sets and heals Serran's ankle as the rest of the supplies are taken away and stored. The hunters disperse to rest while others prepare for the evening feast as the sun begins to sink toward the horizon, casting long shadows from the trees.