Lyor gently lowered him to his lap, hand still on his fur, soft patting. Sol wished Ceera and Mira would arrive fast, so that he could escape this death grip and embarrassment.
Even though he did not want to, it bothered him that the kid was feeling such deep grief that he or anyone in Nemeteia was accustomed to. A feeling that resembled being ripped out piece by piece. He must have loved his family so much. Knowing that he couldn't go back must have pushed him over the edge.
He glanced up only to see Lyor's vacant eyes cast far, exhausted.
"I'm sorry I fell on you. I couldn't see you after that. I don't know where I am even now," the words spilled from him, unchecked, into the empty forest. "They say I can't go back. But I have to go back."
A pause.
"I lied, you know?"
Sol's ear flicked.
No, I don't, and I have no intention of knowing. He responded, which came out as a string of meows, and the idiot misunderstood it to keep talking.
"About my father picking up. A-and wanting to go back."
Huh? You made all this ruckus, but you don't want to go back? He thought.
"I mean, I want to go back, but not to the apartment. My father is there. Because I am useless to him, he put me here. So-sold me for money. I know that. And if I escape here, he finds me, he will hit me and bring me back here this time."
Sol stiffened, hearing those words.
This time? His father had left him before, and he hit his own son?
"So I want to get far away. Somewhere, he can't find me. Somewhere better. Do you think there is a better place?"
You are literally there. Here is better. No one would hurt you here. Another string of meow.
"You are a good listener, aren't you, Hunter?"
Sol grumbled but listened. In this form, he could do nothing else, but for the first time, he didn't mind as long as the kid could let out what was on his mind. Having met over 30 newcomers over the years, he could tell that something was not right with this kid, and this feeling of hopelessness was hurting him.
He could not fix anything as a cat, could not hunt monsters, could not perform competence, and could not be of any use to anyone. Him more than anyone, knew how it felt.
"Wait, people here. Are there more like me?"
Sol shook his head.
"You understand what I'm saying?" Lyor amused.
Sol nodded.
"I must be dreaming."
Sol shook his head.
"If they kept you here and you are not hurt, it means this might be a better place?" It was more of a question than a statement.
Sol meowed a yes that Lyor didn't understand.
"But what if this place is worse? What if they're lying about not making me work? What if they just want me to think I'm safe and then..."
The hand on Sol's fur stilled, then resumed, automatic, seeking comfort while giving it.
"I can't trust them. People lie all the time," Lyor whispered. "I can't trust any of it. Being kind without wanting something. It doesn't work like that. I'll take you with me. You are safe with me."
Sol thought of his own arrival.
Fourteen, confused, angry, burning with a violence he did not understand. The village had given him space, time, and the task to hunt to channel what roared inside him. No one had demanded gratitude. No one had kept a record of his outbursts.
He thought of Lyor's list of work, the counting on fingers, the practiced recitation of tasks. I can work without eating. I can work without sleeping. No one in Nemeteia had even accidentally thought of such things.
The way he had said eighteen with hollow certainty.
Wherever this kid came from, it had been somewhere worse than Sol hadn't even thought of. Worse than the unknown terrors beyond the barrier around Nemeteia.
Even though he felt what Lyor felt so intensely, he couldn't understand most of it, other than knowing he did not want to feel like that.
Before Lyor, he was happy and content.
Now, there was something growing inside of him that he couldn't quite place a name to. Something unfinished. An urge to make this kid smile and to tell him that all of his past was not something that would repeat here.
The purr in Sol's chest grew louder, involuntary, responding to the need beneath the words.
Then his ears picked up leaves crunching. Mira and Ceera slowly stepped forward. Lyor scrambled up, holding Sol to his chest, and backed against the root. "No— I—"
Sol jumped down from his arms but came near to him, head pressing against his leg, then running toward Ceera and Mira, weaving around their ankles, returning, repeating. A demonstration.
See? Safe. They are safe.
Mira stepped forward, slowly. "Lyor. We truly are sorry that you can't go back to your family. If there were a way, we would gladly help to get you back. It's not... It's not by choice that we don't want you to go. People here are happy. They don't want to leave. We want you to understand that."
"You can't stay out here. It's too dangerous. We won't make you do anything that you don't want to. Just come with us for now." Mira pleaded.
"One day," Ceera added. "Stay one complete day. Then decide."
Sol returned to Lyor, sat at his feet, stared up with golden brown eyes, and nodded.
"Are you telling me it's safe?" He asked Sol. Not from Mira or Ceera, who did the explanation.
Sol nodded and meowed.
"This place is better?"
Another nod.
"Okay," Lyor said. The word was barely audible. "One day."
He bent to pick Sol up, as if he wanted to keep him safe, but Sol had to slip away, feeling his transformation ending. Moved a few paces toward the village, looked back, moving his head towards the village.
A gesture. Follow.
And Lyor followed.
Sol ran ahead, disappearing around the bend where he could transform back unseen, his curse time nearly spent. Behind him, he heard Mira's voice, gentle, wondering.
"Hunter doesn't let anyone touch him. He must've grown fond of you."
He reached the cover of a Whisperwood thicket, felt the shift begin, fur receding, limbs lengthening, perspective rising. Elowen was there with his clothes, and he figured Teebu must have summoned him. He glared at him, who already had his hands held up in surrender and was muttering sorry, saying he would fix this soon.
Sol pulled on his clothes, secured his sword, and waited until his breathing steadied.
Then he waited till they arrived with Elowen fuzzing around him, spluttering nonsense.
When they did, Lyor looked at him once and looked away.
Of course, you are scared of me.