Chapter 33: The Snow Leopard Clan
By the time they were ready to leave for the clan lands, Dginnie had packed enough gifts to stock a small shop.
Kael stood beside the luggage and regarded it with the grave concern of a man who had discovered that his mate intended to move house without telling him.
"Dginnie."
"Yes?"
"How long are we staying?"
"The weekend."
"Are you aware that you have packed for a migration?"
"I have packed for contingencies."
"You have packed contingencies for your contingencies."
She adjusted a neatly wrapped parcel.
"What if someone arrives unexpectedly?"
"They will be my relatives."
"Exactly. I don't know how many of them there are, or what they like, or whether someone might bring a friend, or whether there will be children who need something."
Kael looked at the luggage again.
"And what is that?"
"Extra gifts."
"How many extra gifts?"
"Enough to go around."
He closed his eyes briefly.
Dginnie gave him a hopeful smile.
"I want to make a good impression."
"You will."
"You don't know that."
"I know my family."
"That doesn't mean they'll like me."
Kael opened his eyes.
"Dginnie, my family like people who make an effort. They like people who are kind to the cubs, willing to eat what they cook, and capable of laughing when something goes wrong. You are already doing all three."
"What if I accidentally offend someone?"
"Then we apologise and sort it out."
"What if I don't realise I've offended someone?"
"Then I will help you."
"What if I—"
He took her hands.
"Dginnie."
She stopped.
"You don't have to be perfect to visit my family."
She looked down.
"I know."
"Do you?"
She made a small, reluctant sound.
Kael stepped closer.
"They aren't waiting to judge whether you deserve to be with me. They want to meet the woman I love. They want to know you, and they want you to know them."
Dginnie swallowed.
"What if they don't like me?"
"Then they will have to explain to me why they have such poor taste."
She laughed despite herself.
Kael smiled.
"There. That's better."
She looked at him for a moment before throwing her arms around him.
He caught her easily.
"I really do want them to like me," she murmured against his chest.
"I know."
"I want to know them, too."
"I know that, as well."
"And I want to see where you grew up."
His arms tightened around her.
"Then you will."
She held him for another moment before stepping back.
"All right. Let's go."
Kael glanced at the luggage.
"Do we need all of it?"
"Yes."
"Of course we do."
He picked up the bags.
Dginnie pretended not to notice the fond smile on his face.
The journey to the clan lands was more comfortable than she had expected. Kael explained where they were going, pointed out landmarks, and answered questions about the landscape. The farther they travelled from the city, the more the surroundings changed. Buildings became less crowded. Roads gave way to quieter routes. Soon they were travelling toward higher and higher altitudes. The air felt heavier and yet thinner. Definitely colder. Snow lay thick across the open ground, gathering on branches and covering the slopes beyond the settlement.
Dginnie watched the scenery through the window.
"This is beautiful."
Kael looked at her rather than the view.
"I thought you might like it."
"Do you come here often?"
"When I can. More often before I began studying in the city."
"Did you spend a lot of time outside as a cub?"
"Yes. Hunting, climbing, exploring, getting into trouble."
"What sort of trouble?"
"The usual sort."
"That tells me nothing."
"It tells you that I was a perfectly ordinary cub."
Dginnie looked at him.
"Somehow, I doubt that."
His ears twitched.
"You'll hear stories."
"Good."
"Not all of them are suitable for public discussion."
"Excellent."
Kael sighed.
"I've made a terrible mistake bringing you here."
She smiled at the window.
"Too late."
When they arrived, Dginnie had just enough time to admire the snow-covered buildings before the door opened and a woman came out to meet them.
Kael's mother.
Dginnie had been prepared to bow, shake hands, or perform some other formal greeting. She had rehearsed several possibilities in her head.
She had not prepared for Kael's mother to walk straight up to her, take both her hands, and smile as though Dginnie had been expected for years.
"So you're Dginnie!"
"Yes. It's lovely to meet you."
"Oh, look at you. You're freezing. Come inside before you turn into an icicle."
Dginnie blinked.
Kael's mother turned to her son.
"Why are you standing there? Bring the bags in."
"I was going to."
"Jump to it, cub."
Kael obeyed with a series of little jump.
Dginnie stared after him, trying not to laugh.
His mother took her arm.
"Come along, dear. I've put the kettle on. You must be tired from the journey."
The warmth inside the house wrapped around Dginnie almost immediately. There was a fire burning in the main room, and the smell of cooking drifted from the kitchen. Coats and scarves hung near the entrance. A cluster of cubs peered around the corner, whispering to one another.
Dginnie felt their eyes on her.
She smiled at them.
They vanished.
Kael's mother laughed.
"They've been waiting to meet you."
"Have they?"
"Of course. Kael has been talking about you."
Dginnie looked towards him.
Kael had just entered with the luggage. He stopped dead.
"Mother."
"What? You have."
"Not that much."
"Only every two sentences."
Dginnie felt her cheeks warm.
Kael's mother patted her hand.
"Don't worry. We won't embarrass him too much."
"Mother."
"Unless he deserves it."
Dginnie decided that she liked her already.
Introductions followed, though not in the intimidating parade she had imagined. People came and went, offering greetings, asking whether she had eaten, and making sure she had a warm place to sit. Snowfall arrived with his family, followed by Softfur and hers. The cubs were introduced by name, though Dginnie quickly discovered that remembering which child belonged to which parent was more difficult than remembering the adults.
She tried her best.
When she forgot one name, the child corrected her cheerfully and immediately asked whether she wanted to see something outside.
Before she could answer, another cub tugged at her sleeve.
Then another.
Kael rescued her by announcing that they would all have plenty of time to play later.
The cubs protested.
He ignored them.
Dginnie looked at him gratefully.
He leaned close enough that only she could hear.
"Still breathing?"
"Just."
"Good. I'll try not to let them eat you."
She whispered back, "I thought you said they liked me."
"They do. That's why they're interested."
"That explanation is not reassuring."
He smiled.
Then Snowfall approached, carrying a tray of food.
"You're Dginnie, then."
"I am."
"I'm Snowfall. The older brother."
"I've heard about you."
"Good things, I hope."
"Mostly."
Snowfall laughed.
"Excellent. My brother is capable of telling stories about himself, but he's much less reliable when the stories make him look foolish."
Kael groaned.
"Can we not begin this immediately?"
"No," Snowfall said cheerfully. "We've been waiting for this."
Softfur joined them, her expression bright with curiosity.
"We're delighted you've come. Kael has been unbearable."
"Softfur."
"Unbearable," she repeated. "He keeps pretending he's perfectly calm, but every time someone asks about you, he starts talking faster. And once he starts, he doesn't stop."
Dginnie glanced at Kael.
His ears were flattened.
She tried to suppress a smile.
She failed.
Softfur noticed.
"Oh, good. You can laugh at him. That will make family life much easier."
Kael looked betrayed.
Dginnie decided that she liked Softfur, too.
The afternoon unfolded in a way she had not expected.
She had imagined a formal gathering in which everyone watched her closely, evaluating her manners, her knowledge of customs, and her suitability for their beloved family member.
Instead, she found herself sitting by the fire while relatives discussed work, weather, travel, and the state of the roads. Someone asked about her studies, and she explained her degree. Another wanted to know what she hoped to do afterwards. A third began talking about a cousin who had recently started a business and needed advice about managing finances.
Soon, Dginnie was discussing bookkeeping with an aunt she had met less than twenty minutes earlier.
Nobody seemed to mind that she was not an expert on snow leopard customs.
Nobody expected her to know every family story.
When she asked a question, people answered it. When she did not understand a joke, someone explained it. When several conversations overlapped and she lost track of what was happening, Kael quietly summarised the important parts for her.
He did not hover over her or insist on answering every question. He simply remained nearby, making sure she had someone to turn to when she needed him.
She began to relax.
At some point, the cubs returned.
This time, they came armed with snowballs.
Dginnie looked at them.
They looked at her.
Kael, sitting beside her, slowly lowered his cup.
"No."
The oldest cub threw the first snowball.
It struck Dginnie squarely in the shoulder.
There was a moment of silence.
Then Dginnie looked at the cub.
The cub looked delighted.
Kael sighed.
"I did warn you."
Dginnie stood up.
"Where is the snow?"
The cubs scattered, shrieking with laughter.
Kael watched Dginnie gather snow into her hands.
"You do realise they have been planning this for hours."
"Then they have had plenty of time to prepare for the consequences."
She threw.
Her snowball hit the youngest cub's back.
The child squealed with delight and launched another.
Within minutes, the gathering had spilled outside.
Dginnie discovered that snowball fights with snow leopards were an unfair contest. They were faster than she was, better at moving through deep snow, and remarkably good at appearing where she least expected them.
They also seemed to believe that fair play was a flexible concept.
One cub hid behind a snowbank and threw a snowball at her from close range. Another dropped a handful of snow down the back of her shirt. A third attempted to bury her boots.
Dginnie retaliated with enthusiasm.
Kael helped her when she was hopelessly outnumbered, blocking incoming snowballs with his arms and occasionally catching a cub before the child could escape.
"You are supposed to be on my side!" she protested when he laughed at her latest defeat.
"I am on your side."
"Then why are you laughing?"
"Because you are enjoying yourself."
She opened her mouth to deny it.
A snowball struck her in the face.
Kael laughed harder.
Dginnie scooped up snow.
"Run."
He raised his eyebrows.
"Are you threatening me?"
"Yes."
His smile widened.
Then he turned and bounded away.
Dginnie chased him for several steps before realising that she had no chance of catching him.
He looked back at her.
She looked at him.
Then she threw her snowball with all her strength.
It struck him in the back.
Kael stopped.
Slowly, he turned.
Dginnie burst out laughing.
He looked at the snow on his coat, then at her.
"Well."
She backed away.
"Kael."
"You have made an interesting decision."
"Kael, darling."
His ears rose.
She took advantage of the moment to run.
He caught her easily.
The rest of the family watched from the doorway, laughing as he lifted her off her feet and carried her back towards the house.
"Traitor!" she shouted from where she partially dangled over his shoulder, hammering his back with her fists. Thankfully he had made sure she wouldn't be too uncomfortable and soon switched her to a more comfortable position while he helped her shake and scoop snow out from the inside of her clothes.
She shivered.
"My mate is a very dangerous woman," he informed the cubs.
They cheered.
By the time they returned indoors, Dginnie's cheeks were red from the cold and her hair was full of snow. She was also laughing so hard that she could barely speak. She was also shivering from the cold and wet.
Kael helped brush the snow from her clothes.
His mother handed her a warm drink.
"Well," she said, "I think you've passed the first test."
Dginnie stared at her.
"Test?"
His mother smiled.
"The most important one. Drink up and hurry to change into dry clothes."
Dginnie looked towards Kael.
He was trying not to laugh again.
She narrowed her eyes.
"I have a feeling," she said, "that you are all going to be very difficult to live with."
Snowfall raised his cup.
"Welcome to the family."
And somehow, to Dginnie's astonishment, she found herself believing that he meant it.
-----------------------------------
Chapter 34: The Family Recipe
By the following morning, Dginnie had learned three important things about Kael's family.
First, they were generous.
Second, they were curious.
Third, their definition of a harmless family prank was alarmingly broad.
She discovered the third fact when she stepped outside to admire the snow-covered trees and was promptly struck by a snowball from behind a nearby shrub.
Dginnie turned.
A small snow leopard cub stared back at her with wide, innocent eyes.
"Good morning," the cub said.
Dginnie looked at the snowball lying at her feet.
"Good morning."
"Are you going to play?"
"Perhaps."
The cub's ears perked up.
Dginnie bent down, gathered a handful of snow, and began packing it into a ball.
The cub's expression changed.
"Oh."
"Yes," Dginnie said pleasantly. "Oh."
The child fled.
Dginnie threw the snowball after them, missed by a considerable margin, and heard delighted laughter from behind the trees.
She brushed her hands together.
Pity.
Still, she decided to award herself one participating point for trying to retaliate.
So, one to her.
Several dozen to the cubs.
When she returned indoors, Kael was waiting for her near the entrance.
His gaze travelled from her wind-reddened cheeks to the snow clinging to her sleeves.
"Did you have a pleasant walk?"
"Very."
"Did you meet anyone?"
"One of your little relatives."
"Which one?"
"I don't know. Small. Fluffy. Fast."
Kael nodded solemnly.
"That describes most of the family."
"He threw snow at me."
"Then you have been properly welcomed."
Dginnie stared at him.
"Is that really a custom?"
"No. But it might become one."
She swatted his arm.
He laughed and took her coat, helping her brush off the remaining snow before leading her towards the kitchen.
The house was already busy. Someone was chopping vegetables, someone else was preparing meat, and several relatives were debating the correct way to season a particular dish.
Dginnie paused in the doorway.
The scene reminded her of a large family gathering from a world she had left behind, except that there were tails curling around chair legs, ears twitching in response to conversations across the room, and a truly astonishing amount of food.
Kael's mother noticed her.
"Dginnie! Come in. We're preparing the barbecue."
"Can I help?"
"Of course. Would you like to prepare the vegetables, or would you rather help with the seasoning?"
"The seasoning, if that's all right."
His mother smiled.
"Excellent. I was hoping you'd say that. Kael tells us you have a favourite barbecue seasoning."
Dginnie looked at him.
"You told them?"
"I mentioned it."
"How much did you mention?"
"Enough for Mother to become interested."
Kael's mother gave him an affectionate shove.
"Go and fetch the other ingredients. Stop hovering."
"I wasn't hovering."
"You were standing in the doorway looking pleased with yourself."
"That is a perfectly legitimate activity."
"Not in my kitchen."
Kael obediently left.
Dginnie hid a smile.
His mother brought out several bowls and jars, then cleared a space on the counter.
"Show me what you use."
Dginnie explained her favourite combination and how she adjusted the proportions depending on what she was cooking. She had brought some of her own seasoning with her, partly because she liked it and partly because it had seemed like a useful gift for a family barbecue.
She had not expected to become the centre of a culinary investigation.
Several relatives gathered to watch.
One asked about the balance of spices. Another wanted to know whether it would work with different meats. Someone else suggested adding a local ingredient, and Dginnie tried a small amount in a separate bowl.
The result was excellent.
The family reacted with such enthusiasm that Dginnie found herself smiling despite her embarrassment.
They did not simply praise her to be polite. They wanted the recipe. They asked questions. They suggested variations and began debating which combination would suit different dishes.
Dginnie had brought enough seasoning for several meals.
By the time the debate ended, she had been persuaded to write down her recipe, demonstrate how she prepared it, and promise to bring something new again the next time she visited.
She looked at Kael across the counter.
He was watching her with a quiet, pleased expression.
"What?" she asked.
"Nothing."
"You're doing that thing again."
"What thing?"
"Looking at me as though you've won something."
He came closer.
"I have."
She blinked.
"What?"
"You came here frightened that my family wouldn't like you. Now they're arguing over how to steal your barbecue recipe."
"They are not stealing it!"
"They're very enthusiastic about acquiring it."
"That's different."
"Of course."
He kissed her cheek before she could object.
His mother glanced over.
"Kael, if you're going to distract her, at least make yourself useful."
"I was offering moral support."
"You can offer it while chopping those vegetables."
He accepted the knife.
Dginnie turned away before anyone could see her smile.
The barbecue began late in the morning and continued into the afternoon.
Food was passed around. Stories were told. Someone complained about a neighbour's hunting habits, and someone else defended the neighbour with such passion that the discussion became a full debate about territorial etiquette.
Dginnie listened, asked questions, and occasionally found herself explaining something about her studies.
She discovered that Kael's relatives were not all interested in the same things. Some wanted to hear about her degree. Others were more interested in the city. One aunt asked about her favourite books. A cousin wanted to know whether she had ever tried a particular outdoor sport.
Nobody demanded that she entertain them all.
Nobody insisted that she prove her worth.
When she became tired, she was invited to sit by the fire. When she wanted company, someone joined her. When she needed a moment alone, nobody took offence when she stepped away.
It was the sort of consideration she had not realised she was craving until she experienced it.
At one point, Kael found her sitting on a bench outside, watching the snow drift between the trees.
He sat beside her.
"Are you all right?"
"Yes."
He waited.
She glanced at him.
"I'm really enjoying myself."
His smile was gentle.
"I'm glad."
"I thought I would spend the whole weekend being watched."
"You are being watched."
She turned to him in alarm.
Kael's expression remained perfectly straight for half a second.
Then he nodded towards the window, where three cubs had their faces pressed against the glass.
"They're trying to work out whether you're going to come back inside so they can prepare to challenge you to another snowball fight."
Dginnie covered her face.
"Your family is terrible."
"They're fond of you."
"Those two things are not mutually exclusive, are they?"
"Not in my family."
She laughed.
Kael slipped an arm around her shoulders.
"You don't have to keep up with everyone. If you need a break, take one."
"I know."
"And you don't have to make them like you by being useful."
She looked at him.
He continued quietly.
"They like you because you're you. The seasoning is merely a bonus."
Dginnie rested her head against his shoulder.
"I brought it because I wanted to give them something."
"And you did."
"I wanted them to know that I appreciate being invited."
"I think they know."
She watched the snow for a while.
Then she said, "Your family is very good at noticing when someone needs something."
Kael was quiet for a moment.
"We try."
"I like that."
His tail curled around her ankle.
"I'm glad."
She leaned against him a little more.
Then a snowball struck the back of Kael's head.
Dginnie sat up.
Kael went still.
Slowly, he turned towards the window.
Four cubs ducked out of sight.
Dginnie stared at him.
He stared at the window.
Then he looked at her.
"Would you like to help me teach them about consequences?"
Her smile spread.
"Very much."
They did not catch all four cubs.
They did, however, catch two, and the resulting chase ended with Dginnie sliding down a snowbank, Kael sprawled beside her, and both of them laughing too hard to stand.
Later, while the family gathered indoors, Dginnie was given a particularly spicy dish to try.
She took one bite.
Her eyes widened.
Her mouth opened.
No sound emerged.
Kael noticed first.
"Dginnie?"
She grabbed a handful of snow from the bowl someone had brought inside for the children and shoved it into her mouth.
The room erupted.
Kael was laughing so hard that he had to turn away.
Dginnie glared at him over the snow.
"You knew!"
"I didn't!"
"You knew it was spicy!"
"I knew it was a little spicy."
"A little?"
His mother patted Dginnie's back while laughing.
"You're supposed to eat it with the other food, dear!"
Dginnie swallowed carefully, reached for her drink, and finally managed to speak.
"I would like everyone to know that this is a declaration of war."
The cubs cheered.
Kael's father leaned towards her.
"Welcome to the family, Snowpad's mate."
She looked at him.
He smiled.
"Snowpad?" she pointed at Kael and everyone nodded.
She forgot to be annoyed.
For a moment, she was simply happy to be there.
--------------------------------
Chapter 35: The Trouble with Snowpad
The trouble began with a question Dginnie had been meaning to ask since her first introduction to Kael's siblings.
She had waited until after lunch, when the family was gathered indoors and the cubs were occupied with a game that involved stacking wooden blocks into a tower taller than themselves.
Snowfall was sitting near the fire. Softfur had settled on the floor with her youngest child in her lap. Kael was beside Dginnie, looking rather pleased with the world.
Dginnie glanced between the siblings.
"Can I ask something?"
"Of course," Snowfall said.
"Why are your names Snowfall and Softfur, but Kael is called Kael?"
Silence.
It was not a particularly long silence, but it was long enough for Dginnie to notice that Snowfall had frozen and was glancing repeatedly at Kael.
Softfur looked at her brother.
Kael stared into the fire looking gloomier and gloomier.
Dginnie blinked.
"Was that a rude question?"
"No," Softfur said quickly.
"Not at all," Snowfall added, looking increasingly delighted at where this conversation was going.
Kael's ears flattened.
"Can we talk about something else?"
Dginnie turned towards him.
"Why?"
"Because."
"Because why?"
"Because I have a perfectly respectable name."
"Nobody said you didn't."
"You were asking why it isn't like theirs."
"Yes."
Kael looked at his siblings.
They were both grinning.
Dginnie looked back at him.
"Now I really want to know."
Snowfall leaned forward.
"Did he tell you about the vegetable?"
Kael made a strangled noise.
Dginnie stared at Snowfall.
"What vegetable?"
"No," Kael said immediately.
Softfur covered her mouth.
Snowfall continued, "It was a gift from a herbivore friend of the family."
"Snowfall."
"A lovely bunch of kale, if I remember correctly."
Dginnie looked from one sibling to the other.
"Kale?"
Kael covered his face with both hands.
Softfur was shaking with suppressed laughter.
"His name was supposed to be Snowpad," she explained. "But there was a misunderstanding during the birth registration."
"What sort of misunderstanding?"
"A herbivore nurse heard something incorrectly. The kale was involved. Somehow, by the time the registration was completed, his name had become Kael."
Dginnie stared at him.
Then she began to laugh.
Kael lowered his hands.
"Dginnie."
She laughed harder.
"Dginnie."
"I'm sorry!"
"You are not."
"No, I'm not."
Snowfall was laughing now, too.
Softfur leaned against her brother, nearly helpless with amusement.
Dginnie wiped her eyes.
"So your family calls you Snowpad, but everyone else calls you Kael because of a misunderstanding involving kale?"
Kael looked deeply aggrieved.
"When you say it like that, it sounds ridiculous."
"It is ridiculous."
"It was a perfectly unfortunate administrative error."
"An unfortunate administrative error involving a vegetable."
"Yes."
She pressed her lips together, trying to contain another laugh.
Kael watched her with the expression of a man reconsidering every decision that had led him to this moment.
Dginnie leaned against his shoulder.
"I think it's adorable."
His ears rose slightly.
"Do you?"
"Yes."
She looked at him, smiling.
"Snowpad."
Something in his expression changed.
It was subtle at first. His ears tilted forward, and the tension in his shoulders eased. He looked at her as though she had offered him something far more valuable than a nickname.
"Snowpad," she repeated softly.
Kael swallowed.
His tail curled around her waist.
"You're allowed to call me that," he said.
"Mhm."
"Even when we're not with my family."
"Mhm."
He looked down at her.
She smiled up at him.
"I think it should be our name for you. Something special between those who love you."
For a moment, he said nothing.
Then he bent and pressed his forehead against hers.
"Thank you."
Dginnie had expected him to be embarrassed or amused. She had not expected the depth of feeling in his voice.
She slipped her hand into his.
"You're welcome, Snowpad."
His eyes shone.
He looked away quickly, but not before she saw it.
Her heart squeezed.
She kissed his cheek.
Across the room, Softfur made a small, delighted sound.
Kael turned his head.
"Don't."
"I didn't say anything."
"You were about to."
"I was about to say that you look very happy."
"That is an observation, not a comment."
"It can be both."
Snowfall leaned back in his chair.
"Well, now that we have established that Kael is a vegetable—"
"I am not a vegetable!"
"—perhaps we should find a suitable nickname for Dginnie."
Dginnie sat up.
"Oh, no."
Kael's expression brightened.
"Yes."
"No, absolutely not."
"Why not?"
"Because you are all going to make it unbearable."
Snowfall rubbed his hands together.
"Let us begin."
What followed was an astonishing demonstration of how many ways a family could invent a nickname and make it sound worse with each attempt.
Some were too long.
Some were too short.
One involved a snowbank.
Another involved a type of fish.
And yet another was apparently an affectionate term in a dialect Dginnie did not understand, but the reaction of the adults suggested she was better off remaining ignorant.
Kael contributed several suggestions.
His family groaned at every one.
Dginnie began to suspect that they were deliberately encouraging him to continue.
"Perhaps something related to your eyes," Kael suggested.
"Why my eyes?"
"Because I like them."
She softened.
"That's sweet."
He looked encouraged.
"Or perhaps something about how you always ask questions."
"That sounds less sweet."
"Curiosity is an admirable quality."
"It is. But I don't want to be called Question."
Snowfall made a thoughtful noise.
"Question would be a good name for a cub."
Dginnie pointed at him.
"Do not encourage him."
Kael tried again.
"Something about your determination?"
"Determination is good."
"Your stubbornness?"
"Less good."
"Your ability to survive our family?"
Dginnie stared at him.
"That is not a nickname. That is a medical diagnosis."
Softfur burst out laughing.
Kael looked wounded.
"I'm trying."
"I know," Dginnie said, taking his hand. "I appreciate it."
He looked at their joined hands.
"But none of them feel right."
The quiet sadness in his voice surprised her.
She squeezed his fingers.
"You don't have to find one immediately."
"I know."
"Then why do you look as though I've rejected you?"
"Because I want something that feels like ours. Something that suits you, and that I can say without thinking of anyone else. Something that makes you smile because you know what I mean when I call you that."
Dginnie gazed at him.
She understood then.
He wasn't simply trying to find a cute name. He wanted to give her something personal, something that belonged to the two of them and nobody else.
She rested her head on his shoulder.
"Then take your time."
Kael kissed the top of her head.
"I will."
His father chose that moment to enter.
He took one look at Kael's expression, listened to the ongoing debate, and stopped.
"What is happening?"
"Kael is trying to find a nickname for Dginnie," Snowfall explained.
His father stared at his son.
Then he stared at the family.
Then he walked over and bowled Kael straight off the seat.
Kael landed on the floor with an indignant yelp.
"Father!"
"Enough!"
Dginnie jumped up in shock, but then immediately started laughing.
His father pointed at Kael.
"You are a grown man. If you want a special name for your mate, work it out with her privately. Stop making the entire family listen to you invent nonsense."
"I was trying to be thoughtful!"
"Then be thoughtful quietly!"
Snowfall had collapsed against the arm of his chair.
Softfur was laughing so hard that she had to put her child down.
Kael sat on the floor, glaring at his father.
His father folded his arms.
"And preferably work it out during a mating session, since apparently that is what you young people like to do these days."
Dginnie made a strangled noise.
Kael looked as though he wished the snow outside would open up and swallow him.
His mother patted Dginnie's shoulder.
"Don't worry, dear. If he becomes too much trouble, tell us. We'll help you hold him down."
Dginnie stared at her.
"Hold him down?"
"Of course. Two uncles can usually manage it, and his father is very good at catching him when he tries to run away."
Kael got to his feet.
"I am standing right here."
"We know," his mother said.
Dginnie laughed until her cheeks hurt.
Kael looked at her, and despite his embarrassment, his expression softened.
"You're enjoying this."
"Very much."
He held out his hand.
"Come on. Before they find another reason to humiliate me."
Dginnie took it.
Unfortunately, the cubs had noticed the commotion.
They had also noticed that Dginnie was laughing.
To a snow leopard cub, this was an invitation.
One of them darted forward and tugged at her hand.
"Come play!"
"What game?"
The cub pointed at a pile of cushions and blankets near the wall.
"Hide!"
Dginnie looked at the pile.
Then she looked at the cub.
"That doesn't look like a hiding place."
"It is if you hide underneath!"
Before she could respond, several cubs rushed at her.
Dginnie squealed as they pulled her down onto the cushions. She tried to escape, but a small snow leopard rolled over her legs while another buried her arm beneath a blanket.
"This is not hiding!" she protested.
"It's a game!"
"I can see that!"
More cubs piled on.
Dginnie disappeared beneath a mound of small, warm bodies.
Kael stared.
Then he began to laugh.
"Snowpad!" Dginnie's voice emerged from somewhere beneath the pile. "Help!"
He crouched beside the heap.
"Are you asking for rescue?"
"Yes!"
"Are you sure? You seem very comfortable."
"I am being crushed by your relatives!"
"They're very affectionate."
"SNOWPAD!"
He was still laughing when he began lifting cubs off her.
Unfortunately, the cubs interpreted this as a new game.
They scrambled back onto the pile, determined to see who could reach the bottom first.
Dginnie managed to free one arm, then the other.
A teenage cousin arrived, surveyed the scene, and decided that the pile was insufficiently stable.
He lay down across the top.
The entire structure collapsed.
Dginnie shrieked.
The cubs shrieked.
The teenager began tickling anyone he could reach.
Within moments, the room was filled with helpless laughter, indignant protests, and repeated demands for someone to stop.
Nobody stopped.
Dginnie was laughing so hard that she could barely breathe. Her throat became dry, and she began coughing.
Kael intervened at last, lifting the teenager off the pile and hauling Dginnie free.
She clung to him, coughing and laughing at the same time.
"Your family," she gasped, "is completely insane. Sitting on people seems to run in the family."
Kael held her close.
"Yes."
"You admit it?"
"Without hesitation."
She looked up at him.
His eyes were bright with laughter, but his hands were gentle as he brushed the hair from her face.
"Are you all right?"
She nodded, still breathless.
"Yes."
"Do you need water?"
"Yes."
He fetched it, waited until she had recovered, and then helped her settle beside him.
The family gradually returned to its ordinary activities, although several cubs continued to eye Dginnie with the eager expression of children who had discovered a new favourite playmate.
Kael slipped his arm around her shoulders.
"Still glad you came?"
Dginnie looked around the room.
Snowfall was telling a story. Softfur was trying to persuade one of her children to stop climbing the furniture. His mother was preparing something in the kitchen. His father was arguing with an uncle about a hunting expedition.
The house was warm.
The people were loud.
And nobody seemed to mind that Dginnie was different.
She leaned against Kael.
"Yes."
He kissed her forehead.
"Good."
After a while, he helped her put on her coat.
"Where are we going?" she asked.
"Somewhere quieter."
She glanced back at the family.
"That sounds wonderful."
Kael smiled.
"Come on, Dginnie."
She took his hand.
"All right, Snowpad."
---------------------------------
Chapter 36: A Story Written in the Stars
Outside, the snow had stopped falling.
The world was quiet beneath the night sky. Snow covered the ground in a soft, unbroken blanket, and the trees stood dark against the pale slopes beyond the settlement. Light spilled from the windows of the family home behind them, but farther away, the landscape was untouched by artificial illumination.
Kael led Dginnie towards the edge of the settlement.
"Where are we going?"
"Somewhere I used to visit when I was a cub."
"Is it far?"
"Not far."
"Will there be more snowballs?"
"Not unless you throw them."
She gave him a suspicious look.
"That sounds like a trap."
"Would I do that to you?"
"Yes."
"I shall have to work harder on my reputation."
He stopped beside a broad, snow-covered rise and looked down at her.
"Would you like to ride?"
Dginnie brightened.
"Your full form?"
"Unless you would prefer me to carry you in my arms."
She considered this.
"Your full form, please."
Kael smiled.
A moment later, the enormous snow leopard stood before her, his thick coat pale against the snow. His dark markings were beautiful beneath the moonlight, and his eyes caught the faint light with an almost otherworldly brightness.
Dginnie approached him and laid a hand against his shoulder.
"Hello, Snowpad."
His ears lifted.
She was beginning to understand that the name pleased him even more when she used it in this form.
He lowered himself so she could climb onto his back.
She settled between his shoulders, holding onto his thick fur as he rose. His body was warm beneath her hands, and the movement of his muscles was surprisingly smooth as he began to walk.
The settlement lights gradually disappeared behind them.
Dginnie had been looking at the ground, enjoying the steady motion, when she lifted her head.
And forgot to breathe.
The sky was immense.
Stars filled it from horizon to horizon, so numerous that the darkness between them seemed almost luminous. Some shone in brilliant clusters. Others were faint and distant, forming patterns she could not recognise.
She turned slowly, trying to take everything in.
Then she saw the moons.
There were two.
One was large and bright, its surface marked by pale and dark regions. The other was smaller, farther away, and had a tiny companion moving around it.
Dginnie stared.
She had seen pictures of strange planets and imagined what it might be like to stand beneath unfamiliar stars. But pictures had never conveyed the scale of the sky, the silence of the landscape, or the strange feeling of seeing something beautiful that proved, beyond argument, that she was no longer on Earth.
The stars were wrong.
Not wrong in the sense of being unfamiliar constellations that she had never learned. Their positions, their arrangements, the shapes they formed were unlike anything she remembered from either hemisphere of Earth.
She was somewhere else.
Truly, irreversibly elsewhere.
Kael stopped walking.
He glanced back at her.
"Dginnie?"
She looked down at him.
For a moment, she could not speak.
Then she said, "There are two moons."
"Yes. You never noticed before?"
"No. I never looked up. I was too busy. One has another moon."
"Yes."
She looked back at the sky.
"I've never seen anything like this."
Kael's ears tilted slightly.
"Truly?"
"Truly."
He seemed to consider her answer, but did not press her.
Instead, he moved towards a sheltered hollow where the wind was weaker and the snow lay smooth beneath the trees. He settled down, allowing her to climb off his back, then shifted into his human form, putting his clothes back on without a shiver from the cold.
He had brought a thick blanket, which he spread over a fallen log before sitting beside her.
Dginnie tucked herself against his side.
They watched the stars for a while.
Eventually, Kael pointed towards a cluster of them.
"Do you see that shape?"
Dginnie followed his finger.
"I think so."
"It is the lion."
She squinted.
"And that?"
"The serpent."
She tilted her head.
The arrangement was difficult to interpret at first. The stars did not form the neat, familiar outlines of drawings on a page. Instead, they seemed to suggest figures moving through the darkness, their shapes emerging from the relationships between points of light.
Kael began to tell her the story.
"Long ago, the lion loved a bride whom he saw from afar. He travelled far to bring her home, but a serpent blocked his path."
Dginnie listened.
"The serpent was not the strongest creature in the world, nor the wisest. But it was cunning, and it knew how to make others afraid. It tricked the bride into believing that there was no way forward, that every path would lead to disaster. That going with the lion would be a mistake. And when she almost realised she had been tricked, it hid her away."
"What did the lion do?"
"He fought for his beloved. He gave everything he had, and in the end, he sacrificed himself so that she could escape."
Dginnie looked at the stars.
"And he died?"
"Yes."
Kael's voice was quiet.
"The lion's death is shown in the stars during a particular season. The constellations shift as the planet moves around its sun, and for a time, the lion appears broken apart."
She followed the pattern he indicated.
Once he explained it, she could see the suggestion of the lion's shape.
"What happened to his bride?"
"She returned home, but she mourned him. The story says that she never stopped hoping and praying for his return."
Dginnie rested her head against Kael's shoulder.
"That is sad."
"It is."
He pointed towards a faint streak of stars that crossed the sky.
"But the story does not end there."
Dginnie lifted her head.
"Once every hundred years, a bright comet appears. It passes through the heavens, symbolising a miracle and brings the lion back to life."
She looked towards the streak of stars.
"Those stars are the comet?"
"That is where it appears in the story. The actual comet is visible only when it comes around at a certain time that coincides with the death of the lion in the story."
"And then?"
"The lion rises again. He finds the serpent and steps upon it, sending it into another region of the sky, where it is imprisoned. Then he returns to his bride and brings her home."
Dginnie smiled.
"And they live happily ever after?"
"Yes."
"That's lovely."
Kael looked up at the sky.
"The end of the story is shown by the colours that spread across the heavens. Celebratory streamers, the elders call them. We see them as a kind of aurora, though the story says they are the joy of the lion and his bride made visible."
Dginnie imagined coloured bands of an aurora that seemed to shimmer faintly across the darkness. She had lived in this world for so many years but hadn't seen anything as spectacular as an aurora yet. Then again, she had never looked up at the sky. She had been too busy working and studying. Sleeping and surviving.
Maybe she had noticed them before, but had assumed they were clouds catching the moonlight.
"Does the story repeat every year?"
"Yes. The stars remind us of what happened, what our ancestors hoped for, and what we hope for ourselves. Although the comet signifying the miracle only shows up once a century."
She looked at him.
"Do you believe it happened?"
Kael considered the question.
"I believe the story matters. Whether every part happened exactly as it is told is another question."
"That's a very careful answer."
"My family has taught me the value of careful answers."
She laughed softly.
He smiled and continued.
"The serpent isn't meant to represent all snakes or reptiles. It represents the thing that tries to make us believe there is no hope. The enemy that convinces us we cannot win, that nothing we do matters, and that we should give up."
Dginnie gazed at the stars.
"And the lion represents perseverance?"
"Perseverance, sacrifice, and protecting the people we love. But the miracle matters, too. The lion could not bring himself back to life. Something unexpected had to happen."
She was quiet for a while.
Then she said, "So even when everything looks hopeless, something might still change."
"Yes."
"And you aren't supposed to give up before you know how the story ends."
Kael turned towards her.
"That is how I understand it."
She smiled.
"I like that."
He slipped an arm around her.
"Good."
Dginnie looked up again.
The lion's shape was beginning to emerge more clearly to her now that she knew what she was looking for.
She could see where it would lay broken in the cycle from where Kael had pointed, where it rose, and where it stepped upon the serpent.
At this current point in the cycle, the lion had returned.
He was standing over the serpent.
The story was moving towards its happy ending.
Dginnie felt an odd, inexplicable tenderness.
She had spent so much of her time trying to understand the world around her, trying to fill in the missing pieces of her own history, trying to make decisions without knowing all the rules. The university had made her feel that every mistake could be evidence against her. Every question could expose another gap in her knowledge.
But here, beneath an unfamiliar sky, she was allowed to ask questions without being treated as a problem.
She could simply learn.
She looked at Kael.
"Thank you for bringing me here."
He smiled.
"I wanted to show you."
"I know."
She leaned against him.
They remained there for a long time, watching the stars.
Eventually, Dginnie grew sleepy. Kael noticed and drew the blanket more closely around her shoulders.
"Ready to go home?"
She glanced back towards the distant lights.
"Yes."
He shifted again, lowering himself so she could climb onto his back.
This time, she settled against him without hesitation.
As he carried her home, she rested her cheek against his fur and watched the unfamiliar stars pass above them.
She didn't know what the future held.
But for the first time in a long while, she felt that the uncertainty was not entirely frightening.
Some things could be learned.
Some questions could be answered.
And some journeys were better taken with someone beside her.