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A Rescue: Part Final
Part 1
Part 2
"You can move now."
Jeska bolted upright, gasping for air as he pushed down the surge of panic. He'd felt the injuries healing and the perpetual dull aches from old injuries come back, so he knew his new owner had to be near, but that was right in his ear and there was nobody-- oh.
"Easy now, you're okay." The blond halfbreed suddenly appeared next to him, sight, smells and all, and put a hand on his shoulder. It was surprisingly warm and pleasant; Jeska wouldn't have dared pull away from his owner anyway, but he found himself not wanting to, which was... new.
"You hide well, Master," Jeska offered.
The other man made a face, taking his hand off of Jeska's shoulder. "How about just sir? Or you can call me Leo, or Leofric. And I'm sorry for startling you."
"Of course, sir. What, um..." He was distracted from asking what was next as his owner - whatever he was going to call him - started to undress. In the middle of the wilderness, within sight of his pack's camp. Jeska was wondering if maybe he should regret having given a year of his life to this clearly insane Ashaneva. "Sir?"
The blond was muttering a Working over the shirt, then held it out to Jeska. "Try that on; I'll fix it if it's still too short. I didn't think of them taking your things," he added, apologetically.
Jeska was already putting on the shirt - more of a robe, it turned out, reaching halfway down his thighs - and feeling like a puppet on strings. His tail brushed against the back and he tried to curl it under, out of the way. It was almost enough of a distraction that he didn't notice his owner had apologized. Apologized. To him.
Jeska turned and stared in disbelief.
His owner shrugged. "I don't go staging people's deaths every day, you know. I'm not surprised I missed something, but I'm still sorry."
"Why are you apologizing to me? ...sir?" Jeska smoothed out the robe or tunic or whatever it was over his thighs, feeling suddenly nervous. Criticizing the man who owned him - who could very literally do whatever he wanted with him - was incredibly stupid. This whole thing might have been incredibly stupid. What kind of smart person signed himself over to an insane halfbreed to get mauled by a wild animal? Although Jeska had to admit, it had worked. His pack definitely wouldn't be looking for him now.
"Ah." The blond halfbreed smiled, a strange expression that somehow didn't look happy at all. "Let's start with 'because I want to' for now; we can pick it up again someplace safer than within screaming distance of a Nede-- well. Them." He gestured towards the camp, then stood up and held out a hand. "Time to go."
Jeska took the offered hand and scrambled to his feet; once again, he found himself not wanting to break contact, hoping the other man would keep holding his hand.
This time, at least, he did. "It's a bit of a walk, but once we meet up with our ride, we'll be home in minutes."
"Home, sir?"
"Home. Cloverleaf."
Cloverleaf. Jeska knew that name, and his stomach sank.
Part 2
"You can move now."
Jeska bolted upright, gasping for air as he pushed down the surge of panic. He'd felt the injuries healing and the perpetual dull aches from old injuries come back, so he knew his new owner had to be near, but that was right in his ear and there was nobody-- oh.
"Easy now, you're okay." The blond halfbreed suddenly appeared next to him, sight, smells and all, and put a hand on his shoulder. It was surprisingly warm and pleasant; Jeska wouldn't have dared pull away from his owner anyway, but he found himself not wanting to, which was... new.
"You hide well, Master," Jeska offered.
The other man made a face, taking his hand off of Jeska's shoulder. "How about just sir? Or you can call me Leo, or Leofric. And I'm sorry for startling you."
"Of course, sir. What, um..." He was distracted from asking what was next as his owner - whatever he was going to call him - started to undress. In the middle of the wilderness, within sight of his pack's camp. Jeska was wondering if maybe he should regret having given a year of his life to this clearly insane Ashaneva. "Sir?"
The blond was muttering a Working over the shirt, then held it out to Jeska. "Try that on; I'll fix it if it's still too short. I didn't think of them taking your things," he added, apologetically.
Jeska was already putting on the shirt - more of a robe, it turned out, reaching halfway down his thighs - and feeling like a puppet on strings. His tail brushed against the back and he tried to curl it under, out of the way. It was almost enough of a distraction that he didn't notice his owner had apologized. Apologized. To him.
Jeska turned and stared in disbelief.
His owner shrugged. "I don't go staging people's deaths every day, you know. I'm not surprised I missed something, but I'm still sorry."
"Why are you apologizing to me? ...sir?" Jeska smoothed out the robe or tunic or whatever it was over his thighs, feeling suddenly nervous. Criticizing the man who owned him - who could very literally do whatever he wanted with him - was incredibly stupid. This whole thing might have been incredibly stupid. What kind of smart person signed himself over to an insane halfbreed to get mauled by a wild animal? Although Jeska had to admit, it had worked. His pack definitely wouldn't be looking for him now.
"Ah." The blond halfbreed smiled, a strange expression that somehow didn't look happy at all. "Let's start with 'because I want to' for now; we can pick it up again someplace safer than within screaming distance of a Nede-- well. Them." He gestured towards the camp, then stood up and held out a hand. "Time to go."
Jeska took the offered hand and scrambled to his feet; once again, he found himself not wanting to break contact, hoping the other man would keep holding his hand.
This time, at least, he did. "It's a bit of a walk, but once we meet up with our ride, we'll be home in minutes."
"Home, sir?"
"Home. Cloverleaf."
Cloverleaf. Jeska knew that name, and his stomach sank.