Chapter 229 - The Birth of Death part 4

"Khronos," Ona said.

"Yes, Mother?"

"Your father wishes to see you."

Khronos was outside by the fire pit when his mother came to fetch him. It was where her husband usually retired when he wanted to relax. How often had Minos sat there, talking idly with his brothers as he hardened the tips of his spears in the fire? Ona could not say, but she knew her husband would not be long in the world of the living, and it gave her some comfort to see her son sitting in the place where his father so often sat, staring out across the hilly terrain, lightly dusted with snow this afternoon, the clouds low and gray.

She saw Khronos exchange a solemn glance with his cousin Tulpac, his face tight with dread. Tulpac lowered his eyes and poked at the embers of the fire with a stick. The boy's uncles stirred but did not rise. Minos had asked only for Khronos.

Khronos rose.

In these modern times, at age thirteen, our father would have still been considered a child, but he was a man in that era, one who had already hunted and mated and killed. He was not very tall-- none of the Anaki were very tall compared to modern men--but his body was thick and heavily muscled, like his father, the scars of his manhood rite still fresh and pink in his flesh.

Khronos looked shocked at the sight of his mother, but he concealed his surprise quickly, trying not to hurt her. It didn't bother her, though. She knew how she looked. She had seen her face when she walked down to the creek to refill their water skins. Her face was sallow and lined with sadness, her eyes red and swollen. She had aged visibly since her husband was injured, as if years had passed instead of days. She could feel her grief as if it was a weight pressing down on her. It was exhausting.

"His spirit is departing soon," she said. Her voice hitched as she spoke, and her eyes swam. "You should hurry."

Khronos nodded. He swept past his mother without comforting her, but she did not expect comfort from her son. Comfort was not the Anaki way.

Ona followed her son, head down, trying very hard to stifle her sobs. The boy hurried ahead of her. When she arrived at the hearth she shared with her husband, Khronos was kneeling beside his father, hand on the big man's laboring chest. The medicine woman had been sent away. The shaman, too, though ancient Zambi lingered nearby, watching, waiting, like a hungry old buzzard. Ona lowered to her knees behind the boy, wincing at the pain that flared in her arthritic joints. She kept her head down, hoping her hair would hide her shameful tears.

He is dying, she thought.

It didn't seem possible. It all seemed so dream-like and unreal. Minos had been her mate for more than half her life. He was the only man she had ever coupled with. The father of her children. The leader of their clan. The strongest man that she had ever met.

And he was dying.