Work Text:
Roar
Mist watched her not-calf leave upon her old friend’s, Sun Mane’s, back, following the path to the south of her field. She knew that, should they follow it to the end without taking a side path, it would lead them back to the Taobab Grassland. She didn’t think that was their destination, but she wasn’t sure what else was out there– she hadn’t had a chance to check those side routes when the neighboring pair of lynels were chasing her here.
She wondered if the false-calf had slain those two, or if it had just breezed past them upon the Sun Mane’s broad back. She could picture it well enough in her head– she had first-hand experience when it came to fighting the tiny human, after all. Granted, the skirmish hadn’t lasted long, but it had been enough for her to judge the little one’s skills.
(He, Mist had to remind herself. Sun Mane, now called Phantom, had told her as much.)
The false-calf, smaller than even a yearling lynel, was powerful. There wasn’t a doubt in her mind that he could’ve ended her life and somehow still remained unscathed by her weapons or claws, had their little spat gone differently. He was fast and smooth and forceful, not unlike a mighty river. Her not-calf was so small, though. He had a round, gentle face, and a soft, thick mane that was unusually light, even by his species’ standards. It reminded her of wheat or topaz, and it wasn’t a color she saw often on the many travelers that passed by her territory. Rare as his mane color seemed to be, it wasn’t particularly useful for intimidating his foes. In fact, absolutely nothing about him was remotely intimidating at first glance.
(It was a different story entirely when the human began pulling out weapons and started focusing those intense blue eyes on his opponent, but that was beside the point.)
Mist wanted to remedy this when she saw him again. No calf of hers, false or otherwise, should be anything but intimidating. The easiest, and quickest, way to improve this would be teaching him how to roar, because she doubted that such a small human body could grow as muscular as a lynel’s, and that itself was a huge part of her own intimidation factor. Plus, it would take a while to buff him up so much, and she had a strange feeling that he was on a time limit of some sort, with the way he rushed around.
Soon enough, she supposed. In the meantime...
Mist wondered what name her deadly little human went by. Sun Ma– Phantom– hadn’t told her anything about it. She wasn’t sure if the mare actually knew his name, or if humans even used names. Did he have one? If he did, how different did it sound compared to lynel names? Considering the name he had given Phantom, she guessed that humans had short, single-word names. Were they based on anything in particular, like flowers or fish? Did they have meanings? Or were they just a jumbled mess of sounds?
Regardless, Mist decided that she needed to come up with a name for her not-calf. He was her youngest child, after all, and simply referring to him by “false-calf” and “not-calf” felt wrong, since he was every bit a lynel in all but body. But what to call him? There were many words that could describe her youngest: fierce, silent, deadly, topaz-maned, sapphire-eyed, small, crafty, smooth, fast, and the list just went on.
This decision, Mist realized, would take all day. She hoped she could come up with something by the time he returned, whenever that would be. (Not that he’d be able to understand her, but it was for her own sake.) There were so many directions she could take it...
Swift Viper, or Little Slayer, perhaps? Or should she add a part of her name to his? Silent Dawn? Sapphire Mist? Dawn’s Ferocity?
In the end, it only took a few hours of deliberation. By the time Mist’s not-calf returned, with a determined look in his eyes and no sign of slowing down, she had finally decided on a name: Flowing Wheat, for his smooth movements and mane color.
Mist called out to him with something between a roar and a rumble. He glanced at her and slowed only marginally, but didn’t seem to want to stop. She galloped up to and alongside him, and ignored the brief panic in his eyes as she plucked him off of Phantom’s back like a dandelion from the grass. Phantom slowed and reared a little when his grip left her reins, but turned around with an annoyed huff once she’d eased to a walk. Mist rumbled at her in apology and trotted further into her field, the squirming bundle of Wheat held tightly in her arms.
When she set him down, Flowing Wheat tried to make a break for it, whistling for Phantom with his fingers to his lips. Mist rolled her eyes and used her hook to pull him back. Once he was in range, she pushed him onto his back and lowered herself, pinning his tiny body under one of her knees until he decided to calm down. It took him… much longer than she expected to do so, with the human constantly squirming beneath her. In fact, it wasn’t until she started feeding him apple slices that he finally stopped wiggling around.
He kind of looked like he was pouting. It was precious, and Mist rumbled out a purr before letting him up, hook at the ready to grab him again in case he ran. She wouldn’t let him get out of his lesson that easily.
Thankfully, he stayed put, but his arms were crossed like he was annoyed. Mist gave him the rest of the apple and patted the top of his head, watching as he finished off the sweet fruit. When he was done, she placed her hands on his shoulders to give him a serious look, which wiped the annoyance off his face and replaced it with curiosity. She moved her hands to cover his (probably sensitive) ears and took a deep breath, roaring in his face with all her might. Fear danced across his face and there was a sword in his hand in a flash of light, instinctive, but it disappeared just as quickly when he realized he wasn’t under attack. Mist gave him an expectant look.
Flowing Wheat seemed more confused than anything. Mist huffed and did it again, finishing with a brief upward tilt of her head to silently urge him to take the hint. When he didn’t, she growled a little in frustration and rubbed her face, realizing she needed to try a different tactic.
She inhaled slowly and deeply, puffing up her chest and gesturing for her youngest to copy her. Hesitantly, he did, and she felt a flash of pride before unleashing her roar once again. She looked back at him, offering an encouraging grumble. Flowing Wheat’s chest deflated and his jaw hung open in disbelief when he finally understood what Mist wanted him to do. The human shook his head a bit, face and ears turning red.
Mist purred soothingly to ease his nerves. She wasn’t doing this to embarrass him, but to help him in the quickest way she knew how. She repeated her example a few more times before her youngest finally caved, letting out a pitiful sound.
“Rrrh.”
Mist patted him again and squared her shoulders, going through the motions of a roar without actually letting one out. She thought that, maybe, it could help him improve on that terrible little squeak he’d released. Her roar was quite distracting, after all, so hopefully seeing the motions would help him out.
Flowing Wheat mimicked her movements, breathing in through his nose before releasing something marginally better.
“Rrrah.”
Mist shook her head and made a show of sucking in air through her mouth until she couldn’t hold anymore. She pinched her son’s nose shut so he’d take that deep belly breath, and let go once his chest was puffed up enough.
“Rrraaahhhrrr…?”
Better, but he could still be louder. She could tell he was still embarrassed, courtesy of his red face, but she hoped he’d start to feel a bit better about it soon. He pushed her hand away when she tried to guide his breath, and took a few steps back with a thoughtful look.
Mist tilted her head in curiosity as her son pulled out that rectangular device of his and became engulfed in blue light. When the light faded, she rumbled a bit in confusion at the change in his removable pelt. The blue top-pelt and light tan bottom-pelt he typically wore were replaced by some type of armor made of fur and leather, and a bracer made of bone appeared on his arm. A quick sniff told Mist that the fur on the new pelt was very old and made from the mane of a lynel. Maybe even the leather was, too. If she had to guess, she’d say it was older than herself by centuries. She absently wondered where he found it.
The third piece to her son’s new pelt was that mask that she’d met him in, crude as ever. It seemed to give him a boost in confidence, though, with the way he straightened his shoulders the same way she did. Encouraged, Mist guided his breathing again, letting out a roar of her own at the end of her example. Emboldened and determined, she watched Flowing Wheat breathe deeply through his mouth, before letting out an actual roar:
“RrrrAAAAHHHH!”
Mist was so, so proud of her youngest son. She was sure the purr that rumbled from her throat could be heard for miles, she was so pleased. Cheerful, she trotted around him in a circle and purred even louder when he let out another genuine roar. It wasn’t as loud as one of her own, but she figured it may have something to do with the human’s size and initial reluctance. Maybe humans weren’t made to roar?
Oh well, it didn’t really matter as long as he could do it. Her hearing was good, and if he was close enough, she’d be able to hear it. She hoped he would greet her with it in the future, now that she knew his voice.
But until then, Mist was content to hoist Flowing Wheat up onto her shoulders while she trotted around the field, both of them letting out celebratory roars as they went.