Sleeping on the floor of my pango was nothing new to me. I liked sleeping, being kwa myself. After all, I had nothing better to do, so what else was I going to do besides sleep? I’d made my pango thicker so that no light could enter, otherwise I wouldn’t be able to sleep, and the light would sting my eyes a bit.

“Can I come in?” Sanae asked at the entrance of my den, into the darkness of it that housed me.

“You don’t have to ask, Sanae,” I told her. Her politeness wasn’t getting on my nerves, but rather that she was doing thing she didn’t need to; unnecessary work.

“I… yes, Noctus,” she replied, and entered the den. When she entered, I turned to face her. I could just imagine those two light blue orbs of light staring at her from a near-pure darkness.

“So, Sanae, not that I don’t like your company, but why are wewe here?” I asked her.

“You… just seemed lonely,” she replied.

Honestly, I had me, and my thoughts. It may not be the best company a Lynx can ask for, but it’s sure better than being truly alone, like Tenemae.

“So wewe came here, to see me, just because wewe thought I was lonely?” I questioned.

“Is there anything wrong with what I’m doing?”

“No, no, there isn’t. It’s perfectly fine. The problem is that… with what Menae did recently…”

“She is not here, I can promise wewe that. I am Sanae, your mate, and nothing will separate us,” she promised. This made me smile. I can’t say, because I don’t know why, but a smile did grow on my face for some reason.

“I hope you’re right about that…” I muttered, but Sanae didn’t catch my mutter. I felt lucky that she hadn’t heard it, and fairly shy about saying that again.

After a couple of moments of silence, Sanae alisema “you can’t be blaming yourself for their death, Noctus.”

“They were dying, and I left them for dead. I could have died with them honorably, but I ran away. The Lynx are gone for good, and no zaidi of the Lynx can be born. I’m my father’s legacy, and look at me now,” I told her. I felt a sort of will to mourn their death through tears, but I held back, and continued with “I failed my father and all of the Lynx, and nothing can change that.”

“So all wewe want to do is cement your father’s legacy through yours?” Sanae asked. There was something in her voice. Hope, maybe.

“Yes, but I also want to carry on what my father did. My father defended his tribe through the forge of weapons. If I have to defend this group, I’ll do so with my blade.”

“So, Noctus, mainly what wewe want… is children?”

“Are- are wewe proposing that we-“

“No!” she shot back assertively. But an expression on her face told me that she was lying: regret.

“Hmm…” I responded lightly. Sanae actually had managed to lie. That’s a first. Another obvious reason that gave away that she had lied was that she gave a brief prayer to the heavens, most probably for forgiveness for her sin, if that was a sin at all.

An awkward silence filled the air of my den. The proposal of a possible sekunde generation remained in our heads. Sheer darkness enshrouded the inside of my den, and only those like I could look into my den, unless wewe reflected light into the den. Yet, nothing happened.

I heard the footsteps of someone coming towards the entrance of my den.

“Keep silent,” I told Sanae as the intruder walked towards the entrance of the den.

“Noctus, is Sanae in here?” asked Gatage.

“No, she’s not. She might be back at her den, praying. If wewe keep looking wewe might find her. Somewhere,” I lied.

“You’re telling me that you, Sanae’s lover, has no idea where Sanae is?”

“I told wewe that she most probably is at her den.”

“Hmm. Sanae, are wewe in here?”

Quickly but silently, I placed a hand on Sanae’s mouth. I knew she would have been compelled to answer. “I already told you, Gatage. She’s not here.”

Gatage gave off a defeated look from what I could tell. The light from the outside that covered Gatage’s face made it hard for me to distinguish what facial expression he had. After he left, I lifted my hand off Sanae’s mouth.

“How can wewe lie to him in that manner?” she alisema in a whisper.

“Do wewe know what Gatage would think if he saw wewe and I, alone, in such a dark place where no one can see what’s going on but me?” I improvised. The truth was, I didn’t want her to leave. I really couldn’t tell why.

Sanae nodded in defeat. “You’re right,” she said. “But when will I be able to leave? How will I know when it’s salama to go?”

“I’ll tell wewe when,” I told her.

I was lying.