Connor and the Wolves - 45. The Violist

Tears streamed from Khurtschono’s eyes. Her wrist was in agony, yet Khurtschono continued dragging her bow across the viola’s strings. Every press of the neck sent searing pain lancing through her arm. She gritted her teeth and played on. The Nicansien filled the air around her as the coppery smell of blood flooded her nose. Miles watched through it all, shaking his head in disappointment.
Her eyes snapped open.
A dark world greeted her, and an alarm blared. Reaching over to grab her phone, she yelped as the phantom pain from her dream became very real.
“Shut up Khurtschono!” Altanchono growled from his bed.
“I’m trying!” Khurtschono snapped back, grabbing her phone.
She shut off the alarm after a few tries. Grabbing her clothes and her sling, she stumbled to the bathroom, and changed quickly. Now that Soren was taking care of the horses in the morning, she didn’t have to worry about smelling like shit every morning, so she just put on the clothes she’d be wearing for the day, before pulling her arm into the sling.
Brushing her teeth was near impossible with one hand. She’d left the paste uncapped, but even just trying to hold the brush still so she could squeeze the paste onto it left her frustrated.
She trudged down to the kitchen. Plopping into a chair, Khurtschono winced, doubling over. Skylar glanced up from the oatmeal on the stove, and shook her head.
“Maybe you should sit like a normal person, instead of throwing yourself around like a mopey cat.”
She fought the urge to bite her thumb. Fuck this. She’d just skip breakfast; she wasn’t hungry anyway.
Standing, the calico made her way back up stairs, thumping the entire way. Her wrist hurt, and now her balls hurt. And there was nothing she could do for either.
Khurtschono pushed the door to the practice room open. Her viola sat on its stand, beside the morin khuur. Sitting in front of it, she leaned forward and let her uninjured hand trace over the loosened strings.
She could tighten them. She could play. She knew she could play. Fuck Arban for stealing her role so readily. And blast her wrist for being so weak. Why the fuck did this have to happen to her? She was a good neko.
“There you are.” She didn’t bother looking back at Khenbish. It was strange for him to be home this early. She didn’t care. “Khurtsaa, I know this is a hard time for you,” Khenbish said quietly as he approached. “You shouldn’t hurt your heart like this. It will only make you sad.”
That was the point. She was sad anyway. Why not be more sad? Focus on her inner hurts instead of the throbbing every time she moved her arm?
“Why don’t you head downstairs?” Khenbish added. “You’ll feel better once you have some food in you.”
Nodding numbly, Khurtschono left the room. Heavy steps took her back to the kitchen, and she frowned at the sight of Soren and Catherine.
“The fuck happened to your hair?” she muttered.
“Language, young neko,” Catherine warned.
“Fine. What the fuck happened to your hair?”
Catherine glowered at her, a look that could curdle milk. Let her glare. Let her fight. Khurtschono was well beyond caring at this point.
“You’re not too old for me to wash your mouth out with soap,” Catherine growled.
Soren just leaned from foot to foot, trying to look anywhere but at the confrontation in front of him.
“Connor made me cut it,” he muttered.
“Connor?” Oh, she was going to fucking lose it. “What do you mean Connor made you cut it? You didn’t fucking tell him, did you?! Gods blast it Soren, what the f-” She grabbed her phone. Fuck this shit, she was just going to tell Connor herself.
“That’s it! Go to your room!” Catherine snapped, grabbing her phone.
“Hey!”
“Hey nothing,” Catherine said. “You can have your phone back when you learn to talk like someone who deserves to have a phone.”
Growling, Khurtschono spun back to the stairs. She froze as Khenbish came down, viola case in hand.
“What are you doing Aav?”
“Hey Soren, do you think you can watch this for a couple of weeks?” Khenbish asked, handing the case to him.
“Don’t you dare!” Khurtschono charged at Soren, only to be grabbed by Khenbish. “Don’t you fucking dare!”
Soren stared between her and the case, eyes wide.
“Please, it’s too painful to have around the house right now,” Khenbish said. “We’ll take it back once Khurtschono’s wrist is better.”
“Give it back!” Khurtschono snapped, lunging against her father’s restraining arms.
“Yeah… uh, I’ll put it somewhere safe,” Soren said, his eyes flicking toward Khurtschono again.
“Thanks,” Khenbish smiled tightly. “Catherine will take you to school today. I think Khurtsaa needs a day off.”
He turned Khurtschono bodily toward the stairs, walking her back up to her room.
“Why? Why would you let him take it?!”
“Because I know you. We’re going to wake up one morning to find you worsened your sprain trying to play it,” Khenbish said. “This is for your own safety.”
“It’s my viola!” Khurtschono protested. “You have no right giving it away!”
“We are not giving it away,” Khenbish said. “I asked a trusted friend to hold onto it until your wrist is feeling better. We can get it back then. I know Soren will put it up somewhere and not touch it. It will be safe with him.”
He gently pushed Khurtschono until she was sitting in her bed.
“You’re not in a good mental place right now. Take a break. Get some more sleep, or play a game if you have to. But try to calm yourself.”
Stepping out of the room, Khenbish closed the door behind him. It flew open a minute later, and a naked Altanchono burst into the room, searching for his clothes.
“It’s not fair that you get to stay home just because you had a fit,” he complained, throwing a shirt aside.
Khurtschono didn’t even have the willpower to roll her eyes at the moment. The little asshole had been whining about wanting to go to school not more than a week ago. And now he wanted to stay home, just because Khurtschono had to.
“Don’t leave the bedroom naked,” she grumbled instead. “Soren’s not interested in you. You can just forget about trying to do… whatever you’re trying to do.”
Altanchono scowled at her, finally yanking his pants on.
“I didn’t even go downstairs,” he growled. “Besides, John does it all the time.”
“John has his head so far inside a book half the time, it’s a wonder he hasn’t walked into the river,” Khurtschono pointed out. “Don’t look to him as a role model.”
She heard a disgusted grunt as John stalked past the room. A sly grin spread across Altanchono’s face, and Khurtschono hurled a pillow at him.
“You dick.” She scowled.
He totally set her up. Well fuck it, it was about time someone got through to John.
“Have fun laying in bed all day- oh wait, you won’t,” Altanchono gloated. “Mama will find something for you to do with the horses.”
Khurtschono waved her bad arm.
“Whatever. She’ll find something,” Altanchono repeated before darting from the room and slamming the door.
Removing her sling, Khurtschono hurled it across the room. She dropped into bed, falling on her uninjured side, and stared at the closet in silent rage. Fuck them all. She didn’t give a fuck if they all wanted to be assholes today. She’d just go back to bed.

“Get up.”
Khurtschono shot up in bed. She winced as her wrist protested the sudden movement, and bit back another curse.
“Aav?” Khenbish stood in the doorway, watching her. “What’s going on?”
“We’re going for a ride,” her father said. “You should wear something nice.”
With that cryptic remark, Khenbish stepped out of the room and closed the door. Groaning, Khurtschono clambered to her feet. Something nice. What was something nice? Temple clothes? Dinner clothes? Why was everyone so insistent on frustrating her today?
Ten minutes later, she stomped from the room, making her displeasure clearly known as she stormed down the stairs. Khenbish stood in a red deel, keys in hand. Khurtschono glanced down at her dress. Close enough — if he wanted more formal, he should have said so. Besides, she liked the contrast of the royal blue with her calico fur.
“Where are we going?” she asked as they climbed into the car.
Khenbish was silent as he pulled out toward the road. He waited until they were well on their way to the city before finally answering.
“You know how your old director — Sarnai, I think? — wanted you to audition for the Khaany Khaalga orchestra last year?”
Khurtschono shivered. No way. She couldn’t go to an audition, not like this!
“I set things up with a flautist I know, and the Riverlands Orchestra is going to let us sit in on a practice today.”
“You… set things up…?” she echoed weakly.
“I helped his son after a wolf bite,” Khenbish brushed off. “He offered free tickets to their next concert, and I convinced him to let us sit in on this practice.”
Fuck, what was she going to do? Her wrist was fucked up; she couldn’t play like this! How could she hope to impress-
“Settle down there,” Khenbish said as Khurtschono’s foot thumped rapidly against the floorboard. “We are just going to watch them practise, and network a bit.”
Her foot settled. Slightly. Khurtschono sat back in her seat, pondering this new situation. Her arm was in a sling. Surely this was going to fuck up any chance she had of getting into an orchestra, and there went her dreams of being a professional violist.
They pulled into a large, empty car park. Khenbish shut off the car. He grabbed Khurtschono’s shoulder.
“This is not a common occurrence,” he warned quietly. “I had to promise you’d be silent, and on your best behaviour. These musicians are at work right now, and you do not want to disturb them. Understood?”
“Yes Aav.”
She understood completely. How often had she gotten pissed at Altanchono for distracting her? No, Khurtschono was going to make sure she did nothing to be kicked out.
They entered a massive building through a small side entrance. Khurtschono chuckled quietly at the memory of sneaking into laser tag with Soren. Okay, they snuck about as much as she and Khenbish were right now. But it had still been a fun day.
An elf met them at the entrance, a harried look on his face.
“Alright, just go down this hall, turn left at the end, and take the first door on your right; it’ll put you right above the pit. We’ll be on stage,” he said quickly. “I gotta go; Aerin was not happy about me dipping out for this song.”
Khenbish nodded, nudging Khurtschono after the elf. The flautist turned right at the end of the hall, disappearing through a door, and Khenbish turned Khurtschono to the left, making sure she went through the correct door.
The moment the door opened, sound blasted their ears. Music flooded the room beyond, and Khurtschono screwed up her face against the sonic assault. She stumbled into the cavernous hall beyond, edging between a row of upholstered seats and a large pit before the stage.
The orchestra lined the stage in the usual sections Khurtschono knew — no, wait, why were the cellos divided? And the woodwinds were sitting opposite of the violins for some reason. She stared at the oddity as she sat, trying to figure out what was going on.
Suddenly, the music faltered as the conductor dropped his hand.
“Move the cellos back together; they’re fighting the flutes,” he called. “Jackson, are you done with your errand?”
“Yeah, I’m here,” the flautist who’d greeted them said, dropping into a chair.
“Let’s try to get a bit more sound from you.”
Already, the cello players were adjusting their instruments, returning their seating to the usual section.
“Erica, let’s see if we can get those cymbals to enter just a bit earlier on bar 54.”
The timpanist nodded, turning to her partner with a quiet murmur. The two chatted for a moment before moving back to their instruments.
“We’ll take a few minutes to let the cellos get more comfortable. Make it fast, guys.”
The orchestra broke apart in a chorus of scraping chairs and chatter. Khurtschono chuckled; it sounded just like whenever Miles gave them a break in class.
A man approached the edge of the stage, staring at Khurtschono.
“You the violist Jackson was inviting over?” he called.
“Um… yes?”
Turning his head, the man called out, “Hey Emily!” A middle-aged elf turned with a frown, and he beckoned her over. “Kid wants to talk to you.”
“Oh no, that’s okay,” Khurtschono said quickly. “I don’t want to interrupt-”
“Nonsense, we’re on break,” the man scoffed. “I’m James. This is Grandmama Emily.” He motioned toward the elf as she approached.
“I told you not to call me that,” the elf grumbled. “Makes me feel old.”
“Yeah?” James scoffed. “Emily is our first violist, sort of the senior statesman of the section. This is her last year in the orchestra.”
“Last year?” Khurtschono frowned. “What’s-”
“Dowager Finley’s doing,” Emily scowled. “Now elves have to retire by age 100, so I have to give this all up, turn it over to new blood. What happened to your arm?”
“Sprained it running track,” Khurtschono muttered.
“What? Speak up, this hall’s not meant to transfer sound to the stage.”
“I sprained it during track practice.”
The elf rolled her eyes.
“Kids these days, always taking stupid risks. You protect your hands like your life depends on them,” she scolded. “And don’t think you can slack off just because you’re injured.”
“But I can’t play-”
“Do you like playing?” Emily interrupted.
“Yeah, it’s my life,” Khurtschono said.
“Then you’ll find ways around it.” Emily pulled a pen out of her pocket and tossed it down to Khurtschono. “Show me your bow hold.”
Khurtschono wrapped her hand around the pen, spreading her fingers to offer a stable grip while still remaining loose.
“Wider,” Emily said, and Khurtschono’s pinky stretched until it was nearly at the tip of the pen. “There. Now you can practise your bowing. And for the love of the gods, don’t you dare try using your instrument. Friend of mine did that. Her playing days are long over now. Don’t be stupid about letting yourself heal.”
“Alright everyone, that’s time!” Aerin called out.
James lifted himself back onto the stage as Emily stalked off.
“Talk to me after rehearsal,” he said. “We might be able to help you with your arm.”
He scurried back to the viola section, taking up the second chair after Emily.
Aerin raised his baton, and the room filled with a pregnant pause.
He flicked his wrist down. A beat later, a lonely flute filled the hall, calling, searching. Khurtschono’s eyes lit up as the violins took up the call, answering with a soothing voice on the other side of the room. She closed her eyes, leaning back in her seat as the rest of the orchestra filled the hall with a backdrop to the flutes and violins. A rolling thunder thrummed through her heart, climaxing with the soft crash of the cymbals, and she grinned.