Connor and the Wolves - 16. Lynestra's Light

Khurtschono swallowed his pill, grimacing at the minty aftertaste. Shaking the taste off, he stood up and blew out the candle flickering in front of Tareth’s altar. His obligations to the river god were finished for the morning.
Stepping out of the small shrine, Khurtschono stretched. A quick swipe across his phone gave him his next task — the horse stalls needed to be mucked. A side note reminded him to give the horses a scoop of oats and make sure to fill the trough in the field.
He trudged downstairs, dodging Altanchono as the orange neko pounded on the bathroom door.
“John, I’m going to be late!”
Khurtschono rolled his eyes, swiping a line of scent masker under his nose. It was barely five. They didn’t leave until seven. If anything, it was Khurtschono who ran the risk of being late — he had five stalls to clean. He’d be lucky to finish within an hour.
Pulling on a pair of heavy boots, he plodded out to the barn. A quick trip down a row of stalls let the horses go free, and Khurtschono herded them out to a corral. He poured some oats into a large basin before dragging a hose to the trough in the fields beyond the fence.
While the water ran, Khurtschono returned to the empty stalls. Clipping on his earbuds, he turned on his music and got to work cleaning out the stalls. The music carried him away, the mucking of the stall left as a mindless exercise.
A timer dinged in his ear.
Khurtschono dropped the muck rake and sprinted from the stalls. He shut off the hose just before it began overflowing in the trough, not wasting a single drop.
The rest of the stalls didn’t take long to clean. The orange stripe under his nose kept the worst of the smell from his sensitive muzzle, and Quarius’s theme in his ears kept his mind occupied. He’d been listening to the song nonstop since getting home; something he’d have to thank Soren for. He doubted Altanchono was as happy with his newfound obsession, but Khurtschono was going to keep listening to the song until he found something better. Besides, he’d been using his earphones… most of the time….
Grabbing the wheelbarrow full of manure, Khurtschono ran it out to the burgeoning compost pile near the back of their property. He dumped the empty barrow back in the barn and flicked off the lights.
“KURT!”
Khurtschono jumped. An earbud whipped out as he spun. Skylar stood at the barn door, scowling at him.
“For the love of the gods, turn down your music!” she snapped. “Your boyfriend’s here.”
“What?”
“Soren. You know, the wolf you never shut up about?”
“Why is he here?” Khurtschono winced. He had temple in less than an hour. There was no chance he could take Soren to school today. “I could have sworn I told him today was a bad day.” And why was he here so early, anyway?
“Apparently he didn’t get the message.”
Khurtschono locked the barn door. Racing back to the house, he kicked off the boots at the back door and rushed inside.
Cooking eggs and bacon gave his nose a much needed break from the smell of horses. Khurtschono hesitated by the kitchen, where Catherine was cooking while John chopped vegetables. Catherine glanced at Khurtschono, and Khurtschono darted away. Breakfast would wait until after he was ready for the day.
Soren stood just inside the front door. A pie sat in his hands, the berry scent wafting through the air. Khurtschono could hear pounding feet upstairs, and he darted in front of the hall. A second later, Altanchono slammed into his back.
“Hey!” the orange neko whined, rubbing his nose.
“Hey yourself,” Khurtschono grumbled, trying to massage the spot Altanchono struck. Thank the gods he’d stopped his brother in time — if Altanchono had hit Soren, it would have been a disaster.
Soren stared at them with a bemused look on his face.
“I… uh… I brought pie. Thanks for the sugar,” the human said.
“We have plenty.” Khurtschono edged toward the hall. He was going to be late if he didn’t get in the shower. “Of sugar, I mean. I need to shower. We have temple this morning.”
“You should come with us!” Altanchono exclaimed behind him.
“I’ve never been to a temple,” Soren said.
“It’s okay, this is our first time visiting a temple in Astara,” the orange neko pressed. “We’re going straight to school after.”
“Oh.” Soren shuffled awkwardly. “Uh… I guess I’ll go then.”
The front door opened. Khenbish stepped inside, raising an eyebrow at Soren’s presence.
“Altanaa, help our guest,” he said. “Khurtsaa, shower, now.”
“Yes, Aav,” the two said, scrambling to obey.
Khurtschono let out a relieved breath as he rushed upstairs. Now he didn’t have to feel guilty about leaving the human alone. He was just obeying his father.

“Give me your hand.”
Khurtschono wrapped a yellow ribbon around Soren’s wrist, tying it into a loose bow. His own band rested on his right wrist, a bright yellow clashing with his calico fur. He never looked good in the colour, but thankfully the dress code for Lynestran temples only cared that there was yellow somewhere on their body.
“What’s this for?” Soren asked, stepping out of the truck.
“It’s to honour the sun,” Altanchono explained, fidgeting with the tie around his neck. “When you honour the sun, you honour Lynestra. All her worshippers wear yellow. Most wear hoods, but we don’t like those.”
Khurtschono’s ears twitched at the thought. Hoods always muffled the world around him.
Closing the truck door, the calico stretched, letting his claws extend as he worked a kink out of his knuckles. Nearby, Catherine and Skylar were adjusting more traditional yellow dresses. Khenbish had remained home — he held no faith in the gods, preferring to venerate the spirits of the land. Khurtschono always spared a prayer for the spirits, juggling the religions of both the Ythin and the Niwo, but the rest of the family stuck firmly to the Niwo deities.
“I always thought Lynestra was an elven god,” Soren said. “You told me elves and nekos don’t get along well. Why do you worship an elven god?”
Khurtschono bit his lip.
“It’s… complicated. Nekos don’t have their own gods. Worship of the elven and human gods was encouraged — some would say enforced — by the elves after the Rebellion. It’s best not to question it.”
Especially not in the centre of worship, surrounded by elves.
A gong rang through the car park. Khurtschono grabbed Soren’s hand, pulling the human along as the nekos hurried toward the temple entrance. They fell into a line that snaked into the circular building.
White smoke billowed from the open roof of the temple. They must have just started the bonfire. Judging by the line, it would be burning brightly by the time Khurtschono reached the labyrinth.
He shuffled forward, following Catherine and Skylar. Altanchono was somewhere behind him, probably prodding John along. Soren towered over him, following along with an almost comical meekness. Khurtschono didn’t blame him — it was their first time at this temple too.
“May Lynestra’s rays lift the chill of night.”
An elf waved a censor past them as they entered. Burning phosphorus invaded Khurtschono’s nose, and he fought the urge to sneeze. The bright light passed around him, and then he was inside.
Here, the murmur of worshippers cut off, leaving a contemplative silence. Khurtschono paused until Soren joined him, the human coughing quietly. Pointing toward a golden line painted on the floor, Khurtschono began the slow spiral into the nave.
“Let your mind clear as you follow the labyrinth,” he murmured to Soren. “Open yourself to the Eternal Fire’s guidance.”
He took a deep breath, focusing on filling his lungs. The air flowed out slowly. Another deep inhale, and Khurtschono watched the line pass underneath. He spiralled around the bonfire as the flames licked ever higher.
Deep breaths. Clear your mind. No thoughts- stop thinking!
Khurtschono exhaled sharply. He’d never perfected the art of clearing his mind. It didn’t look like there’d be a sudden breakthrough today, either. How was he supposed to stop thinking about not thinking?
A circle of mats surrounded the fire, ending the meditative labyrinth. Khurtschono knelt on a mat, and Soren claimed the spot beside him. Glancing around, Khurtschono spotted the rest of his family sitting on chairs in the back of the nave. He shrugged; the mats felt better to him. Besides, this was the perfect spot for Soren to learn about Lynestra.
“Why is there a ball on the ceiling?”
Khurtschono followed Soren’s finger toward a silver ball that shone with reflected firelight.
“That’s the moon,” he explained quietly. “This room doubles as a planetarium; look, you can see Astara over there.” He pointed at a blue orb near the moon. “Aside from teaching us about the movements of the planets, it reminds us that everything is tied to Lynestra’s power. Without her, the world would be a cold, lonely place.”
“That’s right.” An elf smiled at Khurtschono, a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. Belatedly, Khurtschono realised that their whispering had been the only audible noise other than the crackle of the fire. He dipped his head quickly in apology. The elf’s coldness didn’t bother him much — the Elfslayer was going free today. Khurtschono would be surprised if the priest was the only elf to glare at him.
“Every morning, Lynestra grants the world her light. She stokes the fire of our sun, a fire that gives us life as it travels across the sky. It is an endless task, ensuring that flame never goes out as it travels through the universe.” The elf spoke up, looking around the room at the parishioners. “She dances through the sky with Lumara, offering the world a delicate touch with the moon. Yet we can see her power in the way we revolve around her, never slipping away into the cold, dark universe. She guards us as a shepherd guards its flock.”
Khurtschono glanced at Soren as the elf continued her sermon. The human didn’t look particularly convinced. That was okay; not many believed in Lynestra any more. They pointed to science, not understanding that Lynestra worked within the laws of the universe. There was much Khurtschono didn’t know about the universe. Much that scientists didn’t know about the universe. Something had to create the flaming balls of gas in the sky. Why not a god who pulled atoms together to create life?
“This week, I remind you to give your troubles to Lynestra. Trust her light to guide you through the world’s darkness. Pray to her when you are lost and give thanks when you are found. Do your part to help others who need a guiding light in their life, but remember, the Eternal Fire is gentle in her guidance. So too should you be. Give aid with no expectations. Let the knowledge that you do a good deed be all the reward you need. And above all, give aid to everyone equally. The Lady of Light does not shine brighter on any one person.”
Khurtschono closed his eyes as the sermon continued. They always ended with thirty minutes of meditation back home, but they started before sunrise too. Khurtschono had never been to temple this late before. If he started his meditation now, maybe he could get the full thirty minutes in before they had to leave for school.
A hand tapped his shoulder. Khurtschono gasped, whipping his head around.
Catherine motioned toward the exit with her head. Beside her, Altanchono shook Soren gently. The human rolled to his feet, following the orange neko from the nave. Khurtschono picked himself up and hurried after them.
That was the fastest thirty minutes he’d ever experienced.

The sun glinted across the dashboard as Khurtschono pulled into an empty car park. His mother parked beside him, letting Altanchono and John out of the car.
Glancing around the car park, Khurtschono raised an eyebrow.
“Is it usually this empty Lenyal mornings, or is this just because of that neko going free today?”
Soren shrugged beside him, unfolding himself from the truck.
“I couldn’t say.”
“Right, you usually run here.” It still amazed Khurtschono that the werewolf jogged forty kilometres a day just to go to school.
“Altan, John, I want you taking the bus home today,” Catherine said nearby. “If Khurtschono wants to run track, it will be safer if he drives home after practice.”
“Whoo!” Altanchono cheered. “Does this mean we can stop by CeCe’s for dinner?”
“Absolutely not,” Catherine scolded. “You don’t need to ruin your appetite before dinner. John, make sure he gets home safe.”
“Yes, Ma,” John muttered, adjusting his bag.
The chime rang through the school before Catherine could continue, and Altanchono hurried off. Khurtschono raced after him before he could get in trouble — where was his first class again? Was it across the street? The calico bit back a curse, gripping his brother’s shoulder.
“Where do you think you’re going?” Khurtschono demanded.
“Astaran History. Room 404. Where I go every day.” Altanchono stuck his tongue out at Khurtschono.
Khurtschono gritted his teeth. How was he supposed to keep track of two schedules? Worse, Altanchono knew he was going to forget, and there was no way he wouldn’t hold that over Khurtschono’s head. There were times Khurtschono really hated being aerafael.
Stalking toward the school, Khurtschono dragged Altanchono behind him. The orange neko cackled.
“Hey Soren, look. He’s toe walking. That’s how you know I got to him,” Altanchono crowed.
Growling, Khurtschono planted his heels on the ground.
“What’s wrong with toe walking?” Soren asked behind them. “I like it. Makes my legs stronger.”
“Really?” Khurtschono glanced back at the human, his eyes narrowing at the viola case in Soren’s hand. “Fuck…” Grabbing the case, Khurtschono let out a harsh breath, trying to release the frustration he felt without actually exploding at Soren. Altanchono was a different matter — if Khurtschono knew their mother wasn’t scrutinising every step they took, he’d have smacked the orange neko by now.
The peace he’d gained during the morning’s meditation was fading fast. Khurtschono soldiered on.
Until Miles’ scent struck him like a brick. Suddenly, Khurtschono was reminded that his mate taught at the school.
“This is so not my day…”