This is for the incomparable nicollini, who not only created Children of the Forest, but illustrates it as well. If you haven't checked out her tumblr yet, do it post-haste. There you can find pictures of Neri, Kero, and the babies.

Happy birthday, Nicole! I hope you had a wonderful day.

That Which Is Not Done

The sun that filtered through the canopy was warm on tired scales, and welcome after a week's long work. She knelt by the edge of the lake in a brief moment of respite, her eyes closed as she listened to the soft humming that drifted across the surface of the waters, occasionally adding her own counterpoint as the mood struck her. It was always so at gathering time, but the extra work that went to providing for the increased numbers was made far less arduous by the little things such as this. She enjoyed the music, and wished that her own family was more predisposed to it.

"Daydreaming, Neri?"

She looked up, smiling in invitation as Daru approached from behind her. Her cousin knelt at Neri's side, casting a questioning look at her empty net.

"Not daydreaming," Neri said, nudging Daru's shoulder with her own. "Just... thinking."

Daru clucked and shook her head, setting the beads around her neck to clicking against one another. "Thinking does not fill hungry bellies," she chided, and took half of Neri's net in her hands. "What is it that fills your head instead?"

Neri cast her cousin a rueful grin, raising her side of the net. "Mother is on about it again." Together, they cast the net out over the waters, where it disappeared with barely a splash. Pulling the net's tether out from its loose knot around her wrist, Neri ran the frayed rope between her fingers.

Daru sighed. "I do not know why you fight it so fiercely. You should take a mate. It's fun. And then, if fortune smiles upon you, there are babies to brighten your day." Daru raised her hand, proudly fingering the beads on her necklace that had come during her courtship, and the two that stood for the two of her four surviving children old enough to have received their names.

"And if I do not feel that I am ready for children?"

Daru looked at her, and shook her head again. "You always were a strange one, Neri. You are well past your age of independence. Why wouldn't you be ready for children?"

Neri looked away in answer, twisting the rope in her hands and bringing the net up from the depths of the water and flinging it to the beach. She stared down at the writhing silver bodies of the fish that lay gasping within the strands of her net, and sighed. "Perhaps I am just not ready to be tied down."

Daru's face was tense with confusion as she regarded her younger cousin. "You say the strangest things, sometimes," she said at last. "But come. You have some fine fish for your family. Perhaps tonight some fine young male will come and share his fish by your fire."

"And what if I want to eat my own fish?" Neri muttered darkly.

"But... that's not..."

"Not how it's done," Neri said. "I know." She rose to her feet, drawing her net with her. "Pay me no mind, Daru, I am in a strange mood today." She offered her hand, tugging her cousin up with her. "Let us take these to Mother, and you can show me your two fine new babies."

That brightened Daru up considerably, and she surged ahead, dragging Neri by the hand. "Ah, yes! Grandmother is particularly taken with dark-eyed one, but I think both of them will live to their naming day. Females usually do better than males in that regard, do they not? Why, just the other week…"

Smiling, Neri allowed herself to be dragged in Daru's wake. It wasn't that she was opposed to the idea of children. Not at all. It was just that she didn't want to clutch with just any mate. She wanted to clutch with one who understood her.

But then, she had to keep that to herself. Because, like so many things Neri preferred, that was just not how it was done.

"I cannot believe that you would not share with even one!"

Neri smiled to herself as she dangled one foot in the water, glancing up at her cousin from her perch on the log overhanging the lake. It had seemed as good a place of any to mend the fish trap, and it gave her a good vantage point to watch the antics of the children playing in the water. But Daru, it seemed, would not allow Neri that small luxury. She stormed across the log toward her, sitting with a thunk that sent ripples through the water below, and pulled the basket from Neri's hands. "Not one?"

"None of them interested me," Neri said.

"Neri, it is not a matter of interest. You merely need look for a male who - children, you leave that forest rat alone! Put that down! What do you think you are doing? - who will give you a good clutch and provide for you through your gravid state. What has interest to do with any of that?"

"Nothing," Neri said, pulling the basket back. "I just..."

She was saved from being forced to articulate thoughts that even she did not know how to express by a shout from across the lake. The children's game had managed to intrude upon a gathering of young males, and it was the gruffest and stockiest of the group who had put up the loudest protest, shooing the children away. Still glowering, he sat back down, to the accompaniment of the laughter of the other young males. Ignoring them, he returned to what he had been doing, carving a block of wood with a small knife.

"Well," Daru sighed. "We must have some choice. Imagine being stuck with a mate like cranky Kero over there."

"Hmmm," Neri said, her fingers resuming the familiar weaving of the repairs on her trap, even as she watched the group of males. "What do you suppose he is doing?"

Daru followed her gaze and shrugged. "Who knows why any male would chose to mess about with a bit of old driftwood. Now, your mother has a nice male in mind from the clan who arrived yesterday..."

And Daru was off again. Biting back the retort that longed to burst free of her tongue, Neri continued her work on the trap and did her best to let Daru's words flow over her as the waters of the lake flowed over her foot. It was inevitable at gathering time. It would blow over. It always did.

But she was wrong. She had underestimated her mother's resolve, and was unprepared for the repercussions of her indecisiveness. For her mother was no longer content to nag at Neri with Daru's assistance. Her mother had gone to Grandmother.

"-and she turned away yet another male with fish last night." Her mother gestured emphatically at Neri as she stood before the oldest female of their clan.

"It was a yellow fish," Neri protested. "I don't like-"

"Neri."

All it took was that single word from Grandmother to send Neri's head retreating halfway into her shell like a little child. Silently, she waited for her Grandmother's pronouncement.

Her mother cast Neri a look of satisfaction. "Thank you, Mother. I knew you would-"

"Maera."

Another name from Grandmother, and Neri's mother was cowering just as badly as her daughter.

With a sigh, Grandmother shook her head. "I wish to speak to Neri alone."

"But-" Maera began

"Come, child," Grandmother said, holding a hand out to Neri. With an apologetic glance at her mother, Neri followed Grandmother away from the fire and into the quiet darkness of the forest. When they were some distance away, Grandmother stopped and eased herself down onto the stump of a fallen tree. Without waiting, Neri knelt at her feet, gazing up at the wise old kappa.

Grandmother looked down at her, and ran a gentle hand over her head. "Oh, Neri. Whatever am I to do with you?"

Neri leaned into the touch, closing her eyes at the comfort of it. "I am sorry, Grandmother. I do not wish to be contrary."

"No." Grandmother's voice rang with amusement. "You never do. And yet, we are here again, as it has been since you were very small."

Neri ducked her head again, retreating back into her shell.

Grandmother made a soft noise, swatting Neri with loving reprimand on the back of her shell. "Come out of there, child. I am not cross with you. Contrary to what you may think, I do understand."

Neri emerged, blinking. "You do?"

"Of course I do, child. I have had my experience with mates before. How else do you think I find myself matriarch to so many wayward children?"

Neri couldn't help smiling at that, and she laced her fingers together in her lap. "So will you talk to Mother and ask her to stop?"

"Oh, no. Certainly not. I agree with her."

Shock and dismay raced through Neri as she looked up at her Grandmother. "But..."

"Not for your mother's reasons, of course. But she is not wrong." Grandmother held out her hands. After a moment, Neri took them and let herself be pulled onto the stump next to her grandmother. She remained stiff for as long as she could when Grandmother's arm went around her, but could not help relaxing into the touch.

"It is a harsh world, Neri-child," Grandmother said quietly. "And it grows harsher still. Our children perish before us in greater numbers than they ever have. Your mother does not realize this, but our numbers are dropping. Dangerously so." Grandmother sighed. "I have no wish to force anything upon you, but I can no longer ignore the fact that there is no reason why you should not have your first clutch. We need children, Neri. Rather desperately, if our kind are to survive."

Her Grandmother's hold on her was warm, and Neri snuggled deeper into it against the cold that laced its icy tendrils through her at her grandmother's words. Neri hadn't known it was as bad as all that, but the thought of their kind dying out... Her mind shuddered away from the thought, and her body shivered in sympathy. Grandmother's other arm came around her, and Neri drew a trembling breath as she rested her head against Grandmother's plastron, taking comfort in the shelter of those aged arms. "I had no idea."

"Few do, outside of the matriarchs," Grandmother said. "We do not wish to frighten our children needlessly. Not yet. There is still hope." She placed a finger beneath Neri's chin and tilted her head up to meet her gaze. "That hope lies in you and your sisters."

At last, Neri nodded, and leaned against Grandmother as the older Kappa stroked her head lightly. "Why tell me at all?" Neri asked.

"Because you think about things," Grandmother answered, the humour back in her voice. "I have always hoped that you might be a matriarch yourself someday." As Neri turned startled eyes back up to her, Grandmother tapped her smartly on the nose. "But for that, there must be children."

"Yes, Grandmother."

Grandmother let out a sharp bark of laughter. "Oh, child, you needn't sound like I have condemned you to a life of servitude. It is not all unpleasantness - most matings are rather enjoyable, and you have no reason to see him after the eggs are clutched if you find his company intolerable." She looked fondly down upon Neri, and cuddled her close. "You will enjoy having children, I think. Not every kappa is suited to it, but you... You, I think, will do rather well."

She laughed again at Neri's expression, and swatted the back of Neri's head with gentle affection. "All right, fine. If you truly cannot find a mate you can tolerate, then I release you from your obligation. Does that suit you?"

"Yes, Grandmother," Neri said.

Grandmother smiled. "Good. Now help an old kappa down from here and take me back to the fire. I may not have attractive young males offering to share their fish any more, but I may at least take pleasure in the many grandchildren I have to do that for me." She snorted. "And great-grandchildren now, as it happens."

Grinning, Neri did as she was bid and hopped off the stump, holding her hand out for her grandmother. The many strings of beads around Grandmother's neck rattled and clicked in a gentle music as they walked, and Neri found herself contemplating them. There were many reasons why a bead might come to a kappa female, though mating was one of the chiefest amongst them, and though she had heard some of the stories behind Grandmother's beads during nights around the fire, there were still many left unaccounted for. But each of the beads around her neck was part of the story that made Grandmother the formidable force that she was, and if that was so, then it couldn't be all bad.

Grandmother had given her a great deal to think about, and so the next day found her alone on the tiny island in the middle of the lake, casting her fishing net from there into the deep waters. It was a good place for thinking, though a terrible spot for catching fish. At the very least, there were some berries that grew here; she couldn't be accused of shirking if she brought at least a few of them back to the fire that night. But with the forest full of gathering kappa, it was one of the few places in which she could be guaranteed some time alone with her thoughts.

Though even the seclusion of the island was not enough to save her from Daru's voice. Neri winced inwardly as her cousin's strident tone drifted across the water. "Reekai!"

Idly wondering what her littlest nephew had done to incur his mother's wrath, Neri searched across the shore for him, and finally located him in the water a good distance out, his little feet paddling madly. Neri chuckled softly under her breath, shaking her head. Reekai's love of the water was his mother's undoing, and it would appear that he had slipped her grasp once again.

If she hadn't been watching him, she would have missed the subtle stirring in the water nearby. It was only because her attention was already directed that way that she saw it. She was on her feet in a heartbeat, pounding across the rocks of the island, her voice raised in desperate alarm. "Balefish!"

They were rare in these waters, though not unheard of, but it had been many, many years since a balefish had last troubled any of the tribes. They avoided adult kappa as a general rule. But a lone kappa child, far from the protection of his tribe, was the perfect target for one of the massive sharp-toothed fish, which legend said had been formed out of hunger and malice at the beginning of the world.

Her nephew's terrified scream echoed across the waters, and there was no thought in her. Only the desperate need to act as she vaulted from the shoal at the end of the island and let the dark waters close over her.

She was a good swimmer at the best of times, but desperation spurred her on, and she all but flew through the water toward the place where her nephew floundered. She was by far the closest; the kappa on the shore had been mustering, but they would never reach Reekai in time. Even as close as Neri was, she was still painfully far away as she closed on the little one, and saw the dark shape of the balefish's fin slicing through the water toward him. Saw the enormous mouth open, baring gleaming teeth. And her arm snapped forward, hurling the net still thoughtlessly clenched in her fingers and ensnaring the balefish in its web.

The net was not designed for anything so large or so cruel. The only thing she could do was grab both edges of it and hold it closed, and hope desperately that the others got Reekai out of the way in time. She cried out as the thrashing fish turned and raked her arm with its razor teeth, losing some of her precious air in the process. But she dared not let go. Not until Reekai was safe. Her lungs began to ache, and her skin seared with the sting of the creature's teeth and spines, but still she clung.

She was not prepared for the shock as something grabbed at her arm. She turned, eyes wide in alarm, to be met with a wrathful glare as another Kappa dragged her aside, bringing up a knife and plunging it deep into the balefish's eye. The fish bucked once and went still, and suddenly it was a dead weight in her net; only then did she realize that the tether was still tied around her wrist. She let out a startled cry, more air escaping as it dragged her down, and she scrabbled desperately at the cord that pulled impossibly tight, knowing that she would never get it off in time...

But a hard hand locked on her shell, and she saw the gleam of the knife slicing at the rope around her wrist, and suddenly she was being dragged back to the surface. She broke the waters, gagging and gasping, and the hands of many kappa grabbed at her to hold her steady, tugging her toward the shore. She struggled in their grasp, still half-hysterical, desperate to see the kappa who had come after her. But when she finally managed to catch sight of the other group of kappa in the water, she was faced with the sight of cranky Kero shrugging out of the hands of his friends and cursing at their insistence, the little knife still clutched in his hands.

It took some time for the excitement to die down. Reekai was unharmed, though Daru was half-mad with fear and shock, and most of the attention of the tribe had to be directed to calming the hysterical young mother down. That left Reekai alone, sobbing quietly on the shores of the lake, and Neri longed to go to him, but she was trapped in the care of two Aunties who had taken it upon themselves to treat the wounds she had received from the balefish. And so it was that she was left with the perfect vantage to watch Kero approach the weeping child and kneel down next to him, holding something in his hands. Reekai blinked as Kero spoke, the tears fading as he took what Kero offered. As Reekai clutched the strange object to his chest with both hands, Neri finally recognized the piece of wood that Kero had been carving with that same little knife for so many days, now cunningly fashioned into a little wooden forest rat.

The crowd around the fire was large that night as the tribes came together, seeking comfort against the fear of the day. Neri found herself on the receiving end of Daru's watery thanks before the Aunties and Maera took charge of her. After a long while, she managed to duck away from the others, claiming the roasting fish she had caught after the whole ordeal from where it sat by the fire and placing it in a worn old bowl she had carved long ago. Trailing the sweet steam from the fish in her wake, she made her way to the rock where a lone figure sat at some distance from the fire, poking at the dirt with a stick while he waited for his fish to cook.

He looked up at her in bewilderment as she stood over him. "Yes?"

Smiling, Neri held out her bowl. "Hello, Kero. I was wondering if you would like to share my fish tonight."

Blinking, his gaze shifted between her and the fish. "But... but that's..."

"Not how it is done?" Neri's smile widened. "I know."

He stared up at her a moment longer before a smile to match her own blossomed across his face, changing that stoic and grumpy countenance to one that was filled with warmth, and challenge, and just a little mischief. Without a word, he shifted over to make space for her. Still smiling, Neri sat next to him, and they shared the fish between them. And she had to admit, never before or afterward did a fish taste quite so sweet as the one they shared that night.

Kappa employed their woodcraft often to hide from predators or strangers, but rarely against one another. Still, she could not help herself. She enjoyed watching him as he worked, his muscles straining against the net as he pulled in the day's catch. She knew that being so furtive was wrong, but she did it anyway. At least, until she could not contain herself any longer. She left the shelter of the underbrush, and he caught sight of her moments later, and she felt a thrill deep within her at the smile that her presence drew out of him. He emptied his catch into the waiting basket weighted in the shallows and straightened, slinging his net over his shoulder. "I was wondering where you had gone."

"Berries will not pick themselves, silly male," she chided, laughter shining in her brown eyes to answer his. She let out a small squeak as he reached out and poked her in the sensitive spot beneath her arm, just above the bridge of her shell, and she smacked his hand away. "Keep that up and I will not give you any."

"Then I shall have to keep all these fish to myself," he taunted back, eliciting a small snort of laughter from her.

"You wouldn't dare. You would become as round as Reekai."

She was rewarded by the deep rumble of his laugh as he waded from the shallows, following her gaze to where her nephew played on the shore with his wooden toy. "Daru is still spoiling him rotten, then?"

"She will stop. Someday." Neri sighed. "Today is not that day."

They walked down the beach together, leaving the fish where they were. They were safe enough in the basket, contained but kept fresh by the cool water, and the younger tribe members would collect them later to prepare them. As they neared the place where the little ones played, Neri glanced over at Kero. "If the balefish had not decided that Reekai looked to be a tasty meal that day, where would that little forest rat be now?"

Kero gave her a glance of surprise, and cleared his throat in mild embarassment. "Still with Reekai." At the look she gave him, he let out a frustrated sound, but she was quickly finding that he had great difficulty keeping anything from her if she asked it. "I saw how the older children ignore him. And that he liked forest rats. So I was making it for him. So he would have something to play with." The stubborn, defiant look he wore so often was back, and he wouldn't meet her gaze.

"Hmmm." Neri said thoughtfully. "Then I think I can feel more confident in my decision over this," she said. Like many of her kind, she often wore a pouch on a long cord over one shoulder - it was useful for collecting things one came across, like berries and other good things to eat. But for several days, hers had had something else inside of it. She reached inside the pouch and pulled out the treasure she had been keeping hidden. She had found the patterned stone on a lakebed a long time ago, and relished the way the waves had worn a hole through the centre of the stone and polished it smooth as a newborn's shell. She held it up to him, dangling from the leather cord she had fed through the hole. "This is for you."

He stared at her for a moment before he reached out and took it carefully in one of his big, strong hands. "But… males are supposed to give gifts to the females. This is not-"

"Not done?" She smiled. "Really Kero, have you met me?" Neri held out her hand. "But I will take it back if you do not like it."

"No, no," he said quickly, and slipped the cord over his head. "I like it...very much." It hung neatly against his chest, the flecks of blue in the stone picking up the colour of his eyes. A blush spread across his cheeks as he pulled his own pouch off and handed it to her. "Then I suppose now is the time to give this to you."

Neri cast him a quizzical look as she accepted the pouch and tugged it open, perplexed by the strange rattling sound it made. An instant later, a shocked squeak escaped her. She dropped down in the sand, holding out a hand so she could pour the contents of the pouch into it. More than a dozen wooden beads tumbled out, each one intricately carved with details the likes of which she had never seen. These were far more elaborate and numerous than the beads traditionally given with courtship.

"I know, they're not usual," he said, toying with the strands of his net. "But I like carving things, and I thought... And then I kept trying again but they kept coming out all... I can make you some normal ones if you'd rather..."

"Silly male," she said in a choked voice, putting them back into the pouch. "I shall never fit them all on this." Her fingers ran over the cord that hung from her neck, containing the few beads she had acquired over the course of her life. She rubbed at her eyes with the back of her hand, and smiled at him before taking his hand and tugging him down next to her. "I shall have to figure out a new way of stringing them."

His answering smile was sweeter than any berry. As the sun set that night, they remained on the beach, the fish forgotten. She leaned against him, braiding the beads onto a series of long, intertwined cords, as he watched the sky change colour. And when at last their growling bellies drove them to the fire to scavenge the last of the fish, sharing the morsels between them, she did not miss the envious looks cast her by the other kappa females. She did not doubt there would be more braided necklaces before long, but she could take pride in the fact that she was the first. And she was rather certain that no male seated around the fire could give his mate a bead half as pretty as one of Kero's.

When the gathered kappa began to break up for the night and Kero moved to join his brothers, Neri's hand on his arm stilled him. He looked over at her, a question in his eyes, and she took his hand. "Come with me," she said quietly.

As she led the bewildered male from the light of the fire, she did not miss Grandmother's look of approval. The others might question her, her mother among them, but Grandmother, at least, understood. Neri drew Kero farther, until all sound of the others faded away. Then, as she led him around a particularly large tree, she stopped and looked up at him with pride. Before them lay the shelter she had constructed in the lee of a large stone cliff face. It wasn't large, but it was sturdy, and the nest inside was warm.

Comprehension gradually dawned across his face, and he turned his disbelieving gaze to her. "Are you sure? Neri, I- You could... I'm not..."

Ever so carefully, she took his face between her hands. It was strange not to have to bend down to a male, but he was unusually large. With a fond laugh, she nuzzled him gently, rewarded by his stunned silence. "I have never been more sure of anything," she answered him.

Once again, she was rewarded by the sweetness of his smile as it broke over her like the sun.

She had known he would be strong - she had never forgotten the strength and the power in the arms that had dragged her from the depths of the lake. But she had not anticipated his gentleness, or the control with which he used that strength. Or the laughter, as his clever fingers sought out those sensitive places and left her helpless with giggling. Or the warmth that spread through her as he held her after, trapped contentedly in the strength of those arms.

They remained together for the duration of the winter. Food became scarce during the colder months, but the gathered tribes were well able to provide for one another, and with Kero's and Neri's skills combined, there was no danger of them going hungry. The days passed quickly in one another's company, and Neri found she no longer minded the cold winter rains, for it meant that they must spend the day huddled in the dry warmth of the nest, and more often than not, it ended with Kero's arms around her and her head pillowed against his shoulder, listening to the soft thunder of his voice as they conversed about all manner of trivial things. On days when he felt poorly, she could manage provisions alone, and on days when she was reluctant to leave the nest, he did the same.

One such day, however, did not go precisely as she had expected. As she lay in the soft grasses at the edge of the nest, too spent and weak to do more than lift her head, she could not help but feel a sharp pang of regret. No matter how much either of them wanted things to stay the way they were, this... this would change things.

She heard him returning long before he actually arrived, his forestcraft set aside for the tuneless humming that heralded a particularly good mood. He must have caught some fine fish, she thought, and regret rushed through her again as he appeared inside the shelter, his smile vanishing like mist in sunlight as he caught sight of her.

"Neri!"

He was at her side in a heartbeat, gathering her into those fine, strong arms, and his face was a mask of worry as he looked her over, clearly frightened by the limpness of her body. "Neri, what's wrong?"

"Nothing, silly male," she said, though her voice trembled with weakness. "Only, I am more tired than I had thought I would be." She turned her head, and she felt the shock run through him as he followed her gaze to the four large eggs half-buried in the bulk of the nest. "The matriarchs do not speak of that part." She frowned. "That was singularly unpleasant."

One of his hands stroked her head absently as he stared in shock at the nest. "Four..." he breathed. And then his smile was back, and there was wonder in it as he reached out a hand. He caught himself quickly, casting an apologetic look down at her. "Sorry. I know it is-"

"Not done?" Neri snorted, gazing fondly up at him. "Silly male. Give me your hand."

He obeyed with a look of affectionate tolerance, and with his support, she had the strength to reach out for the nest. She guided his hand until his fingers brushed, ever so lightly, over the shell of the first egg. "Careful," she whispered. "The shell is soft."

Kero stared in awe as the shell dimpled ever so slightly beneath his touch, and he moved on to the next egg. It was some time before he shifted his gaze back to her, and not until each egg had received his attention. "They are warm."

"They ought to be," she said, and shifted against him. "I am warm. And they will stay that way for the duration. What the leaves don't ensure, I will." She sighed. "No wonder I have been so hungry."

That brought a sharp burst of startled laughter from him. "And here I thought to be angry with you. You truly didn't know?"

"No," she said, giving her head a small shake. "I have not actually done this before, as you will recall."

"I had forgotten," he said, bending to nuzzle her. "You are remarkably good at it, for something in which you have so little practice."

"I am not the only one," she said, returning the nuzzle before sagging back against him. "Only I am tired."

"Then rest," he said gently, making a spot for them next to the eggs and curling his warmth around her. "You have accomplished much today. You deserve your rest."

"But your fish," she protested weakly.

"I can catch more fish," he said, tapping her on the nose. "Now lie still and let me fuss."

But in truth, she had little strength left to protest. She let her eyes drift closed and curled more securely against the shelter of his plastron, letting his warmth and his strength wrap around her and soothe the pain and the fear of the day away.

"How many do you think will survive?" she murmured against his shoulder.

"All of them," he answered without hesitation.

She laughed softly. "You don't demand much, do you?"

"These are our offspring," he reminded her, poking her beneath the arm. Exhausted as she was, he didn't get more than a little squirm out of her, and he gathered her more tightly against him. "The more people expect one or more of them to perish, the more likely they are to survive just to spite them."

"Careful," Neri said, weary smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. "You'll be naming them next."

"I don't think our grandmothers would ever forgive that," he said, his hand stroking lightly against her shell. "But still... I can't help but think on it."

"Neither can I," Neri admitted.

Kero bent to nuzzle her in answer, and that sweet comfort was all she needed to send her off to sleep, nestled safe between the mate she cherished and the four little eggs that housed their future.

She was expecting it. It was tradition, after all. But that didn't stop the sharp stab of pain that jolted through her when she woke to find him gone. The late afternoon sunlight filtered through the chinks in the shelter wall, which did not surprise her. Given her state the day before, she could have slept for days and not been surprised. But she had hoped that he would at least have stayed to say goodbye. She pushed herself to her feet, her knees still shaking, and took one stumbling step before her legs gave out on her.

But she did not fall. Strong arms caught her and held her close, and she found herself gazing up into Kero's worried blue eyes.

"You are still here," she breathed.

A blush spread across his face, and he coughed awkwardly. "Yes. I gathered some things for your stores, and have several fish smoking over the fire, and I fixed all of the leaks in the shelter, and..." He sighed. "And I didn't want to leave without seeing you again."

Her arms went around him, drawing him close as she nuzzled him. And as he returned the nuzzling with enthusiasm, she found the words slipping out before she could stop them. "Stay with me. One more night."

Kero jerked back, his eyes wide. "But... it is not-"

"If you finish that sentence," Neri said, "I will throw one of these eggs at you."

That familiar smile, warm and kind and edged with just a little wickedness, stole across his face, and he drew her down to the warmth of the nest. Their coming together was as sweet, and as wild, and as wonderful as that first night, and all the other nights in between.

The sun came out the next morning, beating down upon them, and there were no more excuses. She left the shelter with him, arranging his net across his back, and took his hands in both of hers. "I thank you for the lives you helped me bring into this world." The ritual words had always seemed trite to her, but now there was a whole new world of meaning behind them.

"I thank you for your choice, and for the honour of allowing me to father your children." His face was stubborn, serious, as he intoned the ritual words, but as he finished them, a look of hesitant innocence stole across his features. "Neri... do you think... when these children are grown..." He cleared his throat. "Do you think... could we..."

She released his hands to take his face between hers, and nuzzled him into silence. "Silly male," she whispered fondly. "I have no desire to clutch with any male but you. One day, we will provide some fine brothers and sisters for this lot."

The smile broke across his face like the sun emerging from the clouds, and he slowly, reluctantly, took a step away from her. "Will I see you at the gathering?"

She raised a brow. "You would like to see how your children are coming along?"

"Yes," he breathed. "I think I would like that very much."

Neri smiled and squeezed his hand. "Then I shall bring four squirmy babies to the gathering. For you. Even though it isn't done."

And that brought a laugh to his lips as he finally mustered the strength to pull away. She watched him go, and he paused at the bottom of the hill, turning to smile over his shoulder and raise his arm in a wave. She raised her own in answer, and stayed where she was long after he vanished into the trees. Finally, she returned to the eggs in her care, taking some of the provisions her thoughtful mate had gathered for her.

Grandmother had been right after all. Taking a mate had proved to be very pleasant, indeed.

Kero's provisions lasted some time. Long enough for Neri to wake one morning to a rustling in the nest as she lay curled around it. She snapped immediately to waking, alert for any sort of predator after the eggs – she was often having to chase snakes out of the nest -– but it was nothing disturbing the nest that had caused the commotion. She watched the nearest of the eggs rock once, twice, and split suddenly along its length as a frantic head poked through the shell.

She couldn't touch them. She couldn't help. Defiant as she was, this was one of the most sacred of their rites, and the babies had to make their own way into the world. But that did not stop her from gathering the tiny form close as it struggled free of the shell, cradling it -– him -– to her chest as he peered up at her with Kero's blue eyes.

"Hello, my eldest," she whispered, and nuzzled him gently on the top of his head. "Shall we greet your brothers?"

Afer a time, another egg rocked and split, and the second child joined the first. His eyes were a green unlike any she had seen before, but his face was entirely Kero's. Some time later, the third egg hatched, and the brown-eyed youngling blinked up at her with startled curiosity. And then she waited, with bated breath. And waited. And waited...

"No," she whispered, cradling her three babies against her chest. "I promised I would bring him four. I promised. We must keep our promise, little one."

And then, at last, the fourth egg split, spilling one last blue-eyed baby into the nest. Laughing even as tears streamed down her face, Neri gathered her children to her. "Four babies," she whispered. "Four beautiful boys. He was right." As a tiny, impossibly small hand curled around her finger, she felt a wave of defiance surge through her, the like of which she had never felt before. "All four," she said, and there was iron in her voice. "I shall bring him all four of you. You must all survive, you hear me? All of you."

Drawing her children close, she nestled down in the softness of the nest as all four of them succumbed to the weariness of struggling from the shell. But she did not sleep right away. Instead, she lay awake, listening to the soft sounds of all four of them breathing, counting each precious breath. And when she did succumb to sleep, she dreamed of him.

One Year Later...

Neri hefted the basket strapped to her back, scarcely able to believe how heavy the weight of four little kappa combined could actually be. Not for the first time, she silently cursed the distance the tribe had managed to travel in the year since the last gathering. But she recognized the signs, left for those who knew how to look.

She craned her head over her shoulder, just able to see the little face peeping up over the edge of the basket, his brown eyes drinking in the world with the same curiosity with which he had regarded everything from the day he emerged from the shell. "Not long now, my little one."

He turned his head, and she felt the soft pat of tiny fingers against the back of her head, followed by the telltale rustling and jolting from the basket that told her that her babies were once again jostling for position. She made a sharp sound, a skip in her step firmly settling the basket's occupants, and they were silent once more. Then, as reliable as the sun moving across the sky, the clever one shifted to peer over the edge again.

But at last, there was something to see. A shout echoed across the hillside as she neared the lake, and suddenly there were a host of kappa swarming from the trees toward her. She heard a little squeak from the basket as the startled little ones dropped into its safety, and then Daru's arms were around her.

"Neri!" her cousin cried, drawing back to rest her hands on Neri's shoulders. "Oh, you should not have come with the babies so small, but I am so glad you did! The tribes have lost so many this year; it will do everyone good to see the little ones. Oh, come here, you precious thing." Without waiting for an answer, she descended upon the little head that was once again peeping over the basket's edge and scooped the little one out. He let out a squeak, his tiny arms and legs flailing until his cousin cuddled him close. "This one has your eyes," she said, and peered into the basket, letting out a soft gasp. "Four! Did they all survive?"

"Indeed they did," Neri laughed, rescuing her son from her cousin's enthusiastic affection. "Would you tell Grandmother that I have come? There is something I must do first." She held her son up to her shoulder and he clambered over it instantly, to be grabbed and drawn back into the basket by one of his brothers. Strongest, unless she missed her guess.

"Of course." Daru rested a hand against Neri's cheek, and smiled at her. "It is good to see you, Neri."

"And you," Neri replied. "Now off with you, or Grandmother will have both our heads."

She made her way toward the beach, returning the enthusiastic greetings of her tribemates as she went, though every time she was forced to stop to let someone admire the babies, she found her pride in them at war with her seething impatience. At last, the greetings grew more formal as she moved into the ranks of other tribes, and she found herself practically dancing in anticipation as she scanned the faces on the beach.

Finally, down by the water, she spotted a pair of familiar blue eyes in the face of one of the young males pulling in a net. One of Kero's brothers -– Laren, she thought it was. She called out a greeting, and there was recognition in his face as he dropped the net and moved toward her.

"Neri, is it not?" he asked.

"Yes," she said, eagerly scanning the faces behind him. "I bring you greeting, Laren. Can you tell me where I might find Kero?"

It was the look on his face that froze her in her tracks. "Laren?" she asked quietly.

"Neri..." he bit his lip, looking over his shoulder at his brothers. "Do you know what a vortan is?"

She did -– Kero had told her stories of the ferocious predators that lurked in the swamps where his tribe most often made their home. From the way he spoke of them, they put the balefish to shame.

"No," she breathed. "Oh, please no..."

A young kappa, who couldn't have been more than six or seven, came to stand by Laren at the urging of the others in the group. Laren looked down at him, and rested a hand against his shell. "We didn't see it until it was too late. Kero made it out of the swamp, but Peri here was trapped. Kero went back for him..."

Laren reached into the pouch at his side and pulled something from it, and Neri stared for a long, dumbfounded moment. Shock poured through her, leaving her senses dulled and her extremeties numb, and it took her some time to recognize the polished stone that dangled from the frayed cord that Laren held. She reached out at last, and took it in a trembling hand, running her fingers over the smooth surface.

There was a small commotion in the ranks of the kappa behind Laren, and Peri darted back toward them, returning a moment later with a small basket in his hands. Laren patted the young kappa on the head and took the basket from him. "Kero wanted to give these to you at the gathering. He spoke very highly of you." Gently, Laren pressed the basket into her hands. "If it is not too forward, may I come to meet the young ones at the gathering time?"

"Yes..." Neri looked down at the basket in her hands. "Yes, of course."

Laren smiled at her, and it was all she could do to retain her composure in the face of that too-familiar expression. Hastily, she stammered out her leave and all but fled, making her stumbling way back to her own tribe's gathering place.

She moved past the others in a daze, brushing off their reaching hands and their exclamations of concern, pleading weariness and a need to rest. She made it to a secluded clearing just outside of the firelight before her legs gave way and she fell to her knees with a strangled sound that might have been a sob.

A soft protest from the basket at her back called her attention back to it, and she slipped it from her shoulders, setting it carefully in the grass next to her. As a second, third, and finally fourth head joined the first in peering over the edge, Neri's shaking hands finally managed to loosen the clasp holding the lid on the basket Laren had given her. Lifting the lid carefully, her breath caught as she saw what lay within.

Four carved wooden figures stared up from the depths of the basket: an eliara, a tree cat, a turtle, and a forest rat.

"Four," she whispered, and felt the sting of tears in her eyes. "He never doubted."

She lifted the basket into the waiting hands of her children, biting the edge of her finger to stop herself from crying out, and let them sort the toys out between them.

"Neri?"

The soft voice from the edge of the clearing was both the first and the last she wanted to hear, and she looked up with a protest on her lips. But it died before it was born, for her grandmother was not alone, and the green eyes that regarded her from the face of the second aged matriarch were painfully familiar.

Grandmother and the other matriarch knelt in the grass before her, and grandmother took Neri's hand in hers. "Daru told us you had arrived, and Bera wished to see you before she returned to her tribe."

"Of—of course," Neri stammered, bowing her head to the other matriarch.

"So these are my great-grandchildren," Bera said, gesturing at the basket. "May I see them?"

Neri nodded quietly, and carefully tipped the basket on its side. Her little ones spilled forth, tumbling over one another, their new toys falling between them.

Bera clucked approvingly at the little ones, and cast Grandmother a knowing look as she took in Neri's expression. "You were right," she said. "She went and got attached to him."

"Of course she did,"Grandmother said, not unkindly. "Neri never does anything traditional if she can possibly help it."

At that, a strangled cry left her, but before the tears could fall, she found herself wrapped in the hold of two pairs of caring, motherly arms. She drew in a shuddering breath, clinging to the matriarchs with everything she had in her. "I just c-cannot believe he is g-gone."

"Oh, sweet child," Bera said, stroking Neri's shell. "You are wrong. Kero is still with you." As Neri raised red-rimmed eyes to the elder kappa, Bera gestured to the grass nearby. "Look there."

Neri did so, to see youngest sitting in the grass with tears streaming down his face as eldest and wisest fought over the little wooden eliara. As she watched, strongest stormed his way over, pushing between the two and taking the eliara from them, which he promptly handed to youngest. Instantly, the tears stopped, and the smile that broke over her youngest's face was like the sun emerging from the clouds.

"I didn't think of it that way," she said faintly.

"Oh, Neri-child. You are not the first kappa to form a bond with your mate that goes beyond your children," Grandmother said, her soft voice as soothing as cool water. "You have heard the stories, have you not?"

Neri shook her head, holding out her arms as eldest toddled over to her and climbed into her lap, intent on showing her the tree cat he held. She stroked his shell absently as she looked up at Grandmother.

"It is said that when two kappa form such a connection, their spirits will join each other in the next world." Grandmother's arm drew Neri close, and she nuzzled the top of Neri's head. "It is all right to mourn him, child. We will understand."

"It is not done," Bera said. "But sometimes, that which is not done is most in need of doing."

"Take tonight for yourself," Grandmother repeated. "And then set it aside. Your first duty is your children now."

"And they are a very fine clutch of children," Bera added, picking up strongest as he brought his turtle over to his great-grandmother.

"Yes," Neri agreed, unable to repress a small, tremulous smile as she looked over her babies. "They are."

Grandmother stroked Neri's head one last time before picking up youngest and adding him to Neri's lap. "Take this night for yourself and your children; I will see that food is brought to you and that you are left otherwise undisturbed. But tomorrow, you must join the rest of your family. "

"Listen to your Grandmother," Bera said, adding strongest to Neri's pile. "You are a strong kappa. My grandson would not have courted you otherwise. You will weather this storm, and your children will grow up knowing that they are loved."

Hugging her children close, Neri nodded, not trusting her voice in that moment. Quietly, the matriarchs took their leave as Neri curled on her side and gathered her children close, and after a time, she fell asleep to the sound of their breathing in the dark.

She dreamed that night, as she had not dreamed for nearly a year. She sat on the beach, letting the warm rays of the late afternoon sun warm her as she watched her children playing in the shallows, shrieking in delight over the antics of the little crabs that scuttled across the stones.

She was not entirely sure when she realized that she was not alone any longer, but she did not need to look up to recognize the solid, reassuring weight of the kappa next to her. She leaned against him, letting her head rest against his shoulder as they watched the children play.

"I can scarcely believe it," he said at last. "I know everyone professes to have fathered the finest children, but I think in this case it is truth."

"Of course it is," Neri said with a soft laugh. "There are no children finer in any forest in this world. They are our children." She hesitated a moment and added, very softly, "you like them, then?"

A finger poked the sensitive place beneath her arm and she let out a yelp of laughter to match his. "I love them," he corrected, and his arms came around her. "I am so very proud of you, Neri."

She felt the lump begin in her throat then, and her hands came up to cover his. "I do not wish to do this alone."

"You are not alone," he said. "Never. I shall be waiting for you."

"Do you promise?"

He let go of her then, but only long enough to turn her to face him, and for the first time in far too long, she was staring into his blue eyes as his hands came up to cradle her face. "I shall wait for you until our children no longer have need of either of us," he said firmly. "Until the end of time, if need be. That, I promise." And as he nuzzled her gently, Neri closed her eyes and lost herself in the sweetness of his touch, and in the laughter of their children as they played. The soft thunder of his laugh rolled through her, and she felt several somethings drop into her hand before he closed her fingers about them.

When she woke, it was to the feeling of drying tears on her face, but the horrible ache was gone, and only a soft sorrow remained. Three of the children still slumbered against her, but the fourth was awake, playing with his little wooden forest rat. His brown eyes met hers and he smiled, showing the little gap between his teeth, before he went back to playing with the toy.

It was a few moments before she realized what had woken her. Her son was humming to himself as he played. She had once thought that hum tuneless, but she realized now that it was not. It could not be, for she had heard it before. As her baby boy played in the grass before her, humming his father's song, she found herself truly smiling at last.

She opened her hand, and looked at the four carved and polished beads within. Four beads, one for each child, though he could not have known that all four would survive. "Until the end of time, then," she whispered, and she rose to greet the day.