“I’m sorry things had to turn out this way.”

The Tribe Father looked at his mate for a moment before turning back to the mirror. He adjusted his robes for a moment before turning to him. “Mate, no need to apologize. We didn’t know this would happen. I begged the Great Father to bring him back, and now that he is, I know now how vindicative he can be.” His eyes swimmed with tears about to fall.

His mate went over and kissed him lovingly before hugging. “He’s not vindictive. The Great Father does not work that way. You know that. You prayed, and he, in mercy, gave him to us. You should be thankful that he is alive.” He wiped his mate’s tears away. “I know it is hard for the both of us, but we cannot fight against Destiny’s edicts.”

“Damn Destiny!” the Father exclaimed, his sadness flashing into anger. “Damn him and his chains! Damn him!” Then it melted back into grief and he leaned onto his mate, sobbing uncontrollably.

A gong rang somewhere.

“That will be the guards,” the mate said, smoothing the robe. He handed over a small towel to the other Bull, which he used to dry his face. “They’ll be bring him in. Now, Mate, we must be strong. He’ll want us to be this way.”

The gong rang again.

“Come on.”


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