Two of a Kind Ch. 05

Bashta snapped a picture of the man lying sprawled out on the floor. His face was turned away from where Bashta was standing so he carefully stepped over the prone form and crouched down. The flash highlighted the gray undertone of his face. Bashta gagged.

He still couldn't move toward that small bundle so he began moving through the house room by room. He stood in the center of each room and took pictures, turning in slow circles to get everything. He did the main living areas and then moved to the three bedrooms. One was empty but he took a picture of it anyway. The master bedroom and bath took him a while to go through as he looked under the bed, in the closets and cabinets. Finding suitcases in the closet he dragged them out and opened them.

He couldn't read the papers in the front flap so he spread them out on the messy bed and took a picture of each page, just in case. He wiped the sweat off his forehead and then continued to go through the blue suitcases. A bunch of clothes, personal effects, and shoes made up the rest of the contents.

The kitling's room was the hardest to enter. The blanket was pulled off the bed, obviously the one wrapped around the small form in the living room. Several toys were spread around the room. The small dresses and pink shoes told Bashta the gender of the child. He took a deep breath, going through the room with the same meticulous care he went through all the others.

"Jaguar save us!" Bashta stumbled back in shock. He stared at the object on the shelf in the corner while tears streamed down his face. It was a statue. A statue he recognized.

Lasemo was the best carver in the village. His jewelry was highly prized by the women and the men believed his blow guns were lucky. Often carved with the images of the beasts they hunted, it was considered an honor to receive a blow gun made by Lasemo. The kitlings though... they crowed in joy when he made them toys.

Wooden flowers that cleverly came apart and fit back together like a puzzle made from blood wood, statues of jaguars made from the pale huayruro wood, polished to a glistening shine with sand from the river and given black spot with the help of hot stones from the fire. Monkeys with clever curled tails that linked together from tigrillo, a rich brown with stripes. The favorite of the female kitlings, though, were the beautiful dolls he created. He carved the figures with fantastic headdresses and the mothers would create intricate skirts and capes for them.

Sitting on a small blanket on the shelf was one of those dolls. Her skirt and cape were missing but the headdress...

Bashta pointed the camera at the shelf with shaking hands and pushed the button several times with his eyes closed. He was crying so hard he could barely see as he fled from the house and ran up the road. The camera dangled from his wrist, forgotten, as he tried to outrun the memories that threatened to swamp him.

It took him several times to open the door at the other house. He hurried through the rooms. The similarity in the floor plan disturbed him but made it easy for him to find the bathroom. He dropped the camera on the counter and ripped off his clothes. There was already cleanser and shampoo in the bathroom; they were always kept ready for guests. He spent long minutes scrubbing the sick smell of death off his body and out of his hair.

Sobbing, he slowly sank to the floor under the warm stream of water. He drew his knees up and rested his forehead on them, rocking in anguish. Flashes of his family, his litter mates, and his parents flowed through his mind. His baby siblings, only a few years old had been his favorites. Little Velli had been his faithful shadow. She'd climbed all over him in the evenings, falling asleep in his arms more often than not. That doll had been hers, the headdress one Bashta himself had designed and asked Lasemo to carve for her birthing day.

Unable to think past his grief, Bashta stayed on the smooth floor of the shower until the water turned icy cold. It pulled him from the hold his painful memories had on him. He reached forward and shut off the water, his hands still trembling. Taking a breath he suddenly felt a swamping wave of love and concern. Cavel knew something had happened. Feeling his mate's emotions had Bashta rushing to find clothes. He was still dripping when he pulled on a pair of black sweats and tied the cord that could barely hold them up on his hips. The t-shirt he found was equally as big but he didn't care.

He did remember to grab the small card from the camera. Holding that in his hand he walked barefoot out of the house. The dew was still wet on the grass under his feet as he walked across the lawn. His eyes were locked on Cavel standing beside the car. Saulle stood next to him. Bashta stopped a few feet away and wordlessly held the card out to Saulle.

Cavel looked as if he wasn't breathing. He stared at Bashta who stood motionless, tears beginning to trickle back down his cheeks. Bashta was unsure if he could stand any questions but when Cavel simply held his arms out, Bashta rushed into his embrace. He buried his face in Cavel's neck, breathing deep.

Cavel's clean musky scent washed away the last of the smell still lingering in his nostrils. Bashta couldn't do anything but tremble. Cavel carefully maneuvered his unresisting body into the backseat and then pulled him back into his arms. Bashta curled up and wrapped his arms around Cavel's chest, holding on with all the strength he had. He could feel Cavel's occasional struggles for breath but he was unable to relax his grip.

"It's okay, I'm here," Cavel soothed him, rubbing his back in small circles. "I'm not going anywhere. We'll be home soon."

"You want me to take you back to your house?" Saulle looked back at Cavel in the rear view mirror.

"Yes. You can use my laptop to look at the pictures."

"Do you think he will be able to tell us what he saw?" Saulle whispered.

"No. I can't feel his thoughts at all but his emotions are swamping him right now. I don't think he can really understand us. But I don't think he'll need to tell us what he saw. I could feel this overwhelming sensation of pain right about a minute before he came running out of the other house. Whatever he saw will be the last pictures he took."

"If he remembered to take pictures."

Cavel continued to rub Bashta's back. "He's the strongest person I know. He took them."

Saulle just nodded and continued to drive.

"Hold on baby, we'll be home soon," Cavel said softly. "Hold on."