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Wemmbu doesn’t remember much of his childhood before he was 8 years old. He knows he had parents because he can remember his mother singing him lullabies and his father carrying him through markets because his feet hurt. He couldn’t remember much of their appearances, just that they were fully human. It’s probably why he was ditched so young, his demonic appearance being too much for his very normal parents.
That’s something else he remembers. His very sudden change from normal little boy, so full of joy and whimsy, to an abomination.
A curse.
A monster.
A demon.
He remembers all of those horrid names thrown at him by his own parents and the other normal people living in his old village. Really, it was a mercy and maybe some small hints of past love lingering that kept him from being slaughtered on the spot.
He remembers the feeling of branches digging into his skin and rocks ripping his feet open as he ran from all he had ever known. He remembers the furious screams of his once friends and family as they chase him away in the dead of the night. He remembers the feeling of burning hot fire scorching the ends of his purple hair.
His hair used to be brown - he’s pretty sure at least.
That’s all he really remembers. After that it’s all a blur of survival. He doesn’t really know how he did it, but he survived so Wemmbu thinks that’s fine.
His memories start picking back up at 8 years old (if his counting was correct, which means he’s more likely 7 or 9) when he meets a man. Or boy. Boy seems more appropriate. The boy seemed to be in his teens, maybe 16? We’ve already established Wemmbu’s not great with ages… Anyway!
The teen was a lion hybrid! Fluffy blonde hair coming from behind the dark brown dreads at the front of his head and falling down his back. Two soft looking feline ears sitting on top of his head that twitched with every sound made in the forest. His eyes were hidden behind a bright orange blindfold and he wore clothes of a similarly bright colour. His feet were that of a lions, just as fluffy as his hair with sharp claws that glittered in the afternoon sunlight peeking through the large trees of the jungle. The teen seemed to be staring at him, not that Wemmbu could really tell, as he tilted his head and swished his tail - yet another very fluffy thing about the boy. Wemmbu kind of wants to touch it.
Wemmbu stared at the boy blankly, his long and matted purple hair almost covering his blank purple eyes and purple tinted skin. Purple, purple, purple! That’s all his life was now. Just a haze of purple. Besides the tiny black horns sprouting from his forehead and the black tail that hung limp behind him.
The boy approached slowly, those dangerous paws stepping silently in the dirt, dodging every stray stick and stone with an elegance Wemmbu has never had even with all the time he’d spent in the wild on his own. The lion boy knelt down carefully in front of Wemmbu, who continued to stare at him from his position leaned up against a tree. A hand reached out, sharp claws somehow not seeming like a threat (which was dumb because this boy was a threat) and a soft grin appeared on the boy's lips.
“Hello,” he spoke slowly and softly, like Wemmbu was going to run off at any moment (jokes on him, Wemmbu can’t feel his legs), “are you alright?”
Wemmbu continued to stare at the boy, his voice had long since given out and Wemmbu wasn’t sure he even remembered how to talk anyway.
The boy tilted his head, “My name's Manepear, but you can call me Mane. What’s yours?”
It’s nothing short of a miracle that Wemmbu remembers his own name, it hasn’t been spoken in a very long time. Although, Wemmbu could have made it up in his head or misremembered it. I mean, who names their kid Wemmbu? Actually, who names their kid ManePear? That’s just two different objects smashed together and the parents probably going ‘that’ll do!’. Parents are dumb, there should be some kind of law around naming children.
“Hello?” Oh, yeah. That boy was still there. Wemmbu wonders if the boy will leave soon, when he realises that Wemmbu’s not going to speak to him.
“Can you hear me?” Wemmbu takes pity on the poor boy trying his best to talk to him and uses all his strength to shakily nod his head. Manepear brightens immediately.
“Good!” he cheered, “You just can’t talk?”
Again, Wemmbu musters up all of his strength to nod at the lion boy who finally stops holding his hand out. Or so Wemmbu thought because suddenly both of those clawed hands are reaching for him, so Wemmbu’s obviously about to become a light snack to this hybrid because - really - Wemmbu’s too malnourished to be a proper meal. Honestly, it’s not even worth it to try eating him-
Oh, hey, Wemmbu’s suddenly tall!
No, he’s actually being held by Manepear. Held very gently, might he add. Like how his parents used to, or he assumes they did based on what memories he does have. The claws on Manepear’s hands are still very sharp but stay pointed away from Wemmbu’s skin as the lion cradles him.
Manepear grins down at his new captive, “You’re coming home with me!”
Oh, so Wemmbu’s being cooked instead. From the story books his mother used to read, lions preferred their food raw, was it the human side of the hybrid that made him crave cooked flesh? Even then, there’s not exactly a lot of meat on Wemmbu’s bones, it really would be a waste of time.
Manepear doesn’t seem to care as he turns and walks back the way he came, rambling to Wemmbu about some treehouse and a brother. Wemmbu doesn’t really care enough to listen as it seems this will be the end of his life. He knows there’s no point fighting this and decides just to stay calm and get some sleep. You can’t really blame him, Manepear is warm and fluffy. If he’s going to die he’s at least going to do it comfortably.
Wemmbu’s last thought as he drifts off is, ‘Wow, his voice is really nice, he should get into storytelling.’
~
Anyway, two years later and Wemmbu is 10 years old (or 9, or 11, who really knows? Certainly not him!). He’s healthy, warm, clean and has two older brothers. Manepear, who’s freshly a legal adult and Flamefrags, a 14 year old tiger hybrid.
So - as you can probably tell - Mane did not eat Wemmbu. Quite the opposite, really! Mane had taken Wemmbu back to his house built in the largest tree in the jungle and introduced him to his younger brother, Flame. Mane then proceeded to stuff Wemmbu full of food. Which, although it was a kind gesture, was not a good idea as Wemmbu was severely malnourished and his tiny body couldn’t handle all of it. After that, Flame had taken upon himself to feed Wemmbu smaller amounts of food, slowly building it up over time as Wemmbu got healthy.
During that, because Wemmbu couldn’t communicate his name to them, the brothers started calling him Lilac. They had explained that it was because his skin was the colour of said flower. Wemmbu, who had never seen a lilac before, decided it was good enough until he could talk. Although he didn’t like how he was being called a flower all the time, so he was determined to relearn how to speak as soon as possible.
To stop Mane from pouting too much about being temporarily banned from feeding Wemmbu, Flame tasked him with helping Wemmbu relearn how to speak.
Mane started with sounds, making each sound of the alphabet for Wemmbu to copy. Then he slowly started introducing small and easy to say words.
“Cat.”
“Ca.”
“Ca-T.”
“Ca- ca-T!”
“Cat.”
“C-cat! Cat!”
“Good job, Lilac!”
“Fuck!”
“FLAME! STOP TEACHING LILAC SWEARS!!!!”
“NEVER!”
Then Mane started teaching Wemmbu more practical words. Mane, Flame, hungry, toilet, tired, happy, sad, scared, the list goes on. Until one day, Wemmbu stopped babbling random words and stared directly at Mane through the mirror as the older one was brushing his hair.
“Lilac,” Mane’s head tilted and his ears twitched, “are you alright?”
Wemmbu’s face turned determined, “W-.”
Mane’s head straightened, listening intently for whatever Wemmbu was trying to say.
“We- Wem…” Wemmbu was growing frustrated with his own vocal cords, who seemed to want him to be called Lilac for the rest of his life.
“Hey, hey,” Mane soothed, his voice soft as he set the brush down and turned Wemmbu towards him, “it’s okay if you can’t get it.”
Wemmbu shook his head, determined to stop being called a flower, “Wem… Wemmb-. Bu. Wemm. Bu! Wemmbu! Wemmbu! Wemmbu!”
Mane’s green eyes started directly into Wemmbu’s purple ones, “Wemmbu?” he repeated.
Wemmbu smiled brightly, bouncing in his chair, “Wemmbu! Me! I Wemmbu!!!”
“You’re Wemmbu?” Mane questioned, “Lilac, is your name Wemmbu?”
“Yes!” Wemmbu squealed as Mane grinned and pulled him into a hug, finally he wouldn’t have to hear that stupid flower name anymore!
~
“Lilac! Breakfast!” Mane called.
Wemmbu groaned. As you can probably tell, his asshole brothers still call him Lilac as a nickname, much to his dismay. Mane does it out of affection, Flame does it just to piss him off. And Wemmbu knows this because of that smug grin that’s always on Flame’s face after he says it.
What a dick.
Wemmbu sat at the table as Mane placed a plate piled up with food in front of him. He groaned, even years later, Wemmbu still couldn’t stomach the large amounts of food that Mane tried to get him to eat. Mane always said it was because he was a growing boy that needed more food, and Wemmbu had to remind him that he wasn’t a lion or tiger hybrid like his brothers. He simply couldn’t fit the large amounts they ate into his stomach. Mane always complained Wemmbu was still too skinny and needed more meat on his bones. Even though Wemmbu was actually a healthy weight.
Mane was a dick too.
Anyway, Wemmbu tried his best to get down as much food as possible with Flame sneaking some off his plate when Mane wasn’t looking to help him out a bit. Mane and Flame finished their food while Wemmbu pushed his half empty plate away and smiled sweetly at his eldest brother. Mane narrowed his eyes but didn’t comment (small victories) and finished off Wemmbu’s plate (we don’t waste food in this household) while Flame washed the dishes and Wemmbu helped dry and put them away.
This was good. Wemmbu had survived on his own and was now being rewarded with a good life, warm home, all the food he could need (and more), clean clothes and his older brothers. What more could he need?
Life was good.
~
Life was not good.
Now, Wemmbu was no stranger to Mane’s training. Mane was ruthless when he was training them, out of love of course. Wemmbu knows that Mane means well, but he sometimes forgets that Wemmbu isn’t like him and Flame. Wemmbu isn’t built for brute strength, he isn’t a tiger or a lion and he isn’t even meant to be whatever the hell he is!
He was born a human.
But that didn’t matter to Mane. Every time they all trained - which was everyday - Mane had nothing but praise for Flame. Flame was strong, naturally gifted and a quick learner. He was the ideal student to teach combat.
Whereas Wemmbu was a disappointment in all things battle orientated. The only thing he really had going for him was his speed and fast reflexes. But even then Flame was better.
And it hurts. Every single day they train and every single day Mane gets more and more frustrated with Wemmbu. His helpful feedback has turned to scathing remarks and borderline insults. And it hurts, because Wemmbu is genuinely trying his best but it’s not working because he’s up against the prodigy that is Flame. There’s no possible way for him to win.
Mane doesn’t see that though. He sees it as Wemmbu not trying hard enough. In his mind, Wemmbu’s slacking. And it really shows as Flame’s constant praise is brought off the training field along with Mane’s sudden coldness towards him.
No longer does his eldest brother brush his hair. He doesn’t pile Wemmbu's plate up with food, doesn’t spend time chatting with him on the couch and doesn't let Wemmbu come to him with his problems anymore.
It hurts.
Flame sees this and tries to fill that void, but every time he attempts to, he’s called away by Mane. They’ve gotten sneakier about it though. Hushed whispers out of Mane’s earshot.
Wemmbu knows that this is Mane's way of toughening him up. Mane’s trying to make the point that if Wemmbu just tries harder, then everything can go back to normal.
But how do you try harder than your hardest?
Why?
Why?
Why?
It’s especially bad when Wemmbu falls ill. It’s definitely from pushing his body beyond its limits while it was raining. The weather was starting to get colder and he never did well in the cold. Now Wemmbu has a fever, his body hurts and all he wants is his big brother.
But Mane turns him away still, “Toughen up, enemies aren’t going to wait for you to feel better.”
“But there’s no enemies here, Mane!” Wemmbu pleads, his voice fading part way through his sentence.
All Mane does is walk past him, ignoring his younger brother's cry of his name.
Wemmbu leaned against the wall outside of Mane’s room for a moment before staggering back to his own and collapsing on top of his bed. Half his body leaned over the edge and his face was nowhere near his pillows but Wemmbu couldn’t find it in himself to care.
He was tired and in pain, physically and emotionally. He let himself drift into a fitful slumber as tears dried on his cheeks.
~
“Wemmbu?” a muffled voice called as a hand settled on his burning forehead, “Wake up, Lilac. You need to eat.”
Wemmbu whined as he opened his eyes, the soft light from a lantern burning his eyes as if he were staring directly into the sun. He took a moment to get his bearings straight. He was still in his room, except he was sitting on someone's lap.
For a moment, Wemmbu thought Mane had finally given in. Thought his brother had come to make everything all better just like he used to. But then he noticed the absence of a fluffy mane and realised he was in Flame’s lap instead. It shouldn’t have made him as upset as he was.
Wemmbu began to quietly cry again as the pain in his burning body made itself known again.
Flame wiped a cold cloth against the younger's fevered forehead as he hushed the boy, “It’s gonna be alright, Lilac.” he soothed, laying down against the headboard with Wemmbu curled up against his side, “Everything’s going to be fine.”
“Hurts.” Wemmbu heaved between shuddering sobs and deep breaths, “Want Mane.”
Flame grimaced, “I know, Wem. I know, but Mane’s… busy.” he lied.
Wemmbu knew he was lying and Flame knew that Wemmbu knew. But it was easier to lie than to say the truth out loud.
“Flame?” Wemmbu whispered after the sobbing had calmed down.
“Yeah, Lilac?” Flame hummed, running a clawed hand through the younger's sweaty hair.
“Why does Mane hate me?”
~
Oh.
This was very much out of Flame’s pay grade. This was eldest brother stuff that Flame was not qualified to deal with. But he had to deal with it because Mane was being an asshole.
“Mane doesn’t hate you, Lilac.” Flame said truthfully.
And it was the truth, because Flame knew that Mane was standing outside Wemmbu’s bedroom door right now. He knew that Mane had been distracted all day during training and meals, that his head had constantly drifted towards the direction of Wemmbu’s room, that Mane had come when Wemmbu should have been asleep to check up on their younger brother’s fever and make him take some medicine.
Because even while trying to be strict with his affection towards Wemmbu, he still loved and worried about him. Their little Lilac, found deep in the jungle so close to withering away, yet had bloomed into a beautiful - healthy - flower. And now that flower’s starting to shrivel up once again because of Manepear’s stupid pride.
“Then why won’t he talk to me how he used to? He’s so… mean, now.”
It’s a childish way to explain it, but Wemmbu was a child. He’s only just reaching 13 years old, barely a teen. And not only was Mane acting like Wemmbu was reaching adulthood, he’s forgetting that Wemmbu’s only cosmetically a demon. He doesn’t have the strength of a demon, the speed, the intellect, for all intents and purposes Wemmbu is just a human boy. And all Wemmbu wants is his brother to come comfort him while he’s sick.
And Flames trying his best, really he is, but he’s not equipped for this kind of stuff. He doesn’t do the emotional things, that was always Mane’s thing.
Flame has half a mind to storm out of the room and scream at Mane to fix his mess.
“Mane… Lion’s tend to value strength in their prides,” Flame starts to explain, “and as a hybrid, Mane wants his cubs - that’s you and me - to be strong. In the eyes of his instincts, strong equals safety.”
“But I’m not a lion hybrid. I’m not even technically a hybrid.” Wemmbu cuts in.
“I know,” Flame soothes, “this isn’t me trying to excuse his actions. Mane’s been a dick to you and can’t seem to see past his own astronomically large and empty head.”
Flame meant the insult but Wemmbu seems to think it’s a joke as he giggles before his chest forces out a painful cough. Flame doesn’t even complain when Wemmbu coughs directly into the taller's shoulder, spreading his germs to his brother. He just gently pats his back as Wemmbu starts to settle again.
See, Flame can be nice!
“Don’t worry about Mane right now,” Flame eases out from under his brother, tucking the boy into the blankets and laying another wet cloth on his forehead, “I’m going to get you some soup, just rest until I get back.”
Wemmbu whines as his heat source is taken away, but exhaustion wins as he drifts off. It’s not a peaceful sleep, but it’s the best he’s going to get while his fever’s still so high.
Flame smiles one last time at the sleeping figure before frowning and making his way to the door, and more importantly to the man behind the door.
~
Mane’s been distracted all day worrying about his brother. Wemmbu had come to him crying this morning about not feeling well and truthfully, he didn’t look it either. When Wemmbu had come to him, his lilac coloured skin was pale and had taken on a green tinge. He was sweaty and his eyes were glazed over. Not to mention his voice. It was fading in and out in a way that it hadn’t since he started to learn how to speak again.
And, okay! He can admit that it was a completely dick move to dismiss Wemmbu the way he did. He knows. But he couldn’t help it, he wanted his brother to be strong and able to protect himself, it wouldn’t help if Mane was constantly coddling him.
But… the way he cried out Mane’s name when the man left him made him feel like a huge asshole, because that’s his baby. And he made his baby cry when Wemmbu already wasn’t feeling well.
But Mane had to steel himself, he promised that when Wemmbu was asleep tonight, he’d sneak into his room to check on him and leave him some food and medicine.
And that’s exactly what he was doing right now! But he saw Wemmbu’s door open and the faint light of a lantern spilling out of the room. He looked across the hall and saw Flame’s empty room and sighed to himself.
‘I told him to leave his brother alone, why do none of these kids want to listen to me?’
Mane walked towards Wemmbu’s room, ready to drag Flame out before continuing on with what he had planned to do when suddenly-
“Why does Mane hate me?”
Mane froze.
Lilac reached his little arms up to Mane, and the lion almost squealed. Despite the fact that Lilac was still very underweight for his age (or what the brothers assume his age is), his cheeks had started to fill out, making the boy look adorable when he pouts.
“Up!” he demanded. Somehow, Lilac picks up demanding words much easier than normal words.
Mane, who is apparently a weak man, immediately caved to the not-so request, “Okay Lilac, up you go!”
Mane picked up his new younger brother, who buried his face into the lion's shoulder with a soft purr. Mane’s pretty sure Lilac was just mimicking what he’s heard him and Flame do but who really knows? Maybe demons purr too?
The lion hybrid’s grin softened as Lilac wrapped his tail around Mane’s arm, his weight growing slightly more heavy as the boy drifted off to sleep. Mane turned his head to the window as his hand ran through Lilac’s hair.
“Well,” he hummed quietly, “I guess it is past your naptime.”
The older boy placed a gentle kiss on top of the younger's head, “Sleep well, little Lilac of mine.”
Wemmbu giggled, holding up a wild ocelot that he had seemingly just… yoinked?? From the ground??? And it was chill with him apparently????
“It’s you!” he squealed in his broken English.
Mane puffed out a small laugh, “Me? No, Wem. I’m a lion, that’s a cat.”
Wemmbu stuck his tongue out at his brother as he cradled the ocelot like a baby (why was this thing just letting him do this?? They normally run when anyone gets too close!), “Same difference!”
“I don’t think that means what you think it means…” Flame snickered.
“Bitch!”
“WEMMBU! NO SWEARING! I KNOW YOU KNOW WHAT SWEARS ARE!”
“MANE!!!” Wemmbu whined as he ran to hide behind his oldest brother, “MAKE HIM STOP!”
Flame barreled into the room as Mane wished a silent goodbye to his peace and quiet, “Come on, Wem! It’s fun!”
Wemmbu gripped Mane’s arm with another whine. The older man winced as claws dug into his skin. Wemmbu’s claws had just started to grow in and he didn’t have the best control over them. They also hurt Wemmbu a lot, so the boy was more irritable at the moment, something Flame was loving.
“What’s going on?” Mane asked, gently unhooking Wemmbu’s claws from his arm and rubbing the irritated bases in hopes of calming him down.
“HE WANTS TO THROW ME IN THE LAKE!” Wemmbu accused.
Mane looked outside, “But it’s the middle of winter? You’d freeze and then get sick.”
“EXACTLY!”
Flame grinned, “It’s just some brotherly bonding.”
Wemmbu hissed at him and Mane wondered - not for the first time - if demons were actually felines or if Wemmbu just mimics them out of habit.
Mane moved Wemmbu so he was standing cradled between the man's arms, a cute gesture if you didn’t know that Mane was doing it in case Wemmbu lunged at their stupid brother.
“Flame, leave your brother alone.” he spoke sternly, causing the teen to pout, “And Wemmbu, calm down. He’s just being a jerk to rile you up.”
Flame started whining while Wemmbu started laughing. Mane smiled at his dumb younger brothers.
His baby, his lilac who he loved with all his heart…
Thought that Mane hated him?
Sure Mane’s been more strict lately, and a bit distant, but he loves both his brothers! Tell him Flame! Tell Wemmbu that he’s wrong!
“Mane doesn’t hate you, Lilac.”
See! Even Flame knows! Mane could never hate his little lilac. A flower that didn’t belong to the jungle but still bloomed so beautifully against the bright green biome! When Mane brought Wemmbu home that day, he promised that he’d nurture that flower and never let it wither again. Has he failed?
“Then why won’t he talk to me how he used to? He’s so… mean, now.”
It’s such a childish thing to say and Mane almost instinctively attempts to correct him, ‘you’re not a kid anymore’.
But that’s a lie, because Wemmbu is a kid. Not even 13 yet. He’s just a baby.
“Mane… Lion’s tend to value strength in their prides,” Flame starts to explain, “and as a hybrid, Mane wants his cubs - that’s you and me - to be strong. In the eyes of his instincts, strong equals safety.”
That’s true, he just wants to give them the best possible start to life. He means well, really he does, he just wants the cubs to be healthy and strong!
“But I’m not a lion hybrid. I’m not even technically a hybrid.”
That’s… also true. Sometimes Mane forgets that Wemmbu is still really a human. His strength isn’t something that can ever compare to that of a hybrids on its own. Sure with enchanted armour and weapons, humans can stand a chance, but without them…
Oh.
Oh.
He fucked up. Mane fucked up really bad. Wemmbu is basically a human, despite his appearance. Putting him up against a trained hybrid like Flame and expecting him to win sometimes isn’t fair. And down right impossible.
Fuck. Wemmbu had been trying his best. He’d been working himself to exhaustion, hell he’s probably sick right now because of all the training.
FUCK.
How could he do this?! To his baby brother? Sure watering a flower helps it grow, but if you water it too much it’ll just drown.
He’s been drowning his lilac.
Flame shoved him out of the way and glared at him as he walked down the stairs towards that kitchen.
“Fix it.” he whispered harshly before silently storming away.
All Mane did was stare into the room of his littlest brother. Wemmbu was laying down in the middle of the small bed with a wet cloth on his head. His breathing was deep and raspy, as if he was struggling to get enough air into his chest. He coughed harshly every once and a while, face pained as he slept.
This wasn’t a good place for a cub to recover. It was too cold and there weren't enough blankets or pillows. The small bed could barely fit both of his younger brothers. He needs to be somewhere else.
Den, Mane’s instincts whispered, cub in den now.
Mane couldn’t agree more.
~
It didn’t take long to relocate Wemmbu to Mane’s room. He was able to carry his brother in one hand and the bowl of cold water Flame was using to get Wemmbu’s fever down in the other. Now Wemmbu was snug against Mane’s side in the large nest-like bed, buried under blankets and bracketed by pillows. A fresh cloth on his head.
Flame had left some soup and medicine beside Mane before running off to have a shower with a promise of being back later. That left Mane to wake up and feed his littlest cub.
“Lilac…” Mane called softly, pulling Wemmbu up to sit against his chest, “Come on, Lilac, time for dinner.”
Wemmu groaned and turned his face into Mane’s shoulder, “Noooooo…”
Mane huffed, “Yeeeeeeeees…”
Wemmbu whined and fought to open his eyes, blankly taking in the change in scenery. This wasn’t his room, it looked more like… Mane’s?
“Hey,” the soft voice of his brother brought tears to his eyes, as Wemmbu hadn’t heard it directed at him in weeks, “time for dinner and medicine.”
“Mane?” Wemmbu hiccuped through tears.
Mane hushed the younger as he ran a hand through the sweaty hair, “calm down. It’s okay, I’m here.”
Obviously not the best thing to say to someone on the verge of a breakdown, Mane.
Wemmbu took a deep breath and Mane foolishly thought that he had calmed down. What a dumbass. His younger brother then let out an absolutely heartbreaking wail and sobbed until he couldn’t breathe anymore.
And man, if Mane didn’t already feel like an asshole before, he sure does now.
Mane hugged Wemmbu close, rocking back and forth while purring in an attempt to calm him down. After five minutes, Mane was starting to get worried Flame was going to barge in with a sword and try to take his head off for upsetting their younger brother so much when he was meant to be taking care of him.
But Wemmbu did eventually calm down. So Mane reached over to the side table and brought over a glass of cold water, helping Wemmbu drink it to try to soothe his throat. He then brought over the warm soup and set it on Wemmbu’s lap before taking the spoon and starting to feed his brother.
It was quiet and peaceful when Flame came into the room, still glaring at his older brother for upsetting the youngest so much. Wemmbu had finished his soup and Mane was helping him take his medicine. Normally, that was the hardest part when Wemmbu’s sick. That boy absolutely despised the taste of medicine. However, he was worn out and took it without complaint before being lowered down in between his brothers.
He tried to stay awake, sensing that they needed to talk, but Mane’s large hand covered his eyes as Flame whispered, “We’ll talk in the morning, rest now.”
His eyes finally closed, his aching body relaxed and something in his chest finally released making it so he could breathe easier.
It’s going to be okay.
~
They didn’t end up talking in the morning as Wemmbu’s fever had him knocked out the entire day, but they did get around to it when he was better.
Although, while he was still a little delirious, Wemmbu did end up admitting, “I’m happy you didn’t eat me that day.”
He had said this with a straight face, petting Mane's head before promptly passing out and leaving one brother in confusion and the other laughing his ass off.
Moral of the story, please talk about your problems instead of bottling it up until it’s too late, don’t be like this trio of dumbasses.