The Confidant

***

In a cold cave of stone, upon a bed of furs lay two lissa, embracing. It had been a hard day for Abal, who's neck was now lain against the reliable curve of Osol's. Hard in part because he had much work to do. Hard, because he had been apart from Osol all day.

He breathed deep the scent of his beloved warm-fur. Sweet with sweat, relaxed, healthy. All the things his Osol should be. What Abal needed him to be. Just on the edge of his breath he whined.

"It's alright," cooed Osol into his ear, "you've done excellent today."

"And I'll need to be excellent tomorrow…"

Osol's chuckle reverberated around the cave's smooth walls. "Rest, for now, it's not yet tomorrow."

"No, it's not," Abal conceded. He slowly let out the breath he was holding. He could see it drift from his lips in the chill.

"There, there."

Osol began to gently groom his warm-fur's mane. He combed his teeth through and tugged out anything unfit to stay. A tug here and there, the crunch of a fat insect which had nestled deep, the calming breath of his friend weaving through his hairs. Abal couldn't help but squirm.

"Be at my side tomorrow, I am in need of your wit," he said.

"And not my company?" Osol only half pretended to be offended.

"…and your company. There's a matter at hand discipline alone may not solve."

"And to think," said Osol, "that you are still our leader."

Abal chuffed and shifted his paws. "It's a strange disagreement. That's all. I don't want to risk any suffering of morale."

His warm-fur's face lit with opportunity. Osol liked a challenging puzzle… He paused grooming to nuzzle at Abal's face with his whiskers. "Tell me."

A long sigh.

"Well… Noro and Felvas usually get along fine. They're hardworking lissa. Now they're butting heads? Over scentmarks no less! Why should they bicker over that when they already trip on eachother's tails? At this rate their marks might as well be one and the same. Pups, the both of them…"

"Abal dear, didn't they only just mature a year ago?"

"Yes."

"Osol began to chuckle again, and Abal narrowed his eyes.

"What? I've seen younger lissa handle themselves fine."

"You don't suppose they've both got the want for someone?"

Abal said nothing.

"It's earlysun, love. They're young and warmed."

"…Then why not bed with one another and be done with this shalecrack?"

"A prettier prize has caught their eye."

"This is why I need you. You see what I can't."

"And you devise plans I haven't the patience for," replied Osol. "I tease, but you're not simple."

Abal braced himself to rise, thought better of it, and slumped against the other lissa even deeper. He stared at the entrance to the cave, watching the light glint off of the ice and snow outside. He had pullboats to examine, shipments to confirm, ice teams to coordinate, he had yet to eat his evening meal—

Still, he allowed himself rest. Much of that could wait for tomorrow. For now, the bedding was warm and his partner even warmer, his keen and clever Osol who could dismantle any quarrel. Who looked at him and saw not the great stone cold leader, but a lissa with heart. He was all he needed to be, here.

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