"Neither will I. For this there is no cure. Each season my attachment to you grows stronger. This is problematic for my position in the flock."
"What are you saying?"
"I'm saying, love, that I am stepping down."
"Dolphus, you can't. The flock needs you."
"Yes, Shi, but not as a guardian; as a guide. You and I must share this miracle of how we are together so that others may experience it for themselves. It is our legacy."
It was a concept that I hadn't given much thought to outside of childrearing. Obviously, Mari, Lucius, and Draco, and all of their offspring were our legacy, but there was also our contributions to the future generations of the flock. If by some miracle it changed the breeding cycle to allow for more offspring to be born, then that would really be something to have passed along.
Once the weather broke and spring was nearing, Lucius requested to accompany the young Baltian-Timaean couple on their trip to Timaeus. I was concerned, as any mother would be, about him traveling so far from home, but I kept it mostly to myself. Dolphus convinced me that Lucius was no longer a lambkin and quite capable of caring for himself. Somehow that mattered very little to me as I waited for him to return. He would never be too grown for me to worry about his safety, I decided.
With Agda and Draco so close in age, not even separated by a full season, and essentially growing up in the same home, they developed a very interesting relationship. Like most siblings might act, they argued and rivaled, sometimes so viciously that we'd kick them out of the den to go settle it. Unlike most siblings, however, they were inseparable. One never ventured out without the other one.
I worried about what would happen when Draco was pushed out of the satyress circle to go spar with the other young bucks. Agda would not be able to follow him any more than he would be allowed to stay beyond maturity. This practice had never come into question as satyrs do not become attached to one another, typically. Not that you could tell from our family. Dolphus and I were clearly a mated pair, and Mari had chosen Finn as her exclusive mate. There seemed to be something in our bloodline, or maybe it was just the way we were raising our offspring, that seemed to promote that type of behavior.
Draco and Agda's situation brought another question to mind: Is their attachment an early sign of being a mated pair, or are they merely close family members? There were no rules against incest in the flock. It wasn't against the laws of Sibiu to engage in incestuous relations, only to marry one's own sibling or child. Draco and Agda were Uncle and Niece. While it wouldn't be optimal for them to mate, it would be allowed by even the strictest of court systems.
I didn't like the thought of it, though. I continued to try and separate them, if for no other reason than to prepare them for the upcoming split that their situation would create. I was wholly unsuccessful in my efforts. They just found ways around me and no one, not Mari, Finn, nor Dolphus shared my viewpoint on interfering. They were far more willing to allow mother nature to take her course.
It was a lesson that I was struggling to learn. I still clung to some of my childhood teachings. I also held onto the notion of mind over matter; that reason was stronger than emotion. I thought that by explaining the dangers of inbreeding, we might convince them to change their course. It did nothing. When Draco was fully mature, he found a cave dwelling in the grotto area halfway between the Baltian village and our domicile. A month later, Agda joined him there. They announced that they were a mated pair, regardless of not yet producing offspring.
I never thought I'd witness a pairing to rival mine and Dolphus'. Draco and Agda redefined the term. They were sickening to be around, always finishing each other's sentences, fussing after one another, and then passionately kissing as if they'd just been reunited after being apart for years. I honestly felt bad for trying to separate them because they really did belong together.
I began to wonder how much we really chose our mate versus what was predetermined. Had Dolphus really chosen me, or did I produce the exact pheromones that attracted him, thus it was neither his choice, nor mine? And what of Loomis and Haibu? Was their alternative preference born in them, or did they choose it?
Conversations about these very things often kept Dolphus and I up way beyond high moon. His insights and theories on such matters were fascinating to me and I couldn't get enough of them.
Lucius missed another mating season, and I was beginning to wonder if he was ever coming back. I feared we'd lost him forever. But just before the first winter snow, we got word from Mari that he'd returned. With him, he brought a young wife.
We were surprised to hear that he'd gotten married. We discovered that it was the only way he could bring his mate back with him. Like me, Callisto was half Baltian and half Sibian, and her Sibian side of the family insisted on a proper wedding. It made sense, but I was still disappointed, nonetheless, at having been robbed of the opportunity to witness the event. Lucius tried to convince me that it didn't matter; it was just a ceremony. I knew different, having raised him.
Lucius and Callisto settled into our domicile until they could decide where to live. We tried to give them space and privacy, fully knowing what a shock the flock environment probably was for her, but it proved difficult. I hadn't realized how much I'd changed my lifestyle until I saw it through the eyes of a young girl that was me only eight years earlier. My behaviors were more in line with satyr morals than Sibian ones, and my lack of propriety with relation to clothing and sex were highly shocking to her.
Valame and I spent some time preparing Callisto for what to expect as a human mother of a satyr. She and Lucius both needed to be aware of the dangers. I knew she probably wouldn't want to stay with the flock long term, but we managed to convince them to at least stay through their first birthing with people who were experienced at such things. We were thankful for this small miracle.
Mari and Finn had their second lambkin. It was another girl, which surprised everyone. This time when the little satyress began showing signs of independence, they didn't hesitate to work out the same arrangement as Agda. Our den was full to capacity with the addition of Brighid, and I began to realize that there was going to be no end to it. Unlike other satyrs, our grown lambkin gravitated back to our domicile.
Other than the initial awkwardness at mating season, it was lovely having everyone around. Even Dolphus didn't seem to mind it. Having a tight-knit family unit made me feel stronger and safer than I'd ever felt in my life. But I wondered how long it would last.
My half brother, Father and Valame's son, Nuadha, really exemplified the vastly different rates at which a human developed versus a satyr. Nuadha was barely older than a toddler, while my youngest satyr boy, born after him, was already fully grown and recently mated. It illuminated what I thought was an even bigger problem for the survival of the satyr species. Their numbers would have to dramatically increase in order to offset the shorter lifespan.
Dolphus agreed with my assessment but had no solution. He was still tabulating numbers and making predictions. I'd come to find out that Lucius' visit to Timaeus was not only to explore the region of his ancestry and ultimately find a wife, but to connect with a nearby flock and gather information about their numbers. What he brought back was alarming.
The Timaean flock was experiencing the same phenomenon as our flock. Heavy male to female ratio with dwindling numbers overall. Their satyrs had taken to mating with Timaean women with mixed results, but eventually no Timaen woman in her right mind considered such a match for fear of perishing in lambkin birth. The stories that Lucius shared with us were dreadful. They brought emotions to the surface that I had long since buried.
By plotting numbers on a graph, Dolphus and Lucius came to the same conclusion. The Timaen flock would cease to exist very soon, within Lucius' lifetime.
"We should do something, Dolphus. We could share with them what we know about successfully birthing lambkin."
"Non, Shi. We must let this happen."
"Why?"
"It is mother nature's course. It is not our place to decide what species live and die."
"Lucius, were there any pregnant Timaean women while you were there?"
"I don't think so. Besides, we'd never make it in time to do any good."
"He's right, Shi. We can't help them."
"What does this mean for our flock?"
Dolphus sighed heavily. "We are facing the same fate. It will not happen in our lifetimes, but not long after. We are a dying breed."
"It's not fair."
Dolphus pulled me into his arms. "Fairness is a human-created concept. It has no place in nature. You must accept that change is the natural order. By Osmos' will or by the natural earth around us. Either way, it is inevitable."
