Chapter 5
Szhe’ka
I wake up to darkness and a smell that I can only describe as ground, far too concentrated and heavy than I am used to.
My head throbs and when I try to move, my bones feel as if they have been taken away from me and put back, and a sharp pain shoots through my wings.
I attempt to stretch them out but the pain makes me yelp.
It hurts too much to move and despite the drumming in the front of my head, I force myself to remember how I got here.
The memory of being caged floods back—the red blur of Tch’tek’s falling form, Nnaiv’s sorrowful song and the smell of death itself.
Then silence and pain.
My back starts to throb again as I force myself to recall what happened after. The scent of trespassers, the rancid gas released into my face over and over again. More darkness and even more pain. Nothing else comes to mind and I am only exhausting myself trying to think.
So I stop and look around.
I can tell I’m in the middle of a forest, with the canopy above nearly blocking out the stars.
This does not resemble my home planet; I have never seen trees like this before, only occasionally while flying low and at the time they all looked the same to me—a solid layer of green-brown that spelled danger due to the predators lurking within.
I start to feel caged but the air is cool. There is occasional rustling not too far from me. My body is still but my eyes follow the sound through a thicket of bright, feathery green. It moves too fast for me and I only see a wiry tail scurry between bright-green bristly bushes.
I let out the breath I was holding as I immediately recognize that I have been dumped in the understory. A place none of us willingly go.
Nnaiv’s warning of trespassers echoes through my head and I remember that he is dead.
As much as I want to call out to whichever of my brothers might be around me, I know that it is unwise. The trespassers might still be lurking somewhere close by, and although I know death will come, I do not want it to be by their evil weapons.
From where I am lying, I push apart the leaves in front of me and see that it is a clear path.
I look upward and see that the trees in this area are sparse. If I fly up to survey, maybe I can find somewhere to settle and soothe the near blinding ache in my wings. I brace myself into a sitting position and shut my eyes tightly, willing my wings open.
The pain forces a sound from my mouth and immediately I know that something is wrong.
My wings, they feel lighter.
I turn to look at them and I see that they have been cut off. Where once spanned beautiful wings of blue-spotted yellow, with flashes of red, now only messy stumps remain. They were not kind with their removal. I reach my hands out to touch them but I cannot bring myself to.
For fear of finding out that I am not still slumbering.
My wings, my pride as a member of the flock, have been cruelly ripped away from me; where they once spread wide, they have been shortened by the hateful hearts of greedy trespassers. I cannot help the woeful tune that escapes my lips at the rush of memory just before all of this was taken from me.
I am no longer complete.
Leaping off the aerie and flying with my brothers, things I will never experience again.
The sky was my domain and the ground was barely ever a thought in my head.
The hills that I once traversed, my eyes will never see again.
My freedom has been taken from me in a way that I would never have imagined possible, and there is no one to blame for it, not even myself.
Still, I want to survive.
I am weak and my throat is dry, so I allow my thirst to move me to my feet, quietly making my way through the brambles and bushes, holding them apart so that they do not harm my already damaged wings.
I stumble toward the clearing but just before I enter it I hear the familiar scurrying again and a beam of red light pointed in the same corner I saw the slim tailed creature run into. It is followed by a sharp crack that makes my left ear start to ring.
I draw in a pained breath and retreat farther into the strange forest, standing as still as I can manage.
Something big moves toward me and I close my eyes tightly. My nose catches a scent that is familiar and I realize that it is a trespasser, one of the ones who are responsible for killing my brothers and removing my wings.
Before I can let rage consume me, I remind myself that I am not strong enough to fight, and I do not want to lose the last of my honor at their mercy. The alien hesitates for a moment before saying something to itself in its own language and moving away.
I shimmy backward until my back hits something solid and I am scared that I have run into further danger until I turn and see that it is just a tree. I sink to my knees and sit at its base, wrapping my injured arms around myself and feeling the dark ground cool against my legs.
A warm, gentle wind blows against the feathers on my head and it is the first soothing thing I have felt since I woke up so I sit in it and allow it to wash over me. It is so much more humid down here than I am used to but I have no choice but to focus on the first non-panicked thought I can.
The momentary peace allows me to take in my surroundings more readily.
I begin to notice the overwhelming purple-ness of everything around me; thick, overly bright-green foliage hangs all around me, sprouting out of massive brown trunks themselves covered in wiry purple vines; the floor itself being a deep brown-red color tinted by browning fallen leaves, a stark contrast to the intense yellow and white of the skies and mountains I am used to.
Even the almost stagnant river that lazily wound its way through the alien forest to my left is tinted a purple color.
It is going to take some getting used to.
I know that I must move before the trespassers return but I don’t know what direction to start heading in.
I am not built for the ground so I have to think and listen for signs of predators.
I vaguely remember the conversation I had with Nnaiv earlier concerning the aliens on the ground and my heart bleeds some more at the memory of what was lost.
My drums thrum with the sound of a heavy thud above and I look up to see a silver container lodged in a branch of another monstrous tree a small distance away from me.
I am not curious enough to check what it is because some part of me knows that it must be a trespasser. The machine is small and unmoving and I catch myself wondering whether the alien within it is still alive. There is no need to find out, I tell myself.
Its kind will soon come looking and I do not want to be here when they do.
I struggle to get up from my sitting position and venture in the direction opposite to both locations of the aliens, knowing that I can only hope I do not run into them before I can find a place to rest.
The journey is long and relentlessly painful, taking me into the thicker clusters of the wilderness.
Here the plants are different colors, the ones at the top are still bright green but the ones at the bottom are deeper purple. The leaves and brambles are unforgiving, slashing against my legs and body. This does not hurt as much as the uncomfortable thrumming of my feet.
Members of the flock were not created for land.
My legs were not built for traversing the harsh lands of this grainy terrain.
It scrapes against my feet and I can feel the wounds starting to form.
This makes for painful movement and I try to ease it by walking on the sides and supporting myself with my lower set of arms but it makes no difference and I fall forward on my face.
I feel helpless in a way that I have not since I was a fledgling and I want to call out for someone—anyone at all—who can save me from this but I know I am properly and utterly alone.
I watched the extermination of my flock and heard their mournful death songs.
I want to lie on the ground until my body becomes one with it but I have to keep moving. So I beckon on the wisdom of Nnaiv, the brash bravery of Tch’tek, and the strength of my flockmates to guide me through these unfamiliar lands.
This may not be my home, but I will find a way through it until I succumb. I will not let a trespasser have the satisfaction of killing me before grounding does.
I walk on the uneven ground until I hear the sound of running water babbling toward me from somewhere nearby.
My hands push the leaves and their branches out of the way and I continue until the intrusive branches give way to boggy, wet soil and then to the banks of the river I had seen from a distance.
I don’t know where I find strength but I forget my many injuries and nearly break into a run.
I collapse into the water; the immediate relief to my wounds is almost too intense but I catch myself before I can make a sound, just in case there are any trespassers around me.
I drink with my drums on alert and once my thirst is quenched, I survey the land before me.
I don’t know how long I will have to keep on my feet or whether I can do it, but I am determined to try.
Despite my extreme reluctance, I cannot remain here too long.
Even one such as me, being so unfamiliar with the world on the ground and its customs, knows it is unwise to tarry too long at a watering hole such as this for predators to lurk in.
Besides, those trespassers could realistically circle back here at any time and I am in no condition to weather any sort of battle.
I am going to have to leave.
I walk out of the water, slightly energized, prepared to keep moving. If not for myself, then for my brothers in the flock and the Shi’ell that fell in defense of them. Better to find a hole to die in than to give the trespassers the satisfaction.