Chapter 27
Szhe’ka
It is unusual, being able to produce the sound of a different being, but I am managing well. Ani seems pleased about this since she is not picking her words as much so I can understand her.
Ani is frustrated about something. Beyond my brimming annoyance about Azoeul’s presence, there’s a deeper emotion I’m unwilling to admit.
I don’t want him that close to her. Her tiny fingers go to pinch at her small nose and for a moment I want to lurch forward and stop her from cutting off her air.
Her face is an even brighter yellow when she turns to me.
Her words have been harsh, but fair. His presence is upsetting, and yet I want every rising note and for her to leave the air silent for others.
Why do I want more of her every moment even though she’s right in front of me? Why do I crave more of her even though I can feel her in my arms? It’s a feeling that escapes me whenever I try to hold on to it.
Do I not like him?
If she had asked me before, I would have had some valid excuse, like him being a complete stranger, and it would have made sense, but that is not the problem, and she senses it.
My Ani senses that there is something else to my anger and it makes me feel a little annoyed that I allowed my feelings to even get to this point.
Her pointed look at me expects an answer and I have to give it to her but when I open my mouth, I cannot find the right words.
The thing is, if he had another reason to come down here, I would have been grateful, respected him even.
I already feel incapable of protecting Ani and he rushes in here because he is worried for our safety.
What irks me the most is that he is not wrong.
I am too weak to protect the one person I care about. I am nothing without my wings.
He is doing what I can’t. I keep chanting that to myself until the odd feelings cool. Until the thought of Azoeul no longer makes me want to scrape my talons against a rock.
When he re-enters our hideout, I am ready to offer a hand of brotherhood to him. However, he is dripping wet and both his hands are occupied with fish, most likely caught from the stream.
“I caught dinner.”
He drops the fish down and rushes out before I have the chance to speak, leaving Ani and I confused but amused.
When Azoeul returns, he carries with him tree seeds, a few different kinds of leaves and some sticks. He sets up a small fire and hands the sticks to Ani and I, requesting that she spear the fish.
She takes up the stick one by one, driving them through fish by fish before handing it to him. He nods, rubs them with a few of the leaves and places it over the flame. I repeat the actions and soon we are down to a routine of spearing fish and letting them roast.
Once we are finished, we settle back and watch him turn the sticks back and forth. His body is stiff and he is faced slightly away from me and I know it’s my fault.
I need to make peace.
My disagreements with my brothers never went past a few moments, as we had peace rituals like flying and catching thermals together.
Seeing as I don’t have flight anymore and he is a grounded creature, there is no way of that happening.
While I am having this internal debate with myself, Ani notices and places her hand over one of mine.
I clear my throat. “Many regrets, Azoeul. I did not trust you before,” I say and Ani’s hands tighten around mine, her pleasant face lifting into something new…
Is that her happy expression? The sight of it warms me just as much as I imagined.
“I understand,” he replies in his dead words, no hint to his emotion. “I would feel the same.”
His face morphs into an expression somewhat similar to my Ani’s.
Looking away, he pulls a wide, bright-green leaf and places a browned fish on it, tearing it open and throwing the innards out.
He places some of the tree seeds on top and hands it to me—some kind of peace offering, I presume.
I accept it and he prepares one for Ani and then himself.
We eat in silence, all of us focused on replacing our lost energy. She finishes her first meal right after me and immediately requests more.
“Glad you asked,” I jest at her and she laughs. We wait with baited breaths until he lets out a dry chuckle and refills our leaves.
After we have had our fill, all three of us wander out to the stream to wash the grime off our hands and stay to watch the strange sky and the stars. They twinkle with such a fervor that makes me develop newfound appreciation for them, as if I have never seen them in this way before.
It is ironic that at a time when I was closer to the sky, my family would lie outstretched under the night sky and spend hours finding shapes in the stars. I took these things for granted, never wanting to study the night sky with my brothers because I supposedly had better things to do.
Ani starts a conversation, asking us to tell our favorite stories we were told as fledglings and Azoeul decides to go first.
He tells a tale of his people, strong and fast, and how they were once a small nation of fairly peace loving and docile people until an invasive species of aliens came down from the skies and forced them into slavery for many years.
His peace-loving people didn’t even once think of revolt but instead grew strong under the oppression of their slave masters.
One day after the slaughter of an infant, his people rose up as one and washed the land clean of their former slave drivers in a flood of violence as alien to them as the people they visited it upon.
His tale is inspiring, and Ani says I am next so I force myself to remember all of the grand tales Nnaiv used to be popular for telling. I decide to tell the story of the Blue One.
Brightest of her aerie, though her sisters pecked at her shine. When she scented the coming talon-shadow, she cried warning, but her song went unheeded.
So in the hush of sleep she slipped from the perch and met the great dark-wing of the neighboring Shi’ell alone. She could not break him, but she drew him away, her alarm-song tearing the night until our aerie woke and rose.
Her death song she sang before dawn. Yet from that day, none named her smallest again. Only strongest.
“Beautiful story, Szhe’ka,” Ani cheers and Azoeul agrees.
Ani tells us a confusing story of prey riding the back of a predator across a river as Azoeul and I share quick, confused glances. For the first time, I see the utility of Azoeul’s language when there are no harmonics to betray the lie when I compliment her.
“I need to patrol tonight. We might be far from the hunters camp but they are good at what they do.”
Ani’s body trembles at the mention of the hunters but she shakes it off before we can express our worries.
“I will watch next,” I say, unwilling to be left out. Azoeul agrees and we watch him go off.
Watching his retreating back, I have other things to worry about, such as making a nest for Ani and I. Watching over her while she sleeps would give me more time to appreciate the beauty of her anatomy.