Daraego
Prologue – The Crash
Kira watched the storm rage, it was unseasonably angry. The wind howled as dark clouds gathered above, swirling endlessly till a core blacker than night formed. Lightning scorched the sky. She saw it then, the broken fuselage and the burning wings of a craft hurtling to the ground. Her hand shielded her eyes as she watched the trajectory of its fall, blazing passed high overhead and down into the stony valley behind her home.
She turned and ran, throwing herself through the front door in a panicked search for Graydor, she would need his help. He jumped as she slammed into the kitchen where he was preparing their evening meal. She grabbed his arm, pulling him urgently toward the door.
"What is it?" he grumbled, trying to extricate himself from her grip. "Kira?" Graydor's tone grew more concerned as he stared into her eyes, reading her desperation and fear. "Daraego?" he asked in a whisper.
Kira shook her head irritably. Not yet, she thought and pulled all the harder. But it will not take them long.
The rain had started in the brief moments she'd been inside. It hammered down, swiftly soaking them both as they clambered over the boulder strewn terrain following the thick smoke that rose from the valley below.
Graydor said nothing more until they made it to the edge of the crash site a short time later. A deep trench had been carved into the ground with the impact of the air craft. Smouldering debris littered the ground. Kira started forward, but Graydor caught her arm. "We shouldn't be here," he said worriedly. "They'll be coming."
She looked at him, her resolve clear. She wasn't going anywhere - not until she'd looked for survivors.
"The likely hood of anyone being alive…" Graydor began, knowing her thoughts. He let the statement hang as he surveyed the wreckage. He knew it wouldn't make any difference. Kira pulled her arm free and rested her hand on his shoulder in comfort before making her way forward again. "A craft this small," he said, following protectively behind her, "we're looking for one, maybe two pilots."
She nodded her agreement, signalling for him to check the perimeter before ducking under the twisted remains of a wing. She didn't recognise the technology - it seemed advanced however, though clearly not capable of surviving the continuous storms of Intraverrian skies. As if to prove the point the sky lit with a tremendous blast illuminating the entire area for a split second. The roar of thunder that followed was enough to shake the ground and she flinched as damaged wiring sparked furiously beside her.
Another sudden flash rent the air, but this time Kira glimpsed the outline of something red several feet away. She rushed over kneeling beside a pile of fractured metal. The ship's pilot was trapped face down beneath; it was his hair she had seen, thick and red, hiding his features from view. His bloodied free hand was outstretched, his fingers frozen in the act of clawing at the wet dirt. He'd either passed out or died trying to free himself. To have enough will to try after such a crash? Kira was awe struck at the possibility.
Instantly she began removing the rubble that held him, casting it aside in such frenzy that her actions brought Graydor back to her side.
"Alive?" he asked, seeing the pilot's arm for himself and began helping her shift some of the final larger pieces of debris. Kira certainly hoped so.
She knelt down, lowering her ear close enough to listen for a breath. She looked up at Graydor, unsure. It was too hard to judge with the swirling storm about them. A quick assessment and she deemed it necessary to turn the pilot over – gently as they could manage between them. He was heavier than he looked wearing a strange set of blue steel-like armour.
Her wide eyes fixed on his face as his sodden hair fell away.
He was like her. How could that be?
She'd never seen another of her kind before in her life.
She looked up at Graydor hoping for answers, but his expression simply mirrored her own surprise and concern.
Seconds passed and Kira shook off her confusion. With shaking fingers she reached out to check for a pulse and found one, faint, but steady. As for the extent of his other injuries she could do little with them out in the treacherous wilderness with Daraego potentially bearing down on them at any moment.
She looked up at Graydor again, this time pleading. She knew he would be unhappy about it, but she couldn't leave this Cat to be taken. After a moment of fighting her gaze Graydor grudgingly nodded in agreement and reached down to help carry the injured stranger home.