Author Notes: This came to me in a flash one night. Both the sky bison themselves and the role of women in the Air Temples fascinate me. So I stuck the two of them together. Hope you enjoy this one. And yes, Devi is what I named the apple-bowl-holding person in "Appa's Lost Days".
1.
Nothing is as miraculous and powerful as watching a bison give birth.
Chanda's discomfort is obvious; the great beast rolls from side to side where she lays, groaning loudly as the labour pangs come and go. This is the most difficult part. The bison are hardy creatures; only six hours ago Chanda was soaring through the sky and working with Sangmu to herd her fellows into the stables for the night.
But now is her time, and bearing a litter of calves brings even an impudent bison like Chanda to her knees. Now she is unable to do anything save work through the pain she's in as she brings these new calves into the world.
Sangmu watches, biting her lip in worry. Chanda is an old hand at all of this – this one will be her fourth litter in almost thirteen years – but she still finds it disheartening to watch her stubborn and graceful lifelong companion be put through so much.
At this point there is nothing she can do for Chanda except check her progress and to offer soothing pats on the nose and the occasional moon-peach for a treat. Most beasts of Chanda's size and disposition would revert to a feral state when birthing; Sangmu has found in the past that this is true of many of the cows living here at the Temple and has had to delicately assert her presence around them, but Chanda and Sangmu are friends.
Sangmu knows that not only does Chanda tolerate her being there, the bison actually prefers her presence. Every time the airbender would leave the bison's immediate viscinity to water and feed the others, Chanda would mewl and moan until Sangmu returned to take her place at her head. It has been this way for the past three hours, and while Chanda gets more and more anxious, Sangmu is well aware that this is the natural progression of things – that all is proceeding as it should.
"Shh," Sangmu whispers into Chanda's fluffy ear, standing up and scratching the fur around her chopped-off horn. Chanda rights herself suddenly, her massive three-toed paws flexing as though she is trying to gain purchase on the ground. She is trying to steady herself in anticipation of what is coming.
Keeping a hand running through her companion's fur, Sangmu travels down to Chanda's hindquarters and is amused to note that the first calf's head is almost all the way through: a tiny, soaked mop of white fur with the typical brown arrow marking it, the shiny, bulbous nose and stumpy horns; eyes that look around dazedly at the new, bright world it finds itself in.
Sangmu smiles as this first calf is dumped unceremoniously on the ground. It raises itself on its front paws a little shakily and blinks slowly. The airbender moves in and grabs the new arrival, keeping him – yes, a quick check verifies that this first calf is a boy – from being squished as his siblings make their way out into the world. Sangmu will move the newborn to a safe place at Chanda's head, and he can get to know his mother there.
But this one is feisty; he can't walk quiet yet and so Sangmu must scoop him up – he's only the size of a feeding trough at this age and she can cradle him – and he does not like this. He mewls in her arms and uses his tiny tail to bend little torrents of air in a vain attempt to get her to let him go. For this one moment, Sangmu is bigger than he is, and will press that advantage to get him to where he needs to be.
The calf seems to resign himself to the fact that this momentary indignity will happen whether he likes it or not, and sticks his tongue out and licks the woman across the face repeatedly. She giggles, finally reaching Chanda's head, and sets him down on his shaky feet, rubbing his head affectionately, wondering what she'll name him.
It is customary that the bison receive a name as soon as possible – they are remarkably intelligent and self-aware creatures and must be strong in their own identity to bond with young airbenders at their first birthday – and normally Sangmu has no problem doing this. Chanda had been named not by Sangmu, who would be her eventual companion, but by Devi, the now aged nun under whom Sangmu had apprenticed to become a bison keeper.
"Names are important," Devi had always said. "They are how we know who we are, and how we know others. When a young airbender bonds with his bison, he does not name it. That would mean that the bison is nothing more than a pet, a possession. The nature of the relationship between airbender and bison is not one of servant and master; rather, it is one of friendship and mutual growth. As such, it is necessary for the bison to know who she is just as it is necessary for the airbender to know who he is. Therefore, never forget to name a new calf."
She's stuck on a name for this one. For some reason his spirit and feisty manner warrants an exceptional name and she mulls it over even as Chanda brings his siblings into the world and names each of them in turn: Kali, Tenzin, Chopak, Feng.
Sangmu doesn't leave now that the calves are born. She stays a few hours longer, reassuring Chanda and watching that unnamed firstborn's tenacity and playfulness, searching for a name.
When one does occur, it's a very strange name, but it speaks of the same attributes she'd noticed in him right away. In a sense, it defines him.
Appa.