It was Martel that first suggested that I tame the protazoan. Not out of affection, actually, although that feeling was certainly there—she always loved animals. But this time, her connection with the strange creature was bred purely from need.
We were lost, somewhere in the woods. Back then, the forests seemed endless, huge swathes of woodland that no longer exist in the divided worlds. The separating of the lands broke apart the forest, just as mountains split and countries divided. But in those days, the woods stretched out to touch one another, one broad band sweeping around the entire world, ringing the planet with deep, greening mana. The elves hid there. So did we, when we were driven out of villages that met two lost children with fear and loathing when we went begging at their doors. The world was young, but no less cruel. No less dangerous.
And within the wood, monsters also hid their hideous heads. They lurked in caverns, their jaws dripping with poison, their eyes bulging with bloodshot madness. They roosted in trees, their cruel, curved beaks shining in the moonlight. I imagined them in every shape and size, crouched hissing around each corner. It was only Martel that protected me, that kept the beasts at bay when I was shivering in the darkness. She was my guardian, my savior. I clung to her with a ferocity born from childish terror, and she always found us a way to the next town. The next bit of bread.
But this time, whether the moonless night had dampened her senses or the dazzling of lamp-like bats had led her astray, we had lost our way. And with the dawn, our clothes damp with dew and steaming in the morning sun, we found ourselves alone and wandering without direction in the enormous wood. Around us, the sounds of the waking forest chittered and breezed among the leaves, cheering us a little, but also reminding me of the creatures that still waited for us somewhere in the valley. Martel wove leaves into her hair and picked some little flowers that grew white and pink between the rocks that lined the brook.
"For courage," she told me, and she tucked a little nosegay in the wool of my hat, right behind my ear. I was always wearing hats when I was small. Martel would knit me caps to wear even when her own clothes were wearing thin—to protect me from prying eyes. But she always kept her own hair free and down around her knees. Now she let it sweep along, decked in leafy garlands, brushing twigs from little bushes into its flowing weave. I held her in awe, back then, so much that I regarded her as something beyond earthly. Though she must not have known if we would live to see the outskirts of the green, she smiled and laughed with the assurance of a one who knows that they will live forever. I surely believed that, back then. She was one of the few things I held as certain in this world.
When the sun was high and hot between the spots of shade beneath the trees, we rested. I lay my head on her knees while she kept vigilant, watching for any hungry eyes that might espy us by the roots of the chestnut tree. That was when the creature found us.
Martel was watching the sky for any signs of danger when a shadow passed overhead. It disappeared, but she tapped me on the shoulder and I rose to follow her uphill, away from whatever searched the ground for prey. Soon, though, it passed over again, too quick to be distinguishable, and a strange keening sounded from our right. I froze, frightened, but Martel urged me onward. Then I saw a pair of eyes and shrieked and stumbled, tripping on my sister's skirt. She caught me, but her eyes were on the curious bird that watched us from a tree branch.
It was huge, almost as big as me, and its green and blue feathers gleamed in the sun like polished metal. But the thing that captivated was its piercing, pretty eyes. They glinted brightly with an unmistakable intelligence that my caused Martel to gasp in appreciation.
"Oh, Mithos…He's beautiful."
I stared obligingly at the bird, but I could not help but notice its massive talons as they clutched the thick branch on which it stood. It looked pretty, certainly, but I was more than a little apprehensive of those claws. I clutched nervously at her wrist.
"Mithos, he won't hurt you. Will you?"
Martel had a way of talking to animals that was absolutely singular. She spoke with all the respect that one can have for a fellow human being, but with more admiration than most can muster for their gods. And she would always keep a wild but tender gaze that locked eyes with the beasts and birds as though she deeply sought to know their souls. She really believed that they would listen, if they wanted to, and, if they were interested, they would understand. And with Martel, they really did.
This bird cocked its head at her and stared back, as if considering how to respond. When she moved a little closer to admire it, it did not move. It merely ruffled its feathers a little and made a quiet little whining sound, like a frightened dog. My sister grinned.
"You look…" she said, seriously, "Like a protazoan from the story books. I imagine you might be able to tell us as much about the sea as the sky. I…envy you." The bird inclined its head as though in acknowledgement.
Martel glanced over her shoulder, looking momentarily distracted. "Do you think," she asked the bird, "that you could fetch my brother's hat for me? It got caught in a branch somewhere back there, but I can't find it. With your eyes, though…" I grabbed at my head, discovering, to my surprise, that my hair was uncovered. I looked at her, wondering how long ago she had noticed it was gone.
To my astonishment, when I looked up, a soft brown thing fell down onto my shoulder. I caught it awkwardly and recognized it as the wayward hat. The bird was sitting on another branch, directly above us now. He was still watching us. My sister turned to me with the air of an adult who wishes to give a child a real responsibility. I straightened up.
"Mithos," she said to me, "This bird is smart. He may be able to lead us out of here." I stared at her. The thought had not occurred to me.
"Why don't you give him something to eat, just to be polite, and then ask him if he would be so kind?"
I was scared, but I took some crumbs from my pocket and threw them in the general direction of the protazoan. And it dove and caught them in the air before they hit the ground, a soft streak of green that curved in a loop from the branch and then landed silently back on its perch. It watched me patiently.
And I whispered, as confidently as I could,
"Will you show us the way home?"
And somehow it seemed to understand, and it spread its wings and flew a little way, to the next tree, where it landed, watching us with inquisitive blue eyes. Martel laughed and gathered up her skirts and followed, and immediately the aquan lifted off and flapped over to another bough. It was guiding us, I told my sister, who squeezed my hand and told me we were blessed. And sure enough, before the sun had set, we stood at the edge of the forest, farmland spreading before us in the deepening gold of the western sky.