28
The next day, Ruva woke up to her bird's distressed chirping. She realised how hungry it must be, and how irresponsible of her it was to bring it into her dorm.
Yesterday she hadn't been thinking straight. She spent the entire day amongst the trees, too scared to face what was in front of her.
And then… Leo had come.
Her bird had trusted him instantly, and he somehow found the words to bring her forwards.
But… it wasn't really Leo's words that had helped her, it was his presence. He had calmed her, stopped her from freezing up when they reached Akarnae.
I won't leave you, so keep moving forwards.
He'd said that to her again, the words burrowing just as deep as they had the first time.
But he had seemed slightly… strained. Like he was putting all his effort into something else. He sometimes had that look when he was using his gift with others, but Ruva had never before seen that look directed at her.
She didn't know what to think, yesterday going through her head over and over.
Her bird chirped again, breaking her train of thought.
Ruva knew that she should have returned the bird to the forest, it was its natural home. But it would also be cruel to separate the bird from her, not with the mothering ribbon connecting them. She couldn't bear the thought of being separated from her bird, not when it was so helpless.
Arra had come and gone, falling in love with the tiny bird, just as Ruva had.
However, Ruva had blanched when Arra asked for the bird's name, something she was still indecisive about.
Ruva wanted her bird to be named the traditional animal way, meaning that she wouldn't name the bird until it began to speak, and have an animal title. There were other problems, too, like the fact that Ruva didn't know if the bird was male or female. She wasn't at all inclined to find out, either.
Ruva calmed her bird, deciding to take it to the clinic. Varin would know what it ate, he would probably enjoy trying to identify it.
She quickly changed and headed to the Clinic, pleased to find Varin there despite the early hour.
Varin looked up as soon as she entered, his eyes going straight to the bird.
"Look!" he said, gruff voice echoing in the empty space. "This bird must be only a few days old. And look at that beak! Do you recognise what species this is?" he asked, directing the question to Ruva.
Ruva looked closer at the bird. Although she had found it in a sparrow's nest, she now realised that it wasn't a sparrow. The beak was the wrong shape, and its talons were too small. "I found it in a sparrow's nest, but it's not a sparrow," she shrugged, noticing Varin's excitement.
"This is a Bluebell Finch," he said, his enthusiasm palpable. "They're critically endangered, and there hasn't been a single sighting for years!" he exclaimed.
Ruva looked at the tiny bird – the Bluebell Finch – she hoped Varin could find food for it, especially after hearing how rare they were.
After an hour – most of which Varin spent documenting her bird and its characteristics – Varin let her leave with enough food to last the bird a few days. He had been adamant about examining the bird every three days, documenting its growth and feeding habits. Apparently there was very little known about bluebell finches, and Ruva caught Varin mumbling more than once about species preservation and the scientific community.
Eventually he let her leave, if only because she needed to prepare for her first class.
Ruva took Tua back to her dorm, making sure she was warm and comfortable, leaving out some food for the tiny thing.
Ruva headed off to her first class, but her mind was occupied by the tiny bird, which she checked between every lesson.
…
At the end of the day, Ruva returned to the gen-sec, ready for her additional Core Skills lessons.
Marmaduke gave her a sheet as soon as she entered, gesturing for her to sit down. Ruva sat at the closest desk, trying to answer the questionnaire about her gift. Some questions were easier to answer, things like identifying the signs meaning she was at her gift's limit.
The answer to that was obvious, her headaches and tiredness were always a sure sign.
Other questions were much more difficult, making Ruva think hard to find the right words. One such question was acknowledging what pushed her gift further, therefore making overusing it more likely. At first Ruva had no trouble listing factors, like the amount of time or number of people she used with her gift, but then she was stumped. What else made her gift harder to use?
As if knowing what she was thinking, her ribbons activated around her, her gift ribbon moving towards her hand. Ruva frowned at the movement, she hadn't tried to summon anything – not the least of which activated her gift.
Ruva still hadn't tried to summon any ribbons since her accident, she still couldn't turn off her gift at will. She had always assumed that it wouldn't work, just like all the other difficult abilities she'd once had.
Maybe – just maybe – she still had this skill, and just never thought to use it. Ruva took a deep breath, then willed a yellow ribbon into her hand.
Nothing happened.
Ruva tried again, putting all her concentration into that ribbon, only for the same result. She sighed, releasing her mental grip of the ribbon.
Ruva didn't bother trying to deactivate her gift, instead concentrating on her sheet through the ribbons. But as soon as her attention moved, the yellow ribbon glided to her hand, stopping just a fraction away.
A smile touched Ruva's lips.
She summoned another ribbon, this time a white one. But instead of putting all her will into making it come, Ruva nudged at it, encouraging it towards her. The ribbon slowly moved, stopping outside Ruva's hand once more.
Ruva smiled again, a bigger smile this time.
She coaxed forward more ribbons, the results becoming more and more substantial. Ruva realised that the ribbons wouldn't obey her if she forced her will upon them, only if she asked them to come from their own volition. Her ribbons were sentient, for lack of better word. They had a will of their own, and didn't like being forced around.
Ruva had found a way to summon ribbons, an ability she'd thought long gone.
…
Ruva's days developed a pattern, with her going out every morning into the forest with her bird. It was late autumn, the air cold enough to bite.
Ruva sat underneath an apple tree, stroking her bird until it woke.
It was now almost three weeks old, according to Varin, only days away from speaking.
Ruva was running out of time for coming up with a name, she knew she couldn't push it aside much longer.
The birds started to gather around Ruva, and she politely listened to their questions and did her best to answer them. She asked very few of her own, she was content speaking of her own life.
Birds were easy for Ruva to speak to, more so than horses or any other species. They lived constantly in the moment, never worrying for the future and never looking back. It was easy to make mistakes around them, too, because birds – unlike people – didn't hold grudges or regrets. They treated you as how you were acting in the current moment, never thinking of the mistakes of the past.
So Ruva enjoyed their company, they treated her as who she is, not who she was or who she could be.
And then, Ruva's bird hopped onto her knee. It looked up to her with adoring eyes and chirped, the sound translating to Ruva.
Ruva blinked, staring at her bird. It had spoken, its first word her own name. The next words Ruva said to it had to be its name, a name she hadn't come up with.
She searched through her brain, looking for anything – anything – that would be a suitable name. Her ribbons activated in the mad rush, but they didn't give any help – not that she expected them to flash a name down from the heavens, but a pointer would be helpful.
No matter how hard she searched, she still came up with nothing.
Her bird was still looking at her, waiting for an answer.
Ruva blurted the first phrase that came to mind. "Tua!"
It sounded like Too-Wuh, but Ruva couldn't change it now. She paused, needing to come up with the rest of her bird's – Tua's – title.
"Tua… Human Named," Ruva said to her bird. "You are Tua Human Named."
"Ruva!" Tua chirped.
The birds around Ruva all twittered, recognising the monumental moment. Tua just chirped again, hopping up Ruva's arm and resting in the crook of her neck.
She smiled at Tua's enthusiasm, managing not to flinch as the tiny bird dug its talons into her neck. She had named her bird, given it the title it would use for the rest of its life.
"Ruva!" Tua chirped once more, right into Ruva's ear. Ruva winced at the high-pitched sound, deciding it was time to go back to Akarnae.
The air smelt of decaying leaves as she walked back, the sun peeking over the horizon. She broke through the trees to see the academy in the golden light of dawn. It always looked most beautiful then, the buildings glinting from dew.
Surprisingly, Ruva could see nobody outside, even though it was Sunday. Although, given the ever-increasing amount of assignments they were being given, Ruva didn't blame them for sleeping in.
As it was, Ruva had a giant pile of homework and assignments that were due before the Kaldoras break, now only a week away. As much as she wanted to spend time outside, the pile on her desk was too big to ignore. She'd probably have to spend the entire day inside, working into the pile of homework before it was due next week.
Stopping briefly in the food court to grab some breakfast, Ruva headed back to her dorm, unsurprised to find Arra gone.
Ruva finished her breakfast – a buttered croissant – as she sat down, the ominous pile of papers bigger than she thought.
Placing Tua down in a makeshift nest made from Ruva's beanie, she grabbed her pencil and the first sheet from the pile. She tried to concentrate on her Medical Science homework, about the unusual health benefits of Korso bear saliva, but she was really struggling.
The main reason she was distracted, however, was not because of the difficult homework. The cause of her struggle was none other than her bird.
Tua chirped almost continuously, some of her words meaningless chatter but mostly just her name repeated over and over. Ruva tried blocking her ears, trying to focus on the questions in front of her. But it didn't work, Tua's high-pitched cheeping seemed to pierce through everything.
But still, Ruva kept trying, reading through her notes and trying to finish the three-hundred word task.
After what felt like hours, Ruva put down her pencil, picked up Tua and started stroking her. Her bird immediately quietened, adjusting its feathers slightly.
A smile pulled at Ruva's lips as she admired her bird, which she knew would one day be a sight to behold.
When she had first found the bird, its feathers had been so small that they were nothing more than a light fluff, barely hiding Tua's pink skin.
Her feathers were much thicker now, and more evenly spaced. They spanned along Tua's wings in many shades of blue, the tips being a blue so light and vivid it almost hurt Ruva's eyes.
Whilst Tua's wings and tail had delivered magnificently, the head was still patchy, causing it to fluff up at awkward angles. Combined with Tua's reflecting black eyes, she seemed both regal and adorable.
Ruva's TCD buzzed, making her jump.
She placed Tua back into her beanie, continuing to stroke her with one hand while she reached for the TCD.
Once she had it open, she saw it was from Arra. She opened the holo-message, blinking from the sudden light.
"Hey, Angel, just checking that you're back from the forest safe and sound," she said, giving a smile. "If you're up for it, come down to the rec room," –Arra stopped talking, looking at something Ruva couldn't see. She started snickering before turning her attention back to the screen. "Sorry, I've got to go, Harry just challenged Savannah to a dance-off and I do not want to miss that. Still, come down if you're in the mood, you won't be disappointed. Bye!"
Ruva smiled at seeing Arra in such a good mood, the glimmer in her amber eyes brighter than usual.
It wasn't every day she seemed so happy, Ruva wished she felt the same. But after attempting at her homework for an hour with Tua shrieking at her the entire time, Ruva couldn't say she was in a sociable mood.
Arra would be fine without her company, ignoring the fact she wanted to stretch her legs. Ruva stood up, letting the blood flow through her stiff legs. Walking across the room, she opened the window, letting in the icy late-autumn air. She took in a deep breath of the fresh air, goosebumps prickling along her arms. Tua seemed calmer now, too, the vibrant blue bird calming its frantic chirping.
Feeling refreshed, Ruva sat back down at her desk, getting stuck into the pile of homework.
…
Ruva felt someone shake her shoulder, and she opened her bleary eyes. Her head was pressed against the desk, she could feel paper and pencils digging into her face. She sat up, groaning at the pain in her neck.
Blinking against the dorm lights, Ruva realised she had fallen asleep on the desk.
"Wakey, wakey, Ruva," said Arra, trying to hide her smile. "I'm glad to see you back, but I think we need to talk about your sleeping habits."
Ruva yawned, mumbling out her excuses as she rubbed her neck.
With mirth twinkling in Arra's eyes, she asked, "So, what are you trying to do?"
Ruva froze. What was she trying to do?
What was she achieving?
What was she trying to do in her life? Why was she getting up each day, what did she have to look forward to?
How did she help the people around her? How did she improve things?
What was she trying to do?
She had done nothing. Nothing but selfish acts. Nothing except the things that she wanted, never to help someone else.
She was a failure.
"Ruva?" said Arra, stopping Ruva's dark train of thought. "I just asked what you're working on, didn't you hear me?"
Ruva blinked, trying to get her thoughts under wrap. "Um," she said, reaching for the most recent sheet. "Species Distinction homework, about identifying different earthworms."
Arra's nose wrinkled. "Bleugh, I hated those lessons."
Ruva smiled in agreement, but in truth she had enjoyed the experience. Varin had taken them out to the forest to hunt for earthworms, showing them different tactics to draw the worms to the surface. It had been a very hands-on lesson, much more enjoyable than sitting in a classroom.
But the smile soon disappeared from her face. She had been selfish then, as well. Only caring for her own enjoyment and learning, not about anyone else's.
"Here," said Arra, pushing something warm into Ruva's hands. Looking down, she saw a hot chocolate. Ruva smiled, breathing in the steamy chocolate smell.
"I was going to drink that myself, but you look like you need it more," said Arra, giving Ruva a comforting squeeze. "I'm going to have a shower, unless you want one first?"
Ruva shook her head, letting Arra go ahead.
Sipping the warm chocolatey goodness, Ruva finally became aware of her surroundings.
It was dark outside, and the room was icy from where she'd left the window open – was that frost on the windowsill?
Looking closer, Ruva saw windowsill and some of the wall covered in the pale, glinting blanket. Yes, that was definitely frost.
Ruva rose from her chair, her joints cracking much more than was healthy. Stretching out her aching back, she went over and shut the window, she'd deal with the frost later.
Ruva turned back to her desk, noticing that Tua was stirring once more. She shivered in the icy air, letting out a tiny chirp.
"Cold," she was saying. "Cold. Cold. Cold."
Ruva rushed over, scooping up the shivering bird in her hands. Tua immediately burrowed into them, soaking up all the warmth she had to offer.
As Tua's shivering eased, Ruva began to feel worse.
It was her fault Tua became cold, wasn't it? She hadn't even thought of her bird when she was quiet, only getting frustrated when she was loud.
A wave of guilt washed over Ruva, a wave that she didn't try to fight. She had been so selfish, not thinking of Tua or how cold she would become.
She didn't try and stop the guilt.
She deserved to be guilty.