Fifteen
Luar'ka wasn't sure how real this all was. She had spent nearly a full season stuck in the medical bay and training every day with the Unbloods in the kehrite. With the exception of Than'ja, her old shipmates from her first days with the Yautja weren't much in evidence. Ikthya'de came by infrequently to visit his brother and bring her fruits on occasion as treats, but she hadn't seen Kar'kha once since her 'imprisonment' and she had yet to see Thwei'ja anywhere in the main hall. She wasn't really complaining about that, since he still more or less terrified her, but even so, she had still sort of hoped to see him then. He was a valuable sign of familiarity to her, overpowering his tendency to intimidate her.
She used her rapidly sharpening teeth to tear at some of her rationed meat, pausing every few seconds to cup a hand over her mouth in pain before trying to continue. Once she did manage to rip off a piece, she was forced to swallow it whole, lest she aggravate her sore mouth all over again. This had been happening for several weeks now. Intense pain shooting through her jaws whenever she tried to eat something tougher than a Naxa fruit. Her threshold for pain was fairly high and climbing higher every day under R'zha's brutal regimen, but it was rather frustrating that she could hardly eat the food in front of her.
Kar'kha looked over, noticing her discomfort as she tapped her teeth with her finger, testing for weak spots. He cocked his head curiously and grumbled over to Than'ja, pausing over his own repast as he too noticed Luar'ka's struggles. He huffed, sitting back and nodding once, "Teething." he said simply, returning to his meal.
Both Luar'ka and Kar'kha regarded him with surprise and skepticism.
"I very much doubt that I am teething, Than'ja," Luar'ka snapped indignantly, "I am not a suckling."
The healer looked up sharply, an irritated look on his face as his lower mandibles clacked together feverishly before flaring out in obvious irritation. He motioned her to approach him, which she did. He placed one hand on her head and used his other to force her lower jaw open. He tapped the sides of her teeth lightly with one claw until he came to one of her duller front teeth. He used the pad of his finger to lightly feel around her tooth before moving once more. Before she could react, he suddenly gripped the tooth firmly and tugged. Luar'ka yelped as the tooth popped out of her gum with little effort and she flailed backward, both hands clasped over her mouth as she glowered viciously at him. Than'ja sat back, holding up the tiny tooth between his thumb and forefinger, ignoring the glistening blood that had spilled free when he wrenched it loose. He clicked his tusks together twice and chuffed, "Teething." he reiterated.
Kar'kha looked doubtful and Luar'ka looked steamed. Ikthya'de chuckled from his place on the other side of Luar'ka's chair, "He is right, you two. That tooth would not have come out so easily if it was not preparing to do so to begin with."
Kar'kha glanced at him and then back at his apprentice as she gently rubbed the empty tooth socket, her eyes narrowed. They went wide suddenly and she gasped; "Something sharp is in there!" she exclaimed.
"Adult teeth." Than'ja said, again using very simple explanations that didn't go into detail. Luar'ka sat back down, a feat not as simple for her as it was for the Yautja; she had to literally climb up to stand on the chair and then fold her legs back beneath her before she could sit. She sighed irritably, her feathers ruffling, "I could live without more impromptu demonstrations, Than'ja." she said, finally just giving in and tearing her meat to pieces with her claws before eating smaller bites she could swallow with minimal chewing. Not that that was too farfetched a method; the Yautja didn't really chew, either. Luar'ka had learned that they possessed a small set of blunt molars deeper within their mouths like she did and only used them for biting through hard substances like bone. For the most part, their knife-like teeth just behind their mandibles were mostly cutting teeth. But their throats also weren't as narrow as hers, so her eating speed was reduced this way.
"So tell me," Kar'kha said, "How is your training?"
Luar'ka realized he was speaking to her and she turned quickly, "It goes well. R'zha has complimented me often on my agility. However, my offensive maneuvers apparently leave a lot to be desired." she grumbled at the last part, knowing she had difficulty with frontal attacks the Yautja specialized in during close combat.
"I trained under R'zha as well," Ikthya'de piped up, "He truly is brutal. But he is also a wise and seasoned warrior. You would do well to take his lessons to heart, Gyun'r Mei'jadhi." he said. Luar'ka giggled at the goofy affectionate nickname Ikthya'de had given her some time before. He'd managed to dig up the Yautjan word for 'feather' from the database. Ever since her feathers had started coming in, replacing her baby down, he'd begun calling her 'feather sister' every chance he got. It was almost like an inside joke between them since the others all found it annoying to no end.
Even through the noise of the main assembly hall, Luar'ka knew that these charades of peace wouldn't last. She'd never entered this room before, but she knew better than to expect an instant welcome. Even though she was treated mostly as a nuisance or annoyance, and wasn't bothered very often as a result, acceptance with the Yautja didn't happen overnight. This thought crossed her mind as three larger individuals approached them. All but one were unfamiliar, but that one Luar'ka knew well. S'kivn-a was her usual source of misery from training and nary a day went by when he didn't look for some opportunity to lash at her. He wouldn't attack her while she was surrounded by her comrades, all of whom eyed him warningly as he approached, but she knew that, as the intended target, she'd be expected to judge and handle the situation appropriately. S'kivn-a's fists clenched and he sneered, "Prey has no business mingling with Blooded warriors."
"Perhaps," she agreed, "However, I am not prey."
S'kivn-a scoffed, his mandibles flaring in mirth, "Is that so? With a body so fragile as yours, snapping your neck would be a simple feat."
"Provided you could catch me, first." she said with a leer, baring her teeth, "You never seem to manage it during lessons. I always evade you."
"You could not evade me, now." he threatened, his voice low as he glared at her. Luar'ka returned the glare, meeting his eyes dead on as he continued, "A suckling like you is almost no match for me."
"Even a 'suckling' like me knows and obeys the rules, S'kivn-a." she said coolly. Fights outside of the kehrite were forbidden. After all, that's what those rooms were for in the first place. Sure, they happened frequently, regardless, but if the individuals were apprehended and restrained, severe punishments would take place. This was to create a daily training regimen for the discipline that the Yautja revered as part of their hunting heritage. She bared her teeth, her eyes narrowing as her vision darkened, the second eyelid she possessed threatening to lower on reflex; "Care to challenge me?"
She stood up and jumped off the chair, her tail lashing and her feathers twitching. Standing at just over five feet, she was easily dwarfed by S'kivn-a, who towered over her at six and a half feet. Luar'ka had worked hard over the past several months to learn to quell her fear, though the pounding of her heart pumping blood through her body, fueling it for battle could hardly be missed. A surge of adrenaline swept through her as S'kivn-a began to stalk toward her, intent on taking on her challenge.
Than'ja snarled suddenly and stood up, grabbing S'kivn-a's arm. Ikthya'de and Kar'kha also stood, eying him darkly. All three of them easily proved how diminutive S'kivn-a was in comparison just yet. He looked from one to the other, weighing his options in his head and occasionally casting flitting glances over to Luar'ka. His flared his mandibles in a rage, his body quivering with barely controlled anger. It seemed for a moment that he was fully prepared to take all three of them on to get to her. Their little space had gone mostly silent, the Yautja within earshot of the table having ceased their conversations and looked over in their direction. It wasn't hard to see what the fuss was about.
S'kivn-a eyed each of the brothers furiously before his gaze suddenly fell on the wall opposite him and he immediately yanked away from Than'ja, backing off from their table. His head lowered, his mandibles tucked close, he moved off silently without looking back. The brothers turned to where his gaze had fallen and all three held perfectly still; a few Arbitrators had gathered at a table across the room and had stood up when they noticed the commotion. All three of them were staring over in their direction silently, not budging. They were judging the situation before acting. Ikthya'de made a show of sitting back down slowly, pushing Luar'ka back into her chair as he did. Than'ja and Kar'kha followed suit and resumed eating quietly. Luar'ka kept her head bowed, doing her best to resist looking behind her, curious as she was. Eventually, her curiosity won out and once the rest of the crowd had wisely turned away from their table, she cast a quick, furtive glance back.
The Arbitrators had returned to their seats, resuming their conversation. She easily picked out Me'vi-te among them, her sharp eyes noticing the many minute scars around his uncovered neck and shoulders; the scars she herself had caused during their fight the previous season. Her eyes narrowed when she also caught sight of that white Yautja again, the one who had saved her and S'iirai on Illmianyar before. He was absurdly easy to pick out of the crowd of forest colored Yautja, lacking both normal pigmentation as well as striped and spotted patterns that normal individuals carried. There was something about him that unnerved her; maybe it was the fact that he was just so stark white compared to his comrades. She wasn't sure.
She jumped when he suddenly turned back toward her, glowering in her direction. She whirled back around as he flared his lower mandibles aggressively at her, even from that distance. Clearly, he didn't appreciate being stared at. She shuddered once, shaking off the unease of the near scrape and now realizing how stupid she'd been goading S'kivn-a on like that. When one was being taunted into a match, not out of respect or boredom but out of maliciousness and intent to harm, unless there was a fair amount of confidence, it was just best to ignore. At her current level, Luar'ka knew that she had no prayer of besting any of the Yautja in a match right now. Her only advantage was her speed and that wasn't enough to bring down an opponent. A real match involved being able to reasonably measure up to your opponent. Every day of her life was spent maintaining a delicate balance of submission and growing confidence, allowing her limited dominance to start to grow bit by tiny bit. Besides, it wasn't like she was really allowed to take part in a match anyway. Sure, she hadn't been challenged yet, but it was only a matter of time. She eyed S'kivn-a from across the room where he now sat with a few of the other Unbloods, all of them discussing something in hushed detail. Over the roar of voices throughout the room, there was no way to tell what they were speaking about.
But Luar'ka knew it couldn't be good. This feeling intensified when S'kivn-a glared over at her, his eyes shadowed ominously.
Over the months, Luar'ka had learned that that familiar tingling sensation that shot through her neck and spine had meant impending danger as warning her through her instincts. However, she had also learned what caused it. They were the nerves in placement to where her feathers were either developed, or in development. In response to synapses sent through her brain throughout her body, her feathers would flare out from her head when she was nervous or anticipative. Now, as she studied S'kivn-a staring murderously at her, she understood the gravity of her situation.
She had a feeling she would be skipping training the next day.
/ooo/
No such luck. Luar'ka silently complained to herself about her predicament as she easily dodged Thei'dah's sharp swipe toward her face, ducking around him and pushing off the floor to latch onto his neck. He roared in surprise at the unexpected attack and lashed backwards, trying to grab her as she clamped her jaws down around his neck, her tiny fangs barely breaking his tough hide. He froze when he felt the pinpricks against the front of his throat, knowing she'd won. The point of these sparring sessions wasn't to injure; it was simply to determine who was better with each match. Thei'dah fell still, grumbling as Luar'ka initially struggled to yank her teeth out of his thick skin, finally succeeding with a sharp grunt and throwing herself to the floor. She stood up, looking up at him, "Forgive me for that; my tooth must have gotten lodged in your skin for a moment."
"You did no permanent damage." he told her, "And you have bested me this round."
"Barely. You are getting nearly fast enough to match me. Do not forget; the only reason I win so often is due to my speed. Take that away and I would be no match whatsoever."
Thei'dah made a huffing sound in irritation and tossed his head, "Another round?" he asked.
Luar'ka lunged at him, fangs bared.
All around them, their peers were busy sparring, preparing for the inevitable examinations they were to face soon. Elder Sechinde could arrive at any time. All students knew that if any one of them appeared tired or not up to muster in any way, they would be overlooked without question. Only Luar'ka was relatively unfazed; she knew she would not be chosen.
Even so, even with all she'd learned and accomplished in such a short time, all of her knowledge and skill in fighting, her tremendous speed and her wings finally beginning to take shape, she still felt a twinge of bitterness. She looked at her peers, fighting fiercely and passionately for the coveted honor they all sought and desired above all else. The kiande amedha they had trained their whole lives to fight against and either emerge victorious and Blooded, or perish in disgrace. She ground her teeth in a fury at the memories of her own struggles against those black monsters, how she'd survived against an attacking beast not once, but twice, and even successfully injured one. If only she'd killed it...she could have received the Blessing...maybe. She'd fought them before and she knew she could do it again if given the chance. And what was stopping her? Her own misfortune of being born on N'-ithya! That's what!
She screamed in rage, her fury fueling her muscles as she launched above Thei'dah and attacked him from above, something he certainly hadn't been expecting. The combination of him raising his head to follow her intense bound into the air and the sudden weight as she landed on his shoulder and sank her teeth into one of his tendrils caused his center of gravity to shift, throwing him into an irrevocable tumble backwards. They landed hard, Thei'dah's near two-hundred pound body of raw muscle, tendons, and reinforced bone all but crushing her left arm beneath his solid weight. Luar'ka let out a sharp shriek and he reacted almost instantaneously, rolling off of her and bolting into a crouched position, eying her darkly as she picked herself up, clutching her arm. He wasn't moving. He seemed to be waiting for her to move first, or else say something. She felt her blood boiling in anger at his hesitation. Whether that had been an accident or not, it was still a critical blow. She glared dangerously at him, "Do not just stare at me! Finish the job!" she snarled. Thei'dah flared his mandibles and lashed out, grabbing her throat and hauling her into the air. He slammed her back to the ground, standing over her victoriously as she shuddered on the floor beneath him. The fight was his and the others had seen it happen. The match over, he dropped down beside her, rumbling deep within his chest as he examined her. Her breathing was labored and it was clear she was in great pain. Thei'dah had a hard time grasping as to why she would be; he'd held back for her sake once he realized he'd broken her arm when he landed on her. It definitely could have been a lot worse. He trilled softly and her eyes opened. Her face was expressionless as she exhaled shakily, "Nain desintje-de, Thei'dah." she muttered.
"That was very well done, Thei'dah." R'zha said suddenly as he approached from across the room, "Always seek to use a disadvantage to your own benefit. You have succeeded."
Thei'dah stood up and bowed respectfully to his mentor. But his gaze returned to Luar'ka as she rolled to her side and struggled to sit up, her wings sagging. R'zha clicked his mandibles together, "You are foolish to allow your thoughts to cloud over your instincts, Luar'ka." he reprimanded, "Whatever troubles you cannot be allowed to interfere with the hunt. Your prey will not be so merciful. You are dismissed for now. Return to the medical bay and seek treatment."
He turned to resume training as the other students milled around, curious to R'zha's actions and words against the female Avian. Among the group, S'kivn-a eyed her dangerously, his gaze shifting back and forth from Luar'ka to Thei'dah as he processed the situation. His eyes widened when he saw her stagger to her feet, her tail lashing behind her as she fought for balance. She stared at R'zha's retreating back, "I can fight!" she exclaimed.
The older male paused, turning back to her curiously. He frowned when he saw her attempt to straighten up, only to gasp and clutch at her chest where ribs were clearly broken from the impact. Her left arm hung limply at her side, already turning sickly shades of green and purple from her injuries.
"You are dismissed." he said again, his voice low.
"I can keep going! I will not go down so easily," she hissed, "Especially to prey! I would never fall that easily!"
R'zha let out a low warning growl, his hands clenching at his sides. Luar'ka did indeed notice his sudden tense stance as he eyed her. She knew she could continue to argue and face even worse than she had received now, or she could obey and return to fight another day. R'zha was giving her the chance to think it over. Biting back her fury, she exhaled softly, her erect feathers slowly drooping back down to her head. Her wings and tail hung limply and she sighed, "Ki'sei." she mumbled. She bowed as best she could with her injuries, fighting to hold in the hiss of pain. She turned, moving toward the door slowly. She walked as tall and straight as she could until she felt the door close behind her. Only then did she sag in pain from her wounds.
Making her way back to the medical bay wasn't a problem this time around, thankfully. However, Than'ja was more than a little shocked at her condition when she arrived. Ikthya'de was there as well, visiting his brother.
"Mei'jadhi." he muttered when he saw her battered and bruised form appear in the doorway.
"What in...?" Than'ja muttered, moving toward Luar'ka. They were quite unused to seeing her return so thoroughly beaten as she was now. She sighed, stumbling over to them, "It is nothing to worry about," she muttered, "Just bruising. R'zha ordered me to leave for today."
Luar'ka didn't usually return injured to this extent; she was often too fast to lay a hand on. So for her to come back in this condition was a bit of a surprise for the brothers.
Ikthya'de hung back while Than'ja examined Luar'ka, setting her up on the table and feeling around her ribcage with surprising gentleness. He let out a low rumble, clicking his tusks together thoughtfully, "Four and five broken...eight, nine and two are likely fractured...as for your arm...," he mumbled, moving to her other side and lifting her left arm. She hissed softly, but other than that, made no other exhalations of pain. Than'ja huffed lightly, "While I do not know the extent of its damage, I can promise that you will not be fighting for several rotations at least." he said calmly.
Luar'ka's face didn't change, but Than'ja didn't miss her turning her head to hide the odd shine in her eyes all of a sudden, "I see." she said flatly.
She waited patiently as he worked on her. He injected a deep blue fluid into her skin above each of the damaged ribs. He explained that this medicine would coat each bone, encasing it in a protective cover and allowing it to heal even while she was moving around. He did the same for her arm; a quick scan showed that it was broken in four spots along the radius and once along the ulna, the latter appearing only as a hairline break. He injected the same fluid over the two bones, enveloping them in the protective casing. The fluid was viscous and thick and felt icy cold once in place within her body. She started shivering as the chill began to seep through her body, feeling like her bones were being flash frozen. He did the same procedure for a large knot on her head where she'd collided with the floor. He then muttered something to Ikthya'de who left the room abruptly. Than'ja helped Luar'ka to her feet and watched as she stumbled toward the storeroom to sleep. His eyes narrowed and he glanced at the readout from the scan he'd taken, sighing heavily and shaking his head. When Ikthya'de returned, Than'ja stopped him from going into the storeroom with the large fur pelt he'd requested to keep her warm against the icy gel. His brother eyed him suspiciously as Than'ja hesitated briefly, "Mei'hswei, I do not like this." he said quietly.
"That much is obvious," Ikthya'de replied, "She has never received injury like this before. This is natural."
Than'ja shook his head slowly, "H'ko," he muttered, "Ikthya'de, her scans are ominous to me. You and I have fought oomans, before. Their bodies do not break nearly as easily as Luar'ka's appears to."
"What are you saying, Mei'hswei?"
He pulled up the scan on the computer screen aside the table, zooming in on the images of Luar'ka's damaged bones, as well as the undamaged bones from earlier scans. He tapped the screen, outlining further the insides and knowing that even his brother, whose specialty lay in the forge and not in medicine, would be able to see the problem. Ikthya'de's eyes darkened, his mandibles loosening from around his face, "...Her bones are hollow..." he said softly. The image turned horizontally, revealing the central core of the bone where layers of marrow should have been, but were not present.
"Now," Than'ja continued, "The bones in her arms, they do contain marrow. Her bones appear to be rather thick, more so than we had expected, possibly to strengthen them to allow for stress. However, the rest of her skeletal system is nearly completely hollow. She possesses pneumatic air sacs, which transfer the air she breathes straight through to the bones, which ordinarily would receive oxygen produced by the blood cells created in the marrow."
"With hollow bones, her body is lighter." Ikthya'de ventured. Than'ja nodded, "Yes. Her body is designed to be lightweight for flight. Assuming she ever learns how to get off the ground." he said with a furtive glance toward the storeroom in case she was listening in. He faced his brother again, "She is not designed for combat, Mei'hswei." he said quietly, "Our ooman apprentices would fare better."
Ikthya'de's eyes darkened and he looked away for a moment. His fist clenched, the other grasping the pelt draped over his shoulder. He sighed, his mandibles flaring for a moment, "We cannot give up on her, Than'ja," he whispered, "You know what will happen."
"Mei'hswei, I am aware you are very fond of the female, but if she remains with us, she will die one day soon. It could be from something as simple as falling from the landing in the main hall."
"Better to die with us, whom she knows, than to meet Cetanu at the hands of a hunter on our game worlds."
Than'ja eyed him with a touch of irritation, but kept silent. Ikthya'de glanced briefly at the storeroom, "You, Kar'kha, and I are all that stands between her and the game worlds. If the Elders learn of her weak structure, they will send her there without a second thought. She will die the dishonorable death of a reject, unable to defend herself or survive. She has grown to embrace our ways, Mei'hswei. It is different now than when she first arrived."
"How so?"
"She upholds a sense of honor now, Than'ja. She fights daily for this honor in the kehrite. If we gave up on her now, we would deny her honor and all it has come to represent for her. Under the guidance of the Paya, we cannot do that to her."
Than'ja's shoulders sagged as he sighed heavily, "Until she is given permission to return to us, we cannot help her. She will continue to fight in the kehrite and continue to receive injury."
"Do what you can to expedite their decision." Ikthya'de said firmly, "In the meantime, I have an idea. I shall speak with her for a while."
He moved off toward the storeroom. Than'ja turned his head, following him, "She may sleep for some time, Mei'hswei. Her injuries are taxing."
"Then I shall wait. Until later, Than'ja." Ikthya'de said with a teasing clack of his tusks. Than'ja rolled his eyes and returned to work. Even though he tried to focus on the screen in front of him, his mind wandered. He knew his brother was right; there was a difference between Luar'ka's weakness and the general weakness of ill-fated youngsters. Oftentimes, weak young Yautja were allowed to die, weeded out of the stronger bloodlines due to their apathy toward training, the rules, or discipline. Essential traits were ingrained in them almost from the moment of birth. If they failed to exhibit these traits, they were abandoned to their fates, one way or another.
Luar'ka wasn't like them. She was strong and capable and had been proving this every day for the last season. She was capable of doing battle with her peers in the group of Unbloods she'd been staying with, not to mention defeating them rather handily. Her speed was not to be taken lightly. She was by no means a weakling in spirit. Her disadvantage lay in her own body, which just wasn't built to take the strenuous, chaotic lifestyle the Yautja lived. Every day he spent with her, Than'ja could see that her spirit more and more resembled theirs. She was determined, ambitious, passionate; all things that made up the basics of the honorable Yautja spirit. If only she could just rectify this with her weak body.
Than'ja sighed. Ikthya'de was right. He couldn't tell the Elders about this. He'd have a talk with R'zha later. Hopefully, with any luck, Luar'ka could continue to grow a little while longer.
/ooo/
Ikthya'de stepped inside the darkened storeroom, his sensitive eyes easily picking up Luar'ka's trembling form in the corner. He could hear her teeth chattering from this distance as the gel did its job, healing her injured bones, but freezing her insides in the process. The method wasn't pleasant; he'd had it done on himself multiple times. He approached her carefully, kneeling down beside her. He reached around and grabbed the pelt he'd brought in at Than'ja's request. He dragged it up over her tiny body, wrapping it tightly around her to keep her warm. The gel coating her bones was only going to get colder before it was through. This was absolutely necessary and given her small size, she might even need another pelt or two before the process was finished. He sat beside her, banking on what little medical knowledge he possessed by firmly rubbing his hand back and forth across her shoulders and sides, encouraging circulation which would help warm her.
He chuffed in amusement at what Than'ja would say if he saw this display. He already knew that he was odd for his fondness of the Avian. But he'd known he was odd for most of his life. He had no interest in fighting or hunting, despite his great skill in both. He'd always found great comfort in using his hands to create things. All Yautja were encouraged to make their own weapons for chiva, but he'd had an advantage above his peers by teaching himself to construct crude spears and knives from junk material at an early age. His first knife had been composed of a piece of a broken glaive, a jagged piece of metal, and strands of his own looser tendrils at the time. Sure, pulling them out had hurt like he couldn't believe, but the final result had been worth it and he'd treasured that little trophy. It had long since been destroyed, but the memories lingered.
Being an odd one had its disadvantages of course, but Ikthya'de had known little else his whole life so he didn't mind as much. Perhaps that was why he felt so obligated to look after the little female. He couldn't really understand the meaning much deeper than that, but as he watched her sleep fitfully, recovering from her injuries, he found he didn't particularly mind this either.
After a long time, her shivering slowed down as the chill began to wear off. Soon, she began to stir, perhaps awakened by his movement or else from the warmth of the fur surrounding her body. Her eyes swiveled aimlessly for a moment before she focused on him and relaxed, "Oh..." she muttered, comforted when she saw it was him.
"G'kaun-yte." he greeted, his upper mandibles spreading apart in a grin.
"Ikthya'de," she murmured, "What are you doing in here?"
"Than'ja instructed me to bring you this fur. You are going to be quite cold for a while until your bones knit."
Luar'ka struggled to try to sit up, but a sharp warning growl from Ikthya'de quickly changed her mind and she lay back down, shifting onto her back. She fidgeted a moment as she worked her wings into a more comfortable position before settling, "How long must I wait to train again?"
"Seven to eight rotations would be my guess." he said.
Luar'ka sighed, eyes shifting to the ceiling, "Not surprising."
"What happened?"
She shook her head, not looking at him, "It was an accident. I knocked Thei'dah off balance and he fell on me." she explained simply.
"He is quite a substantial opponent for you." Ikthya'de remarked in surprise. Thei'dah was technically a cousin of his, so he was well-acquainted with the younger Unblood.
"He is tolerant of me. We work well together." Luar'ka explained.
"Given Thei'dah's parentage, I am surprised to hear this." Ikthya'de said.
"What do you mean?"
"Thei'dah is the offspring of my bearer's sister and sired by Thwei'ja."
Luar'ka blinked, "You are correct. I am surprised as well." she muttered, turning her head away silently.
They fell silent, Luar'ka having pulled her tail up onto her chest and stroking the feathers absently. Ikthya'de watched her do this, his mandibles moving every now and again. As he studied her, he noted with surprise that she was fidgeting her jaw and he could hear her teeth lightly click together every few seconds. He held back a laugh of amusement; despite the clear lack of mandibles, she was even copying their tendency to fidget them when deep in thought. Clearly, the taking of such a young apprentice was having some interesting results beyond what they usually saw from older human students.
"Than'ja told me you have been troubled." he lied. Her eyes flitted to him, narrowed and skeptical, "When did he tell you this?" she asked.
"A while before," he answered vaguely, "What troubles you, Gyun'r Mei'jadhi?" he asked.
Luar'ka smiled at the nickname and sighed, her face once again returning to the gloomy look she'd had before, "I am not so sure how to explain it. I do not believe you would understand."
"Try me."
She hesitated, sorting through her thoughts as she worked out a way to tell him what was bothering her. She sat up slowly, hissing through her clenched teeth. He didn't growl this time, allowing her to do as she pleased up to a point. She sighed once she'd working into a comfortable position, "Ikthya'de, when did you decide you wished to become a metalworker?"
Confused at such an odd question compared to his own inquiry, he blinked a few times, loosening his mandibles from around his face, "I believe I have always known," he replied, "It seems to be in my blood, a calling far stronger than that of the hunt."
"Did you face challenges?"
His eyes narrowed, his tusks snapping sharply, "Plenty." he growled, "Me'vi-te was openly against it. Our bearer called us foolish. I found a mentor within the metalworkers. He was brutal with my training, but he saw I had made the correct decision. Than'ja faced similar struggles. We have overcome, proven what needed to be proven. I had to demonstrate that I could hunt, fight, and survive as any and all Yautja should, and are expected to. This was the only way to obtain what I wished for. Under my own determination and the blessings of the Paya, I have achieved my goal. I am now accepted as a metalworker and no longer under pressure to the extent I was before."
Her pale face looked out toward him from beneath the layers of feathers hanging over and around it. He watched in fascination as they shuddered and flexed along her head, flaring up and out briefly before settling back down against her head.
"What troubles you, Luar'ka?" he asked softly.
"If I pleased the Paya enough, would they grant my wish?" she asked.
"I believe so, assuming it rests within their power to do so." he answered her, "What is your wish?"
She smiled bitterly, "Well, they could never grant what I truly want." she said, chuckling.
"And what is that?" he asked, his tusks ticking together in amusement.
"...I...want to be Yautja, truly. But...but I know I never can be." she mumbled, looking away from him as though ashamed of her admission, "I am Avian. I am what I am; I cannot change it. And for all I know, I am the last of my kind."
Ikthya'de rumbled softly deep inside his chest, "You are right, Luar'ka; the Paya cannot grant that wish. But you are wise to have already accepted this outcome and embraced it. So in place of that wish, what do you desire in its stead?"
She faced him with a hard look, her eyes filled with a fire born from fear and hesitation and a determination not to let it take over; "I want to continue to survive. I want to keep fighting. When I met him, Kar'kha said something to me. I did not understand it at the time, but I could see it was important. I understand it, now."
"And what was that?"
"Thin-de le'hsaun 'aloun'myin-de s' bpi-de gka-de hou-depaya." she said confidently, "'Learn the gift of all sights, or finish the dance of the fallen gods'. I understand it, now. If I cannot continue to improve, I will follow the fallen gods. I am not ready to go, yet. But..." she trailed off, her fire cooling momentarily. She gazed down at her hands folded in the fur in her lap, "I know I need to continue to fight...I just do not know how. I can never match up to you and the others, Ikthya'de. I am just...not strong enough."
This was it; the trouble that had been polluting her mind to the point where her concentration in the kehrite had been lost. Unbeknownst to her, Ikthya'de was well aware of her limitations thanks to Than'ja. And now, it was time to implement his idea regarding the female Avian. He chuffed, gaining her attention as he fixed her with a stern stare.
"You are correct," he said firmly, "You will never match the Yautja in strength and durability. It is not physically possible for you to do so."
She blinked once, her face seemingly shifting from several different emotions running through her mind before settling on a blank expression. She nodded her understanding. He continued, "You spend far too much time focusing on how to match us, knowing you can never do so. Why?"
"Huh?"
She wasn't comprehending him. He sighed, straightening up and closing his eyes. He decided to try another tactic. He leaned forward again, his face mere inches from hers, "Why do we hunt the kiande amedha?" he asked.
Luar'ka's expression softened. She was now in familiar territory and answered him with confidence, "They are special to the Yautja; prey that cannot be matched anywhere else in the known universe."
"And why is that?"
"They are fast, aggressive, and powerful; worthy prey."
"And?" he pressed. She scrunched her eyes shut as she tended to do when she wracked her brain for an answer. She exhaled sharply, her eyes snapping open, "They are the Fingers of the Paya," she said, "They point out the weak and unworthy individuals and separate them from the truly strong and deserving of honor."
Ikthya'de nodded, pleased with her response. She'd learned a lot more than he'd ever expected.
"Now," he said, "There is one very good reason why the kiande amedha sometimes outwit Yautja warriors. A trait they possess, which even the Yautja do not. A Yautja facing off against the kiande amedha must always remain aware of his disadvantage in this regard. Tell it to me."
Luar'ka's face darkened as her memories of her first encounter with the terrifying beasts emerged in her mind; seeing it drag that hunter off into the trees, how it stalked her across the countryside and chased her into that thorn bush. How it tore a chunk of flesh out of her ankle, the scar still quite visible even now, and how it attacked her in that dried up riverbed, forcing her to plunge the knife into its throat in defense. But finally, the memory that trumped them all; of facing off against it on that clifftop, how it lunged toward her and she dodged its attack, struggling to gain an edge with her immature skills and claws. She ground her teeth, baring her fangs, "The kiande amedha are fast, stealthy, and nearly invisible in the dark. They give off no heat. They are ruthlessly silent in their pursuit, hiding in the shadows until the last possible second. They leap onto their prey then with all of their aggression and fury."
Ikthya'de studied her a moment, inwardly teasing her by refusing to react. Finally, when he saw she wasn't going to start squirming, that she was confidant in her reply, he chuffed in approval and sat back, flaring his mandibles in a wide grin, "And that," he said, "is the key to your success, Mei'jadhi." he said.
She looked at him in amazement, her eyes narrowed as she processed what he meant. He watched expectantly as they widened in understanding when it dawned on her, "My...speed." she said, raising her head.
"Yes," he agreed, "The Yautja are fast, but they do not compare to the kiande amedha. And you are quickly becoming faster than they are. Cease trying to become Yautja in body, but remain one in spirit, Mei'jadhi. Use your own gifts to rise above the others."
It was true. She'd been so wrapped up in R'zha's literal teachings during training that she'd forgotten her own natural talents. Her speed and agility, while useful in sparring, had never been the foremost thing on her mind. She'd always looked at the other students developing incredible strength and power and felt a twinge of bitterness and envy at their progress. Her own strength never seemed to develop past what she already had, making her feel vastly inferior to them, despite her winnings.
"I cannot believe I had forgotten...my speed saved my life so many times when I was still on N'-ithya. How could it have left me?"
"It has not left you; you have let it fall out of practice." Ikthya'de said, tilting his head at her. He reached out and smoothed the feathers on her head and she looked up at him in puzzlement. For a brief second, she was reminded of Rail playing with her down like he used to do. She siphoned that thought back into the recesses of her mind, studying Ikthya'de's face. She nodded her understanding.
"You must rest while your bones heal," Ikthya'de reminded her firmly, pulling his hand away, "However, when they have been mended, you will return to the kehrite. Hopefully, you will follow my advice."
Luar'ka frowned, adjusting her wings against her back, "I will." she told him, "And this time, I will not forget."
Ikthya'de pushed her back down suddenly, making her wince from her injuries. He stood up, towering over her as he looked down at her, "Rest, now. You have much to prepare for."
He turned and headed for the door. Luar'ka bundled deep into the thick, warm fur he'd brought her. Before she settled, she raised her head, "Ikthya'de!" she called. He paused before departing, glancing back at her. She tugged at the fur, "I wish to keep this."
She heard his rustling chuckle from deep within his chest, "It is yours." he told her.
Pleased at her new acquisition, she burrowed deep beneath it, trilling a few delighted squeals of her own. Ikthya'de stepped out and shut the door, chuckling at how ridiculously easy it was to make her happy. She was the first female he didn't have to be on edge around and the thought was oddly refreshing.
Than'ja was sitting at the table in the center of the room, a stack of preserved documents heaped in the middle of it. The room was dark but for a couple of lights filtering down from the ceiling like in the main hall. He had a couple of stone vessels sitting on the table in front of him. Ikthya'de caught the tantalizing scent of c'nlip emanating from them.
"This is a surprise." he said, "I would assume one of these is for me."
"That depends." Than'ja said, taking one vessel for himself, "Were you able to calm her, Mei'hswei?"
"I believe so, yes. At the very least, I have nullified her anxieties."
Than'ja sighed heavily. They were treading into taboo territory by acknowledging the Avian's worries of her battle performance. This was something a Yautja was wise to keep to himself much of the time. Fortunately, Than'ja and Ikthya'de had never had to deal with this concern for the most part. The reason being quite simple; their status as twins had allowed them to stay as close as they'd been as younglings. Concerns and anxieties one or the other had were confided to each other and no one else, not even Kar'kha, though he was welcome to confide in them if he so chose. This was a privilege not many Yautja enjoyed once they grew into adulthood. The purpose was to ensure that no Yautja developed weakness of any sort. Their personal purpose was to prevent unrest from developing among their comrades. It was enough for them.
Ikthya'de sat down across from his brother and grabbed the other vessel, taking a deep drink of it. He sighed and tossed his head, "It has been a while." he exclaimed, "Does it taste stronger to you?"
"Not in particular."
"I must have been with Luar'ka for a while if you had time to fetch these during that period." Ikthya'de remarked, folding his arms on the table.
"She appears to take ease around you. I had assumed you would take far longer."
"Long enough, I suppose," Ikthya'de grumbled, swirling the liquid around inside the vessel, "The heat is gone."
"It is still good cold." Than'ja argued lightly.
"True, but the warmth is part of the addictive nature." his brother countered. Than'ja nodded a couple of times, his head slightly inclined. He had to agree with him on that one.
"I must admit, you never fail to surprise me, Mei'hswei." Than'ja murmured.
"What?"
"Me'vi-te never took you as seriously as he did myself or Ka'si'r when he was alive. He always seemed under the impression that you saw life as a game and little more. He did not expect you to survive this long."
At the mention of their deceased older brother, Ikthya'de's eyes darkened. Any of their siblings prior to Ka'si'r had all been dead for a long while once the two of them came aboard the ship. Given the sheer loss of descendants Me'vi-te had suffered by then, he'd begun entrusting the training of his progeny to himself and himself alone. He remembered how hard he had fought to win their sire's approval, as well as what had really happened to the junk knife he'd constructed.
"Me'vi-te wished for us to become strong, to survive. He wished for Cetanu to overlook us a while longer," Than'ja said, taking a drink from his vessel, "His wish was granted. We are capable hunters and warriors and with our chiva behind us, we are useful members of the clan. We have survived all the clan has thrown at us. And we will continue to survive until the Paya call for us honorably."
"You have been thinking of what I said regarding Luar'ka." Ikthya'de said quietly.
"I have. You are correct; she is honor bound now, as we are. To reveal her nature and strip her of that honor is tasteless. I will not breathe a word on the matter. I only pray that whatever you said to her takes effect, and soon. We can only hide it for so long, Mei'hswei."
Ikthya'de knew his brother was right, as usual. Than'ja had always been the more level-headed of the two of them. During their chiva, they had refused to follow their brash comrade sent on the test with them, as he continued to act rashly and dangerously in his desperation to pass. Ikthya'de and Than'ja had stuck together the whole way, annoying each other to death, but refusing to leave one another. They had encountered ambush after ambush, trap after trap, but they had pulled through. Ikthya'de knew he couldn't have done it if Than'ja hadn't been there to talk him back to his senses several times. And Than'ja had relied on his brother's sharp eyes and quick reflexes more than once, fending off two potentially fatal strikes of the kiande amedha's deadly tail. Predictably, their comrade was ambushed by several kiande amedha, and his death had not been a quick one. Even despite all the conditioning, the Yautja still felt pain and still had limits to how much pain they could handle at any given time. Ikthya'de was still somewhat haunted by what he'd heard that day. The ways in which they dealt with the crucial challenges of their youth were typically frowned upon by their elders. Young Yautja were expected to take care of themselves from a young age. The two of them had kept it on the low whenever they could about working together on casual hunts.
He shook his head, sighing heavily and took a few more deep drinks, chuckling in defeat as it began to take effect on his mind, "And here we had agreed that I would not give in first." he joked.
"We agreed to no such thing." Than'ja grumbled, wisely pacing himself, "As long as you do not throw any punches, we will not have an issue."
"Keep that attitude up and we will see." Ikthya'de quipped, flaring his mandibles out. Than'ja chuckled and sighed, "I may have made an error with this judgment." he mumbled to himself.
"What was that?"
"Nothing, Mei'hswei."
A/N: Okay, so apologies are needed. I was having problems with my computer. For the longest time, I couldn't highlight anything so I couldn't separate the chapter that needed to be published from the rest of the book. Then, my computer magically mixed itself while I was 35,000 feet in the air, so figure THAT one out. Anyway, here's the latest update and I'm currently 317 pages in. I'm very close to finishing. I hope you enjoyed and I hope you leave feedback. See you sooner than later, my lovelies.
~Luna