To an outside observer, she might have appeared to be dozing, beak resting against her chest, her breaths slow and regular. She was not sleeping. Eldest Mother was watching through Third Son's Eye, the images bright and strong. Her own eyes were getting old and rheumy, their acuity not as keen as it was in her prime, but her mind was as far-seeing as always. Perhaps more so, as though lessening of her physical vision had amplified the internal Eye. She watched until Third Son and his Fledgling took wing before returning her awareness to her own perch.
One of her Daughters had brought the evening's offering to the den, and was waiting respectfully for her attention. She dismounted and crossed the atrium to accept the gift of life, gave the customary thanks, and released its essence into the One. The Sons and Daughters always took care that her portion was from the sweetest spot. Maybe with age her taste was fading along with her eyesight, but she ate from a sense of thankfulness and duty, then drank and washed when she was finished. She would not be untidy in her dotage.
She stretched carefully, smoothing her primaries into place. A young Daughter came to her, offering to groom the places that were now hard for her to reach. She hummed her consent and gratitude, and sang an ancient memory as Daughter smoothed and oiled scapulars and coverts.
After a time she felt the stir of air that announced an entry into the den. Third Son and Fledgling had arrived. She heard greeting songs, laden with curiosity. She watched as they entered the common area and summoned them to her. Third Son waited while the young one sang his adventure, the tale embellished through a great deal of excitement. Eldest Mother listened as she examined the material covering his injured leg. She snuffed, the smell was unlike any that had ever entered their den. It was an odor of things not of their Tribe, or even their world. Mingled with that was the organic scent left by the Salortog, the one Fledgling called 'Uncalenni'. The torn claw was neatly shorn with no smell of darkness. Mother thought it should heal and leave no disability. She hummed her approval despite her misgivings.
Fledgling finished his song, waiting expectantly. Mother sang it back to him, adding it to the Tribal story. She preened him a bit in thanks before sending him to eat and show off his mended leg to the others. Third Son watched him leave, then bowed to Mother. Her pupils dilated with loving regard, then constricted as she thought of the danger the Salortag presented to their world.
Third Son heard her doubt and spoke through their link. {This Salortog is different. He is Endilinti.}
Mother ruffled involuntarily. Third Son smoothed her mantle before speaking again.
{You saw the fire lights falling from the sky?}
{The fire lights have fallen before, even within my own story.}
{I saw him in my Eye. Now he is here. He is Endilinti.}
{He was afraid.}
Third Son thought of the rightness of her statement.
{Yes, for a short time. His Eye is shrouded. He sees only in glimpses.}
{Should Endilinti not see brightly?}
{Doktor sees brightness in other ways. He shines, but darkly. He is Healer to his people. To Fledgling.}
{Two names?}
Third Son's pupil constricted with humor.
{More. He is Doktor inside to himself. Yet he is also Uncalennie. Makoy. Bones. Linord.} He looked at Mother. {Name is not lifesong for the Salortog. Fledgling he calls Liddleburtee. He named me Py-a-saw.} He sent the word carefully and saw Mother turning it in her thought.
{A short calling for your story.}
{Their lives are short. They spend them alone. There is only Doktor inside his shell. No Tribe.} Third Son dipped his head in sorrow.
Eldest Mother touched her beak to his in comfort.
{Salortog are not like Tribe. Darkness is here. You see far. Do not forget to see with wisdom.}
{Doktor is Endilinti. It shall pass as was foretold.}
