Chapter Two: Forgotten
Fiim was used to being passed through homes around the clan. To all the women he was nothing but a fleeting burden. They cared for him just enough to keep him alive, only to be passed off to the next apathetic sitter. Gradually the members of his clan began to care less and less until he was left out completely; cold and hungry. Desperation drove him to living in a small cavern near the entrance to the caves, where the warg pups were kept until large enough to hunt.
Many nights he lay among their coarse furred bodies for warmth, and many days he fought them for the food scraps the clan delivered.
These days Fiim was hardly ever spared more than a glance. He wore only what rags he could scavenge, and his hair was a knotted mess. Other Maur-hai children his age would have had their hair shaved or braided by their mothers to boast of their pride or strength. Fiim lacked any attributes to be boasted and he often wondered had his mother lived, what she would have done with his hair.
But as it was, he was dirty and he was avoided. There were only two who showed that they cared on any level. Though In Zurgarn's case, the Thrak-dag had birthed him, it was more pity than care. The other was Ilzkaal.
Ilzkaal. She was the closest thing he had to a friend and his only relief from his struggle of a life. Everything was so easy when she was near.
She would often come and talk with him about her own life and its happenings. The young girl would bring with her water and soap in a large wooden bowl; she would gently wipe the grime from his small face as she spoke to him with warm ease.
Though Ilzkaal was four winters his elder and of a much higher standing in the clan, she never made them out to be anything less than equals.
Fiim preferred listening over telling stories, and the things Ilzkaal spoke of were so very fascinating and alien to him.
Fiim now sat on the floor of the cavern. It was covered in cedar branches as a means of cushioning for the warg pups, and to stop them from dirtying themselves in the layers of shed fur and dirt lying underneath. When the grime would get particularly bad, Fiim would take it upon himself to sweep it from the entrance; as much for the wargs sake as his own. He had a fresh bite mark on his thin shoulder as he chewed on the spoiling meat he had won from a recent feeding.
He felt a sense of pride every time he won a fight. The wargs may have been very young themselves, but they were nearly his size and much more aggressive. There were many that were far stronger than him as well. Days he faced those of them were the days he went hungry, often with worse off injuries than the one he bore today.
One of the pups came close and eyed the small pile of winnings at Fiim's side hungrily. It looked weak and small, obviously a runt. It's fur was not the almost black shades of grey and brown similar to the others, but discoloured and red.
"Broshan shaûk-gaz. Ziimarum, Ushk. We are alike, you and I."
Fiim held out the rest of the meat he had been chewing with a long arm, and the warg took it greedily, devouring it in seconds. The pup looked at him curiously, wanting more. Its large rectangular head tilted to the side as it cautiously came closer. The runt sniffed at Fiim's outstretched leg and abruptly lunged forward. Fiim flinched, not expecting or wanting another fight for food. Instead, he felt the runt burrow under his arm and nuzzle roughly into his chest.
"There is little sense wasting food on such a small creature."
Fiim turned to see Ilzkaal standing at the opening of the den.
"He will likely not live to see the winter." She came closer and knelt before him and his new companion.
"Ilzkaal, ziimarum." He offered her the customary greeting.
"Ziimarum, Fiim."
"I wonder what would have happened had others thought the same of me," He looked back down at the little one and gave it a rough scratch behind one ruddy ear, "It likely would have been true."
"Zurgarn would not have let you die, Hururz-ash."
"Perhaps not."
"Speaking of Zurgarn, I must bring you some of her slave on the next time I visit." She said eyeing the bite mark on his shoulder where it still slowly oozed dark blood.
There was a moment of silence between the two of them and Fiim looked as if he had been shunned.
"Though perhaps you will not have to fight the pups for a day. Teacher showed us how to make Maathmuz today and I brought mine." Ilzkaal brought out three small balls of light coloured bread. The smell of honey hit Fiim's senses and his mouth began to water. "Shoe that small beast away and we will talk and eat."
She sat beside him on the ground and the pup gave a small squeak of protest as Fiim pushed him gently away. Ilzkaal passed him one of the small buns and he brought it to his nose, inhaling deeply.
"Golm-lat, Ilzkaal." He took a small bite of this treat, planning on savoring it for as long as he could. His companion did the same. For a while they sat in comfortable silence and ate. Once almost half of his bun was gone, Fiim spoke between small bites. "Tell me about teacher and the others." he said curiously.
Ilzkaal swallowed and her pointed ears folded back as her face scrunched in thought, "Teacher is strict as she always is. She is not afraid to clout an inattentive pupil over the ear if she must. The others are afraid of her, but I admire her strength."
"How many are there?"
"There are nine pupils, including me." She took another bite. "Mother says that Zuzar wants to forge Hûn-nur with me. She says that is why started befriending me."
"What is… Hûn-nur?" Fiim looked at her quizzically, momentarily forgetting his bun.
"It is… hard to explain." Her face turned to a contemplative expression,"It is what mother and father have. It is...a bond. It is a thing that... best friends and lovers have. Mother says it's not always the same."
"Oh." He looked away and his dark cheeks flushed. "Do you feel the same about this Zuzar."
"Of course not!" Ilzkaal answered immediately, looking at him as if he were completely insane. He was a little shocked to see her react so strongly and his eyes widened. "He is dull, coarse, and noisy." She raised a hand to the corner of her mouth like a shield and leaned in closer. Fiim did the same and she whispered into his pointed ear. "He is a complete gâdhûmûrz flâgît." She sat back and giggled hard into her hand while Fiim laughed at the sheer sight of her mirth.
They sat and talked like this for some while until Ilzkaal was forced to leave by the promise she had made to her mother to be home for dinner. She had left Fiim the third bun and he held it in his hands examining it for a long time, thinking, her promise of a soon return echoing in his mind.
Perhaps someday he might be able to join the children in their lessons. For friends he only needed this one, but perhaps to interact with more than just wargs would be enjoyable. To leave his little cavern, it had been so long it seemed. What if things have changed? What if the clan has changed? Maybe they might accept him, for hearing her stories he yearned so deeply to become a part of life here. Someday hope might win out.
Hûrûrz-ash: Brave one
Broshan shaûk-gaz. Ziimarum, Ushk: Welcome small companion. Peace, eat.
Maathmuz: Sweet bread
Golm-lat: There's no Black Speech word for thank you, so I had to make my own.
Gâdhûmûrz flâgît: Foul idiot