Memories
Shadowchilde
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If you want to use Tora, or any of my other characters, PM me.
Tora blinked as the blazing sun dazzled her. A body. Great. Now what?
Some part of her took over, pointing her west slightly. She looked down, at calloused, worker's hands. Rough, homespun clothes. And the smell of a… oh, great. Mule. She glanced behind her. The big, limpid eyes of her travelling companion stared back. Tora sighed.
"Come on then. Let's get this over with."
They had barely been walking for ten minutes when Tora saw him. The body by the side of the dirt road, the puddle of blood. She ran forward and stopped ten paces away.
The man's skin was tanned. He was dressed in simple clothes and his black hair was shoulder-length. He may have been handsome, before those who attacked him had hit his face multiple times; breaking his nose and leaving him with two spectacular black eyes and a busted lip. His huge grey, white and black wings –falcon's wings, some part of Tora's mind supplied– were curled around his chest, shielding something.
"Shalom. I am a friend."
He looked up at her desperately.
"Help…me…"
"What do you need?"
"I…I need…home…"
"Let me dress your wounds."
He slowly, cautiously, unfurled his wings to reveal his torso. One glance at his stomach told Tora everything she needed to know. This man was dying. But clutched to his breast was a bundle of white rags that gave a plaintive mewling cry. Tora held out her arms for the baby and the man slowly, not-quite willingly, handed it over.
Tora peeled back the clothes to reveal black skin covered in the faintest of velvety fuzz, like the skin of a baby mouse. The eyes opened, revealing two silver moons. Tora smiled softly.
"She will need to be strong with an appearance like this."
"Then…let her name…be Etana…" Strength of the Lord.
Etana looked less than a few hours old. And then she let out another cry. Despite being three-thousand years and half a world away from home, Tora understood the cry perfectly. She looked at the man.
"Has she fed?"
He shook his head slowly.
"Her mother…dead…"
Tora closed her eyes and poked at Dragon.
Would you mind doing a bit of…editing to this body?
Why?
She will starve otherwise.
Tora rearranged the tunic she wore as Dragon rearranged the body she was using. She carefully placed Etana in the sling-like folds of cloth over her chest, hoping against hope Etana wasn't too tired. Apparently she wasn't, as after a bit of searching, she latched on and began suckling. Tora knelt down, tearing the lower half of her tunic to create strips of cloth for bandages. The man was staring at her with delirious eyes.
"You are one of us… Protect her…Please…"
Tora nodded once as she bound his stomach then helped lift him onto the mule –there had been a reason for the accursed animal after all. Then she began walking once more; Eitan almost comatose on the mule behind her, Etana feeding in the papoose. This could be quite amusing to tease the otherwise unflappable Shadow about.
She wasn't certain how far she walked or for how long, only that Etana had stopped feeding and gone to sleep and that Eitan was only a short way from death. His wings were drooping, the tips brushing the dust, clogging the feathers. No Cheyarifim would allow their wings to get so filthy if they were in any state other than dying.
Finally, she saw the small house and stopped, gently shaking Eitan awake and pressing a wet cloth to his lips.
"Is that your home?"
He nodded, barely able to move his head. She placed a hand on his face.
"Hold on. We are almost there. You want to say goodbye, do you not?"
His eyes pleaded her to get him there in time. Tora managed to hurry the mule along and eventually they reached the house. Tora hollered and a man walked out; his build that of a farmer, strong but quick. As soon as he saw the body draped over the mule, he let out a hoarse cry and ran forwards. Eitan managed to hold out a hand, squeeze his brother's in his and whisper something before a low gurgle emitted from his throat and both hand and head dropped. Achav screamed in wordless pain and a woman rushed out of the house in time to catch him as he fell to his knees. She muttered something and Achav glanced over at Tora then slowly got up, walked to her and knelt, leaning forward as if to kiss her feet. Tora crouched down before he could and placed a hand on his shoulder.
"I am sorry for your loss."
"How can I thank you for your compassion?"
Tora peeled back her clock, revealing the infant.
"Protect his daughter."
The look on the woman's face was sheer horror, in contrast with the sudden delight on her husband's. Tora carefully handed over the sleeping child, who seemed unaware she was now an orphan.
"Her mother is dead. I could not leave her."
Achav cradled the baby in his arms, gentle and loving, apparently ignoring her abnormal appearance. Tora bowed her head.
"Her name is Etana."
Then she turned and walked away, leaving the mule behind. She heard Mara should "Wait!" but by then she had already left the world.
"That was Etana's origin?"
"Yes, it was rather sad, wasn't it?"
"No, Tora never told me she had to… Oh, this is brilliant!"
"Phoenix, control yourself."
She staggered back into the farm courtyard the next morning, wearing a new body, her feathery hair and vestigial wings on her arms clearly marking her as inhuman –modelled on a Shi'ar but genetically a mutant– begging for shelter, claiming bandits had murdered husband, parents, children.
Achav and Mara willingly took her in, knowing they could rely on the woman who could never show her face to others to not reveal the existence of the midnight child and regarded the fact she had 'lost' an infant as a minor miracle.
She nursed Etana, sang lullabies in languages that did not exist yet and helped Mara around the house. They called her Fledgling and she never called them by name, referring to them as "Master" and "Mistress". She knew they did not believe her to be Hebrew because of her accent –actually a flawless modern Tel Aviv accent, perfected after a few days on a team-up with Sabra– but they did not question.
Gradually Etana began to smile, then laugh, then crawl, then toddle, stumbling and falling over things. Achav would laugh as small hands pulled at his tunic, the little giggling girl with ebony-velvet fur. The only time 'Fledgling' saw him get upset was when Etana called him "Abba". Father.. He had shaken his head and taught her the word for Uncle instead.
Mara avoided Etana as much as possible –Tora gradually began to understand the reason Etana described her aunt as cold. To the childless couple, the sudden inclusion of an infant had caused very different responses. Achav adored the idea of raising his brother's child. To Mara, it was just a harsh reminder of the children she was unable to have.
Etana was soon weaned and Tora's new body –no longer needed– soon gave way to its own frailties, succumbing to a short fever. Fledgling had lived for only a few handfuls of months but she had served her purpose.
The Shadow was still alive.
"Oh, such pain. Living then dying, over and over again."
A.N. I wanted to do something big for the 250th chapter and second birthday of Memories. So how better to celebrate than Etana's origin? I know lots of people wanted to know about her background so there you go. Consider it a present. Suma