Page 26 of Ruby
Szhe’ka
Among the males of my species, coloring can often indicate temperament and until now, I never had to wonder whether it is so for all creatures. Looking at the color of Ree’s sister’s hair, I can almost understand why she is so intractable.
There have been many jests about how little red there is mixed in with my feathers. I always admired those who wore it proudly, and had the temperament to match.
However, we do not have time for this and I must try to make sure we get down from here before we can be found by any hunters.
After all, this is not far from where I last saw them and who knows what else this forest has to offer, we could get attacked by predatory animals too.
So far, it has proven unsuccessful to get the female down from the tree, as she is adamant that I am part of a plan with Ree tohurt her. It is almost funny how she should think that I am with the enemies when I too have been hurt by them and even though I want to show her and tell her of what they’ve done to me, I don’t think this is the right time. Right now, our focus needs to be getting ourselves off this tree and back to Ree and safety.
Some part of me wants her to get to know me without feeling immense pity for me.
I do my best to assure her that answers will come later. “I rescue from tree. Find sister. Explain.”
I try to sing as truthfully as possible but it seems that she has absolutely no trust in me. At first, I understood. Why would she trust a stranger after what the hunters have done to her? But the back and forth is exhausting and I wonder whether she is not grateful to be saved?
There is fear in her song and as much as I want to reassure her, I am also scared that someone will find us here. Night will begin falling soon and I cannot have us still out in the open if that happens.
Turning my head, I survey the land below us. It is still peaceful and I allow myself to relax a little bit. She has been singing with anger in her voice, but pitched to a quiet volume, so at least she has some sense of the danger. It is obvious that it is not native to her with the way her singing is forced but her voice is beautiful and her lungs strong so she does not lose breath easily like Ree did.
I find myself straining to balance the tumultuous emotions fighting for dominance in my chest. A large part of me isintrigued by this delicate creature and her odd movements, while the rest of me is drowning in rapidly mounting frustration at the circular conversation we have been stuck in.
Looking back at her, I try to speak again, lowering my voice. “Almost night. Cannot stay here. Danger.”
She refuses me again and my chest swells with annoyance.
It deflates just as easily when I think about what I am doing wrong. I have never been able to communicate with females properly and instead of learning, I allowed my unease to set me on my feet before the ritual was completed. It must be why communicating with the red-haired female is so hard.
I can sense her distrust and it hurts me that all I want to do is help and she believes the worst already without knowing me. She doesn’t even know my name and I don’t know hers either, even though I want to know the resonance and feel of it in my throat.
Although I do not know the possibility of any of that happening in this tree that she is refusing to get down from.
Lost in my thoughts, I do not notice that I am staring until she chirps at me to stop in a short, sharp song so I offer my apologies and it goes silent between us for a moment. Because of how she has herself folded in the silver cage, I cannot see all of her, but I cannot give up now.
There has to be a way to convince her that I am a friend and not a foe. Almost immediately, the skeleton of a plan begins to form in my tired head. I realize that she very likely will not have anyidea about the whereabouts of the hunters—the very beasts we are both running from.
If I can find a way to explain it to her, there might finally be a sense of urgency.
“Hunters below, will kill if hear.”
She says nothing and I feel encouraged.
Maybe my plan to explain who the real enemy is truly worked. I start to sing again, this time a wordless thrum meant to reassure a frightened hatchling but before I can build up the layers of resonance, she interjects with another chirp of annoyance, her bright-red eyes looking adamantly into mine.
She does not relent.
“There is danger, but I am not,” I promise her.
She lets out a strange sound thick with disbelief but she stops moving away from me.
I need her to move closer, and soon.
My impatience is growing at her behavior and I briefly entertain the idea of just leaving her to whatever grim fate would surely occur but I cannot break my word.
“Hunters hurt you, hurt Ree, hurt me.” I can hear her labored breathing as I sing, turning my back slightly so I can show her my mutilated wings. I get no reaction and her eyes seem unfocused as her breathing increases.
I know no matter how much she mistrusts me and Ree, it would be overpowered by the sheer fear she must have for the trespassers.
