Page 68 of Ruby
It is ironic that at a time when I was closer to the sky, my family would lie outstretched under the night sky and spend hours finding shapes in the stars. I took these things for granted, never wanting to study the night sky with my brothers because I supposedly had better things to do.
Ani starts a conversation, asking us to tell our favorite stories we were told as fledglings and Azoeul decides to go first.
He tells a tale of his people, strong and fast, and how they were once a small nation of fairly peace loving and docile people until an invasive species of aliens came down from the skies and forced them into slavery for many years. His peace-loving people didn’t even once think of revolt but instead grew strong under the oppression of their slave masters.
One day after the slaughter of an infant, his people rose up as one and washed the land clean of their former slave drivers in a flood of violence as alien to them as the people they visited it upon.
His tale is inspiring, and Ani says I am next so I force myself to remember all of the grand tales Nnaiv used to be popular for telling. I decide to tell the story of the Blue One.
Brightest of her aerie, though her sisters pecked at her shine. When she scented the coming talon-shadow, she cried warning, but her song went unheeded.
So in the hush of sleep she slipped from the perch and met the great dark-wing of the neighboring Shi’ell alone. She could not break him, but she drew him away, her alarm-song tearing the night until our aerie woke and rose.
Her death song she sang before dawn. Yet from that day, none named her smallest again. Only strongest.
“Beautiful story, Szhe’ka,” Ani cheers and Azoeul agrees.
Ani tells us a confusing story of prey riding the back of a predator across a river as Azoeul and I share quick, confused glances. Forthe first time, I see the utility of Azoeul’s language when there are no harmonics to betray the lie when I compliment her.
“I need to patrol tonight. We might be far from the hunters camp but they are good at what they do.”
Ani’s body trembles at the mention of the hunters but she shakes it off before we can express our worries.
“I will watch next,” I say, unwilling to be left out. Azoeul agrees and we watch him go off.
Watching his retreating back, I have other things to worry about, such as making a nest for Ani and I. Watching over her while she sleeps would give me more time to appreciate the beauty of her anatomy.
28
Ani
When Szhe’ka left to gather bedding for us, Azoeul returned in a flash like he was waiting for Szhe’ka to leave. I feared he would prove Szhe’ka’s fear and confess feelings to me; however, he proved me very wrong by reaching into his pocket and pulling out a black leather sheath from the pockets of his pants.
Maybe I’m just used to being around naked aliens or maybe it’s so dark that the trousers blend too well into the shadows with him but I forgot that he even wears clothes. He then pulls out a harmless wooden comb from the sheath and with a wave of his hand, it is double its length, and a thin blade pops out at the top.
“Wow,” I mutter and he hands it to me. The blade is dark, while the comb’s handle is a pretty mahogany brown. I observe it a little more in the light of the moon.
“I know that you are in capable hands, but this is a poisoned knife comb,” he continues to say as he hands the sheath to me.
I disengage the knife, hoping that the comb is not the part that brings out the blade because I haven’t used a comb on my hair in far too long. My hair hasn’t tangled yet but brushing it used to be a favorite pastime of mine that I won’t mind reliving.
“It is not lethal poison, but it will slow your opponent down quickly enough for you to escape.”
“Thank you, Azoeul. I hope I can use this on my hair too.” I joke and he laughs along before telling me that I can.
“I hope I will be back soon but I want you to always be alert,” he urged.
I don’t get to respond before he’s turning on his heels and zooming out, floating leaves in his wake. I thank him again, this time under my breath.
Szhe’ka returns to lead me to our resting place for the night. I lay on him as always, making sure to keep the comb woven in my hair, just at the perfect reach.
“Szhe’ka?” I sing, the overly revealing language ironically striking a dissonant chord in my brain.
But I have to do it. It might have been easy to only speak Azoeul’s language but now that he’s no longer here, I have to make an effort to meet Szhe’ka where he is.
He hums in response, letting me know he’s listening.
“Have…many regrets,” I pick my words carefully, translating them to a high-pitched chirping.
