Page 18 of Ruby
It is like singing with a lost voice and none of the melody. All rasps and guttural sounds.
I wait patiently and recall the place I woke up, wondering if I can even retrace my own steps, having been more concerned with surviving than tracking my positioning.
“We save other sisters. We thank your help,” Ree sings, her voice full of regret.
“Walk is long. I go. I bring. I die to keep not broken.”
I rise to my bloodied feet to let her know that I am serious. If there are more of her sisters out there, she will need to be strong to rescue them.
Ree hesitates and draws in a long breath before she responds to me, her song long and complex but letting me know that it is more complicated than she can truly explain.
I understand that.
“She will imprint. Like hatchlings, butwoman. Not fledgling, but changed by monsters. She need you if you open cage. Forever. Yours to protect. Be sure you know and choose.”
Her silent protector is no longer a mystery to me; he must have been her rescuer. The one she imprinted on.
I want to allow myself time to think about whether I am ready to care for something so helpless and fragile and probably even confused, but then I remember that just before my life was cut short, I was working toward starting my pairing. Someone to protect for the rest of my life, even after our nest empties out.
Even though this will not be the same, I know I can protect her, even if I have to give my life. It will be a better way to fall to grounding.
“I choose. I go. I bring back here.”
My song is final and I turn around to begin my journey. My legs still hurt but if it means that I save another creature from being caged, I will do it.
I will fight to make sure Ree’s sister is retrieved successfully.
Night starts to fall not too long after I leave Ree and Thivoll and I know that I must hurry if I want to rescue her sister before it is too late.
Ree mentioned that she is injured, and if she is covered in the same thin black skin as her, then she will also be cold. Ree might have Thivoll but she will not have anyone around to warm her up if I am not there and the thought saddens me but it makes me quicken my steps.
The pain of walking is nothing close to the pain of not fulfilling a promise.
7
Ani
It’s freezing.
From the tip of my toes to my fingertips, the gooseflesh travels like a speedy traveller met with an extended journey. Denied of my usual comforts, I reach out in an effort to mitigate the cold, but instead of touching my usual soft blanket, my hands touch something more unyielding.
Carpet? What?
My eyes snap open and blink a few times, trying to rearrange the scene before me into something that doesn’t resemble an alien planet. One by one, my senses return, and I can fully grasp the situation I’ve found myself in.
A whip of wind, the scent of it all wrong, coupled with the screeching of bird-like creatures like nothing I have seen before is all too real. Just like before, this is no movie set.
My heart immediately jumps to my throat. A familiar feeling of foreboding washes over me, and my vision begins to blur. The air starts to thin from my lungs, my fingernails digging into my skin. The cold creeps up my neck, numbing my ears. I know what this is.
I’m having a panic attack.
A sudden gust of wind violently pushes past, rocking my entire body. The few gasps of air left in my lungs are completely knocked out, leaving me gasping for air in a fetal position in my freezing container.
Take a deep breath. One. Two. Three. Inhale. Exhale. Deep breaths.
Panic attacks aren’t new to me. They littered my childhood, triggered by almost anything. There was the time I nearly got into an accident and spent the day crouched in a corner, mumbling to myself. My body also reacted the same way when my mother would call my full name, which usually meant I had done something unforgivable, and my punishment was inevitable.
My therapist often talked about the body overreacting when it’s used to stress.
