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 Posted: Sat Nov 09, 2013 4:36 pm
The Lonesome Campsite- 880 words
NUAWAHN!
NUA, SWEETHEART, WE'RE GOING.
DO YOU HAVE YOUR THINGS, NUEY?
He had his things! They were packed in a bag he had slung at his back, and a few on La'amu. She was there, beside him. She was always there. Purple mountains were surrounded by yellow haze and had a glow of their own. They were behind him, almost unreal.
COME ON, SWEETIE.
He looked at the mountains. They looked so distant, so unreal.
YOU'LL SEE THEM AGAIN, NEUY, BUT WE HAVE TO GET GOING. UNLESS YOU'RE NOT COMING AFTER ALL?
"Okay, Su..." he said. His cousin's laughter was rich and deep, like the nut and herb soup that Takoda had given him. He had said that it had tasted bad, that Nuawahn should eat it anyway. But Nuawahn had liked it, especially because it was bitter.
Takoda was over there, far away from the mountains. He had to follow Suen to find him.
HOW ARE YOU FEELING
WHAT HAPPENED
YOU ARE FAR FROM HOME
Suen's reassuring warmth was gone. Nuawahn was looking up at the sky, and it was black and star-less, an open, gaping void. He was afraid of it, that black void. He would fall in. He would fall up.
FAR FROM HOME
He knew what would happen next.
Stars were in the sky now, but they weren't stars. They were teeth, gleaming white and solid against the nothing.
No, they weren't teeth, they were pearly, eerie threads, reaching out to grab him.
He couldn't get away. He tried to shake them away, but his arms were heavy, his legs were heavy, and he couldn't move. The world around him felt like thick syrup as the threads dragged him up, up, up.
RUN!
He was on the sands, the hot white sands. He couldn't move.
RUN NUAWAHN
It was too hot. He wanted to run, but he couldn't move. Sunlight, hot hot light, glinted off of metal...
RUN AWAY!
And off of bright red.
RUN
The red painted the white sand red, and it flowed along the ground. He wanted to run, but the white threads held him. They were sticky and they tingled where they met his skin.
RUN
The sand smelled like nightmares and sickness and death. He wanted to not breathe the smell, but he had to breathe. If he turned away from the sand, everything would hurt.
Metal glinted in the light behind his closed eyes. It was a metallic red, like the sun when it sets.
RUN
The red sand was flowing towards him. He felt the threads give way. He could move again! He ran. He ran and ran and ran.
RUN, NEUY.
He wasn't fast enough. It overtook him. It always would, a tide of red sand and faces and indescribable things.
And then there was only darkness.
~~~
Nuawahn had been up too late at the campfire the night before. He had overslept until La'amu had tried to wake him, and then he had slept some more until she shoved him out of bed and licked his face with a snort of annoyance.
He had been tired and moved too slowly on the road, and now here he was. He was at the campsite he had hoped to meet his family at, but he was all alone. They had moved on. Nuawahn didn't generally get grumpy, but he was pretty close to it on this dark Sauti night. He should have woken up. He should have found everybody today. And now he had to wait a whole other day.
He didn't like not being around people, especially not when he had been looking forward to being surrounded by them. It was frustrating to think that, if he had only moved faster and gotten up earlier, he would be sitting with them right now. Instead, they didn't even know he was back. They were camping ahead of him, and he was camping alone. Well, not entirely alone, he had La'amu with him. But Amma didn't count because she was always there, and always would be.
He couldn't remember a time when Amma wasn't there with him. She had been around longer than he was. She was his best friend, his confidante. She was like an old aunt, always pestering him and taking care of him. She was an adult and she was smart and big and protective, and he had never understood why grown ups wouldn't let him play just under her supervision. Capramels could protect their herd, and she was protecting him. Sure, she wasn't a earthling, but she understood things, even though she couldn't talk. She was his caretaker, and that was all that mattered to him.
She was old, he knew that. Her nose was grey and he had noticed that she walked a little bit stiffer nowadays, like her joints weren't working. But she would never leave him. Never ever ever. The thought was an impossibility to Nuawahn.
He set up his bedroll next to the warm fur of his capramel, giving her a kiss on the head. He smiled as she flicked an ear in response and laid down.
He would get up bright and early tomorrow morning and track down his family. He would see them.
Tomorrow. Definitely tomorrow. For real, this time.
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Posted: Sat Nov 09, 2013 4:39 pm
Making an Entrance - 748 words
Nuawahn's heart and feet seemed to skip a beat in their regular rhythm as saw and heard a troupe of colorful figures ahead of him on the rocky path. He had found them! He had found his family!
He could see them starting to take down the gear- they would be stopping to make camp soon, he knew. And he would be there. His soul felt like it sang with joy and anticipation. He had been waiting so long and was so nervous about seeing everybody again- It wasn't something definable, just a vague excitement, a tingle along his nerves, and a weight pressing against his stomach. He felt awkward trailing along behind them instead of being a part of their group. He felt a bit odd about walking into the camp. But at least that would buy him some time to think and still the nerves that threatened to ruin their reunion. He wouldn't buy that much time, though. Wind nomads knew how to set up camp quickly. By the time he was noticed, the tents were already up. They watched him warily, some pointing him out as he approached. He smiled broadly and lifted a hand in greeting.
"Hey!" he called, "Got room for a traveller?"
They appraised him, looking him up and down. "Sure.” they said, finally, “You got a tent?"
"Yup!"
"Good, Then you can set up with us." He vaguely remembered the speaker, an older boy he remembered annoying for the fun of it. Others, he recognized as well, though the names eluded him for the time being. As he walked into the camp, he felt a sense of belonging and returning, a feeling that he had been starved for. He hadn't realized he had missed it, not until he felt it in the cooling half-light of dusk. He hadn't found it in Emeka, or in Yera, but he hadn't noticed its absence before now.
He found an empty space to set up his tent. La'amu lay down nearby, watching him and everybody else work dispassionately. "Nice Capramel. She yours?" said a wind tribesman, leaning against a rock, watching Nuawahn work. Nuawahn found he couldn't recognize this one, though he was familiar. The memory of a youngling was fickle and spritely and everything was fuzzy and built out of concepts. Things had been a lot bigger then, and simpler too. He wasn't unnerved- this should have been expected after years of being away. People change over time- it was just a thing people did.
"Mmmhmm." said Nuawahn, pausing in his labors to give the man a bright smile, "She'll let you pet her if you're gentle."
La'amu huffed. She would tolerate being petted by a not-quite-stranger- she knew his scent, vaguely. But she would only do so because she didn't care enough to put in the effort she would need to shake off his hand.
"You know, we used to have a capramel that looked just like this." he said, offering a carrot to Amma, who accepted it with indifferent dignity, "Well-built thing, with red fur..." he stood up from, walking over to investigate the nearly set up tent.
"She was always following this kid around. Never left his side, dragged him back when he wandered off. Funniest thing you ever saw."
Nuawahn smiled softly. He remembered being pulled back to camp by his capramel, back when she was bigger than him. It had been funny, indeed.
"She even had an actual name, not the crappy little placeholder names you give to the ones in the herd. La'mi? No... that wasn't it." he shrugged, "Whatever. Shame about what happened to the kid, though."
"What happened?" Nuawahn's attention was piqued. Definitely, the capramel was his Amma, and the kid was him. So, what happened that was a shame? To him? He felt a faint but undefinable sense of hollowness, a waryness cloaked with curiousity.
"Well..." the man hesitated, then busied himself helping to set up the tent, "Uh..."
"Well what?"
The man seemed agitated, and Nuawahn's discordant feeling grew, at first a tingle in his awareness, then a deepening pit in his stomach. But surely he was imagining it. Nothing was wrong, everything was fine...
"... Nevermind.” said the man quickly, “I shouldn't have brought it up." He left hastily, leaving Nuawahn intrigued and frustrated. But there was no issue. He'd find a way to get this story told at the campfire, because, he sensed, it was a story. About him.
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Posted: Sat Nov 09, 2013 4:43 pm
The Tale Beyond Memory - 1450 words
The campfire was familiar to him, as was the smell of the food roasting on it. The faces of the people that sat with him occasionally clicked with names in his memory, but often did not. So much had changed. These people all seemed older, wiser, and- he thought- sadder. What had made them sad, he wondered.
There were a lot fewer people than he remembered. The absences were, to him, the most striking. Where was cousin Suen? Where was her father, his Uncle? Or his Brother? Or his Aunt? And where was his own Father? He had always been such a big figure, and his absence didn't make sense.
Well, he thought, desperately trying to keep his hopes up, Maybe they just aren't around the fire yet. Maybe they were elsewhere in the camp, or elsewhere in Sauti, doing grown-up chores. That had to be it. He couldn't listen to the sense of wrongness that whispered half thoughts that threatened to darken his mood. He turned to the man he had talked to before.
"So. Tell me about that kid. I'll trade you- a story for a story. I'm a traveller, I've been all across Tendaji!"
He wanted to hear the story about the boy- about himself- before doing anything else. They clearly didn't recognize him, and it would be more dramatic and awesome to reveal who he was after a story had just been told. "... I'll even go first." said Nuawahn, winking before launching into his story.
It was a story from his time in Jahuar. He told them about a small celebration for an Alkidike hunting party he had witnessed in Emeka. They had sung songs of victory in their language. The foreign words he only half remembered had made the songs invoke the fire, the creature, and the Alkidikes themselves. Their dances had been ferocious and beautiful. They had let him play with the other younglings without so many dirty looks that day, and he had even been allowed to share in the cooking. They had told stories late into the night of battles and hunts past. It had been a lot of fun because of the stories, but also because of the colors. They had worn festival gear when they had danced, and the cloth had floated around them as they moved, as if they were a force of nature and not simply warriors.
He was not exactly a natural storyteller, but he was observant and he remembered the little details of the scene that mattered. His thoughts and feelings and emotions lent it a rough authenticity that was definitely of value in a story. He watched the other man begin to relax a bit as he finished.
"Your turn!" he said, cheerfully.
"Well..." the wind man looked around, "I... guess I can tell you. Anybody mind if I tell this traveller about... about the trading group?"
There were murmurs and uncomfortable shrugs. Nuawahn strained to listen to the whisperings that passed between the people, but the fire's merry crackling covered their darkening voices.
"He's a traveller. He's been to Jahuar. Maybe he knows something, or has heard something..." said a voice, loud enough to be heard over the fire. It was accompanied by nods, and the man turned to Nuawahn.
His name was Jorii. Jorii the scout, the man who went ahead of everybody and met them at the next campsite. Jorii the trickster who used to do magic. Not real magic, but the sort of magic that you do with nimble hands. Jorii the magician and youngling sitter. Jorii. Family. Yet so different. Nuawahn could have sworn that Jorri hadn't looked so old and worn when he last saw him.
"Well," he began, "It was a few years back, when we first started hearing stories of the tall, green, jungle women. One of the group- her father-” he gestured at a woman that Nuawahn recognized as his own sister, Ninash- but she looked different too, like she held a great weight on her shoulders that only grew heavier with every word Jorii spoke ”Caro, wanted to try securing a trading route. He thought that exotic goods from those far off lands would make our group wealthy. If we had trader-kin, we could buy more capramel and do more business. We could become an important family, maybe even find seats at the council. Or so he said. Some of us thought it was foolish. We'd heard about people trying similar sorts of journeys and returning half dead or empty handed, if they returned at all. 'Its dangerous' we said, 'it's not worth it'. We had a good life, didn't we?" there were nods, "We didn't think we needed to try something so drastic as forging a new trade route. But some were willing to see what would happen. 'We're hardy folk', they kept saying, 'We're used to travelling in harsh lands. We can handle ourselves'. We told them that their pride would kill them. They told us that they were proud of their pride, which was an awfully silly thing to say.
Either way, a big group of us got together. Mostly older fighters and a few magic users from our group, and a few people from another troupe. A prentice or two went with them, to help take care of the herd of capramel they brought with them for trading. They took some of the best stock, but we didn't protest. We had started to believe, you know? Maybe it would turn out great. These were our best people, experienced and seasoned travellers all. They were all set to leave when the kid, the little rascal..." Jorii stopped, smiling sadly, "Nu, I think, was his name...”
”Nuawahn.” said Ninash, ”My little brother. His name was Nuawahn.” she said, her voice heavy. Nuawahn wondered why she looked at the ground when she spoke. She had been so big and strong and brave... so why was she sad? What on Tendaji was going on with this story?
”Yes, right, that was his name... sorry, Nina.
Anyway, he came up to the group leader- his father's brother, I think- and begged to come. They told him no. He begged and begged and begged and, when that didn't work, he started playing pranks on them... I remember catching him at it..." he nodded at one of the others, "Remember what he used to do? He used to swap their packs with our packs, or herd the capramel away, or steal their tents. He was a tricky one." Jorii sighed. "Well, the kid was crafty and persuasive and damn adorable to boot. He eventually got his way. His Ma wasn't happy about him going, but one of the elders thought that it would be a good idea to bring him along. Something about younglings being 'disarming' or 'trust-building'. We were eventually convinced. He was travelling with family, with seasoned warriors and explorers, and he had family with him. We thought that, with his father and brother and cousins watching, it would be okay." Jorii shrugged, "... and theres not much more to tell about that... They left the camp with their herd and some goods, and..." Jorii's voice caught on the harsh sound of choked back tears. "And that was the last we saw of them. We asked after them when we were in the western settlements, but there was nothing. No word at all. They were gone." he broke down crying, a nearby wind tribesman patting him on the shoulder, cautious of the crystals.
Nuawahn knew his name too: Hirim. And the others: Oma, Kaltz, Girshe... His cousin Ohi. Names, people he recognized, people who were familiar to him.
In a way that the story was not. It was, almost with complete certainty, about him. He knew the little kid in the story. He was the kid, he was little Nu the trickster.
But he didn't remember the event at all. Not even a fragment or two of memory. No trading group, no tricks, no leaving. Nothing.
Was this it? Was this the gap in his memory that had itself nearly been forgotten? Was this the reason he had found himself in Jahuar?
"Please, traveller. You... You've been far and wide. Have you... heard of them, maybe? From the Alkidikes, or maybe the black and white folk? Or the leaf tribe? Or spotted some sign of them in your travels?" Hope shone in the dried eyes of Jorii the magician, hope that Nuawahn felt draining away to nothing under his own feet.
Where were the others? Where were his family? Where were the others that Jorii had said were in the group?
Nobody had the answers.
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Posted: Sat Nov 09, 2013 4:55 pm
Reunion - 1442 words
"No..." said Nuawahn. The crackling of the fire was no longer so merry to his ears. It was cruel, now- almost cold. It was odd thinking of fire as cold. Fire was usually so warm, casting its orange light on the world. It made even the most barren and frigid snow friendly and inviting. But just now it was not casting light, but shadows. The shadows brushed menacingly over everyone and everything he knew, over every memory he had had among these tents, over the strange gap between his mother's bosom in Sauti and the Shifter's cool hands in Jahuar, a gap in time he was acutely aware of now. "I'm sorry"
Nuawahn saw Jorii lose his last shred of hope. The man slumped, deflating quietly "No, no. Don't worry about it. It was a long shot. Well, theres the story, I guess, for what it's worth..."
"No..." Nuawahn interrupted him, "I'm sorry." he said, his head down, watching the embers cast their red light at his feet. He was trying to remember the story for himself, the part he had played, anything about the group, anything in the gap between. Anything at all. And he had nothing.
"I can't remember."
”Remember what, kid?” asked Jorii, curiously.
He should know. He needed to know. They needed to know. He was the boy in the story and he should be able to remember. He was letting them down.
Suddenly, he wanted to hide from it all and just be a traveller again, of little but passing interest. "Anything." he said, unable to meet Jorii's eyes, ”And I should... I should be able to.” This was his entrance, he supposed. The big dramatic one, full of joy. Was that all he had thought about? Had he even thought about the resources that a party would cost, or the worry he would have to have caused for such joy to happen? Not once had he thought that his family might be worried about him from across the word, or that something terrible had happened to leave him in the jungle with only Amma for company. Jorii said he had seen Nuawahn leave with the group that Nuawahn . Jorii hadn't seen them return. They all thought that the trading party was dead. All those people might be dead. They thought that Nuawahn was dead.
They had thought he was dead.
Chills danced along Nuawahn's spine even as his hands grew toasty with warmth. They thought he was dead. It was a frightening thought. He was very much alive.
"I... think I am that boy. From the story." he bit his lip, his gaze turning to his sister, whose eyes were now on him, intent like a hawk's. It was the expression she had when she was trying to determine if he was in trouble or not. He felt like he was in trouble, though he didn't know what he had done.
”What are you talking about, kid? What do you mean?” The group looked at him collectively as well, trying to figure out what he meant.
"I'm Nuawahn" oh why didn't they understand how hard it was to say his own name. He had caused so much pain to them, he realized that now. He had been bad, terribly terribly bad. "I've been living in Jahuar and the Tale. I didn't know how..." his voice cracked, "How I got there from here. Now... I... Guess I do..." he hesitated. The looks grew intense, and some turned hard, like stone, and others turned distant and uninterested. It felt, at that moment in the firelit darkness of the night, that a veil was being lifted from his life. Things became clear in ways he wished they hadn't. He had been so naïve before. But now, he felt like he was growing up too quickly. He didn't know if he could catch up.
They think I'm lying. he realized, They think that I am a con artist, that I heard their story and am using their hope to cheat them somehow. It didn't matter that he would never do anything of the kind, or that he couldn't conceive of anybody who would actually do such a thing. It was such a cruel thing to do. And yet... hadn't he been doing something like it all his life? Using his looks and cleverness to trick others? It had all been in good fun and usually was to everybody's benefit, but it could easily be turned into something very, very bad. He felt full of shame, like a liar and a cheat, even though he was none of those things. He was Nuawahn, simply Nuawahn.
"Gods..." exclaimed someone in a soft whisper, and Nuawahn met their eyes, the sharp intense blue of his sister, Ninash. He remembered her eyes so well. He had told her that they were like a Raptrix's eyes- focused and beautiful. She had laughed and told him to keep the compliments coming. "Those eyes...It is you..."
"I thought you looked familiar..." said another person, in almost disbelieving awe. His sister had recognized him, so it had to be him indeed, not some impostor preying on their sorrows. Restrained anger became relief and restrained joy.
"Get Wahani. Get her now.” said Jorii, ”Go. Now. She'll want to see her son. in the flesh."
Two figures- he couldn't see their faces behind the firelight- bolted up and soon returned with a third figure. She was familiar, her grey-blue eyes reminders of reassurances past. They had once been soft and lovely, like polished small stones. He didn't remember his mother's eyes looking so old, or the face they were set in being so folded up. It wasn't just the wrinkles of time, but a collapse of the face and the structure beneath, as if she had been hurt. By him. He had hurt her, he realized.
When she saw him, her face lightened, seeming to unfold into something more like the smooth face of the mother he knew. "Nua... Wahn...? Nuwahn?" she moved closer, heedless of the heat of the fire until Ninash nudged her to the side. "Nuawahn... its... its you... Your eyes... I... I would know your sparkling eyes anywhere..." she moved forward achingly slowly, reaching a hand out as if he would vanish into vapor. "I thought... I thought that Bergchi had taken you away from me..." her voice was quiet. He remembered how she had sung sweetly and spoken kindly. Now her every word was like a nail being driven into his soul, one that hurt even as he wanted her to keep talking. He had missed her voice so much. "My little ray of sunlight... My darling little sunbeam..." the shock broke and she surged forward, gathering him into a inevitable hug. She pressed him tightly to her, weeping into his hair. It was warm and comfortable in her arms, yet Nuwahn hurt. "Oh my baby... my dear Nuawahn... My son... You... You're alive." he hugged her close in the firelight, aware of her scent- that mixture of warm soft blankets and the comforting, oily scent of life that had calmed many a bad dream- and the vibrations of her voice.
"It's... its me. I'm back..."
It was all he could say.
There was quiet... and then someone cheered. It spread like a contagion of giddiness from the purity of the moment. A mother had found her son alive. A family had regained something, some small thing, of what it had lost. Nuawahn heard the cheers and buried his face in his mother's long soft hair- like his own, but straighter- trying to block them out.
I have my party he thought bitterly, They are all celebrating my return. All the attention is on me. he drew back to look at his mother's face. It was no longer collapsed on itself, wettened as it was by tears of joy. But it still bore wrinkles and had a slightly sickly look in the firelight. He bet those were his fault. He had hurt his mother by a reckless act of adventure that he didn't even have the decency to remember.
Someone gave him a slap on the back and offered him a piece of the roast- the best piece. It would have been rude to refuse. They began to sing and dance, the group suddenly energized into action.
I have my party he thought as he listened to the now lively campfire scene. I have what I wanted he thought as the too-few members of the troupe came over to stare at this miracle that had walked into their camp.
It's great his eyes were cast downward, at the glowing embers that sparkled in the tears that filled his eyes. Its just... wonderful
He closed his eyes, hearing the merriment swirl around him and through him in the darkness.
I deserve none of this
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Posted: Sat Nov 09, 2013 5:05 pm
Renew Anew - 731 words
It had been a whole week, and Nuawahn still felt wrong. It was as if he had stepped into a life that wasn't his. Ninash and his mother kept a watchful eye on him- they weren't about to let him vanish again- and it made him feel uncomfortably ethereal. The whole situation felt tenuous, like the edge of a dream. No matter how he scoured his mind, he could find nothing in the blank emptiness between home in Sauti and the hot Jahuar jungle. No clue, no hint, nothing to tell him what could have happened to everybody else. He felt as though he was supposed to have all the answers. He was the only one to return, and everybody expected him to have something. But he had nothing. That was all- nothing. It was almost solid in its nothingness, and it taunted him as he went through the motions of everyday life with his family. He felt like he had failed them all somehow by coming back with nothing.
It hurt to be the source of their pain and not know why. It hurt to know that the world could cause such pain. He caught their sidelong looks and knew that every time they saw him, they remembered that so many others had not come back. Their fathers, cousins, brothers, sisters, Aunts, and uncles had gone on the journey with him, and only he had returned. And he had nothing to tell them.
He had thought that the pain would go away eventually, that people would treat him normally after a few days. That was what he had told himself that first night as he lay awake in his mother's tent. But now, after a week of trying to struggle through everyday life, he knew that their pain was far too deep to gloss over. He would never be able to stop hurting them.
Tonight, on the dusk of the seventh day, he stared at the fire and willed it to illuminate something of the nothingness in his head, tensing his muscles as if they could force it to burn away whatever dark memories he had buried. But, as usual, the darkness inside was impenetrable. It was like nothing was there, nothing at all for an entire chunk of time. He could remember what happened before and after, but in between there was just... blankness. On other nights, he had given up and left to, almost mechanically, prepare the night's food. Tonight, though, he wanted to try something different. He had gotten an idea while walking, one that he wanted to try.
He closed his eyes to the warm orange glow of the fire and breathed slowly and carefully, relaxing into a meditative state like he had been taught to do by a healer in Sol. He found his magic, that pool of sunlight within him, like he had done several times before with his light spells. Those other times, the pool had been deep and radiant and warm. Now, it was shallow and thin. It warmed as he stirred it in his mind, brightening as he pulled it towards him.
The nothingness seemed to eat away the light of his magic, and it faded away as he tried to use it. It illuminated nothing. He opened his eyes to glare at the fire again, frustrated.
”Nu, did you know you're glowing?” said a voice from behind. He turned, startled, to see his sister watching him. He blinked, surprised, and looked at his hands. A glow, faint and white, was slowly fading from them.
”No.” he said simply.
”We'll get you training, okay Nu? Don't you worry.” she said, putting a strong hand on his shoulder and squeezing before going off to tend to La'amu, who had taken her place by their tent.
He watched the last of the glow fade away from his hands and shook his head. He wasn't worrying, really. He was just sad and frustrated, but he couldn't tell her that. Every time he had tried to tell her how he felt, she had talked over him. It was clear that she wanted everything to be okay, too. He could sympathize, but he could also tell that things would never be okay.
And yet, as the last of the glow faded away from his body and was lost to the pitch black night, he felt better.
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Posted: Sat Nov 09, 2013 5:19 pm
Piece by Piece - 1495 words
The group of three rocks in the middle of the empty plain scared him. There was no reason why they should make his palms sweat and his heart beat wildly, he thought. But they did. Fear, dark and clammy, rose to the surface of his mind as he started at the rocks. These rocks were important, and that only meant one thing: He had to approach.
He walked closer, reaching out to touch the rocks. He flinched back at their hardness, and laughed, bringing his hand back in a stinging slap. They were just that. Rocks. Pieces of Tendaji jutting out in this desert. He sat against them, resting from the trying desert walk.
He rubbed his hand against the rock, feeling their sand-blasted smoothness under his fingers. Why did he fear them? They were just rocks. Something brilliantly, blindingly white caught his eye, buried in the sand at the base of the formation. He stooped curiously, balancing himself against his own pack as he brushed the sand away. It was a skull; A great, white, gaping skull. It's empty eyes stared longingly at the sky, and it's teeth grinned starkly at the young earthling. Nuawahn reeled back, startled.
It was a human skull and, slowly, it turned to look at him.
~~~
NUAWAHN
NUAWAHN
ITS OKAY SWEETHEART
IT WILL ALL BE OKAY
THEY'LL JUST TAKE A FEW THINGS AND THEN THEY'LL LET US GO.
DON'T BE AFRAID, NEUY.
DON'T BE AFRAID.
~~~
He'd been having these strange dreams ever since he had found his family. They were like his usual nightmares, but clearer, not the usual dark maelstroms of chaos and fear and confusion. No, they were a definite series of events. They had become far clearer and more crystallized when he had tried to unlock his lost time with his magic. He wondered what they were and what they meant, if anything.
~~~
The skull was not leering at him, and was not threatening. Instead, Nuawahn could see that it was looking at him with bone-silent concern. He didn't know how he knew this, but he patted it's smooth head anyway. It made a sound like a cross between a sob and a scream, and it echoed in the desert wilderness...
~~~
DON'T BE AFRAID.
IF WE GIVE THEM OUR GOODS, WE'LL BE JUST FINE, NUAWAHN.
SO YOU DON'T NEED TO WORRY, OKAY?
He wasn't worried. He didn't understand why the strange people had weapons out. They were a band of people, just like them. They looked so angry, and he didn't understand. He wasn't too worried, though! Grownups got angry sometimes, for the oddest reasons. Still, they didn't usually take out weapons unless bad things were about to happen.
RUN
RUN FAST AND FAR, SWEETHEART.
IT WILL ALL BE ALL RIGHT.
IT WILL ALL BE OVER SOON.
He didn't know why the people with the weapons didn't smile when he did. Most grown ups smiled when he did, but maybe these people were very sad. Maybe he could do something else to make them happy?
~~~
RUN, NUA, RUN!
DON'T STOP
DON'T LOOK BACK
RUN!
They had smiled, blindingly white, gap-toothed smiles. White like the moonlight reflected in the endless ocean of sand...
RUN!
He smiled back at the weapon people.
RUN!
The weapon-people approached, step by step.
RUN! RUN NOW!
Nuawahn had a theory. These dreams were so clear: They had elements of reality mixed with dream logic. As he lay awake, his heart pounding from the urge to run away from something he did not understand, the Moracker snorting nearby, he thought that maybe he understood what it all meant. Maybe he had shaken something loose from the nothingness with his magic. Maybe this was what had happened to him, to an extent. He didn't want to return to the dreams- they made him feel as though something was crawling cruelly on his skin- but if they were telling him what had happened in that lost time, he had to. He lay down and, with many reservations, closed his eyes and willed sleep to come.
~~~
He hid behind the white teeth of the tale and covered his ears, but the terrible sounds reached him anyway. He closed his eyes, but he still saw the horrible things. He blocked his nose with the roof of his tongue but he still smelled the smell of metal. There was death everywhere.
NUEY
The voice called from somewhere beyond and he hid.
NUEY... IT'S ME? SWEETHEART? ARE YOU ALL RIGHT?
He hid. It was Suen, but he hid because he knew what she had done.
OH NUAWAHN... YOU'RE ALIVE. HE'S ALIVE!
OH THANK THE GODS.
HOW MANY
MOST OF US. THEY TOOK THE CAPRAMELS.
THEY ESCAPED?
THE BASTARDS.
AT LEAST WE'RE ALIVE.
Suen had a special smell, like warm oil and metal and flowers. He was surrounded by it and he was safe.
IT'S OKAY NOW, NEUY. IT'S ALL GOING TO BE OKAY.
He didn't understand what he was safe from.
~~~
Sometimes he would have the same dream twice, sometimes it would be different. Sometimes it would end differently, or start differently, but it would always be the same in the middle. The same events would play out, the same feelings would hit him in the same ways. He tried to see beyond the immediate details and find what secrets lay beyond. It was difficult, but there was something there.
~~~
A thin line of blue became an azure lushness. He touched his father's crystals, but not the yellow boils that bubbled in his skin.
DON'T TOUCH THOSE NEUY. THEY'RE BAD.
His father was cold and limp, like so many others.
WHERE ARE THE PEOPLE IN THIS GODSFORSAKEN HOLE OF A JUNGLE.
LETS KEEP GOING. SURELY WE WILL FIND SOMETHING.
They left everybody behind.
~~~
Wispy threads stretched from tree to tree. They gleamed dull and white and turned the trees into skeletons. It was so quiet here that the water whispered beneath the muck. Yet the travellers were not alone- eyes watched them. He knew they were there. He walked close to Suen, scared.
ITS OKAY NEUY.
NO ITS NOT SUEN, WE'RE LOST.
WE WILL FIND A WAY.
Nuawahn was quiet because he was looking. Something was coming, and he knew it. Coming... coming... now!
Sticky threads, invisible and tender blocked the path. They tingled where they struck, and he felt numb as he pulled back.
And then, with a Capramel's bellow, they were gone. All was warmth and Amma's smell as he moved quickly away from the land of death.
No! He was leaving them behind. But his body was numb and Amma was moving quickly. He could do nothing but snuggle into her fur and hope for the dream to end.
~~~
Nuawahn awoke, crying softly, fragmented and incomplete images lingering in his mind. He didn't understand what had happened. Tonight, in the past, in the future... he just didn't understand. He walked out into the cool night air to clear his head, wiping his eyes with a hand. He looked around at the quiet camp, the sleeping capramel, the one person keeping watch, and felt somehow trapped. They wanted him to be what he could not, and he wanted to be what he could not, and he was sick of it. He wondered why all the happy memories had bled away. Was the story so powerful that it dispelled everything good about his family group? Were the memories that were lost so powerful that, as they even just stirred they destroyed everything in their wake?
Either way, he didn't want to be here. He had tried for his mother and sister, and for himself, but he had to get out, or be drowned by the weight of things he didn't even know.
He took charcoal and paper and wrote a note, a brief one, weighting it with a rock outside of his mother's tent.
He quietly picked up his pack, tucking his new Moracker away before waking La'amu. And then, stealthily, he left the camp.
~~~
Every step he took away was painful. He knew how his mother would feel. She would cry and scream. Maybe she would search for him. The note wouldn't help her much, but perhaps his sister would understand. It would have been better... for all of them, he thought... if he hadn't reappeared in their lives at all.
Every step felt like he was leaving something behind, but at the start of every next step, he felt lighter, like the sun rising on a new day. By the time it was morning, the dark thoughts had been left like a trail behind him and for the first time in days Nuawahn felt happy. The bright clear day shone golden in the mists and banished the pain to places unknown.
By midday, his family was left far behind, and he was Nuawahn as he wanted to be, as he should be.
He was happy.
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Posted: Sun Nov 17, 2013 4:15 pm
Nuawahn couldn't stop grinning as the memories of the day flashed through his head. He'd made a new friend! An Alkidike! Well a half alkidike with two mothers, and one of them was his tribe! All three of them were nice, though, and when Tahira had brought him to her home in Emeka he'd been so delighted!
There had been Alkidikes everywhere and they were so pretty! He was going to have lots of fun in Emeka, he knew it!
Her mother's had told him to be careful, and they had fed him yummy food. He didn't know why he needed to be careful, he never did. Everything turned out well eventually, so there was no need to be careful.
And besides. SPRITES! He didn't know what they had to do with careful, but they had been so amazingly cool! They were like little winged people with antennae and a whole bunch of arms. Four! He had counted them!
They'd played with his hair and swarmed all around him like a cloud... He wanted to hang onto that memory forever and ever! Or, better yet, have a sprite of his own to play with.
He giggled softly and snuggled into his bed. Today had brought a new friend and sprites, what would tomorrow bring? He couldn't wait.
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Posted: Sun Jan 19, 2014 5:42 am
Only the Best Intentions: pt 2, 1108 words
"Help..." he said, looking at the Alkidikes that watched him suspiciously, "She needs to... go home..." he was out of breath. Sweat glittered on his brow. He was so thirsty, but hadn't wanted to stop for a drink of water. She needed to go home, wherever home was, and she needed to go there as soon as possible. Stopping would slow him down, and with the ache in his muscles and the growing exhaustion he felt, he wasn't sure he would be able to move again if he stopped.
No, the only choice had been to keep going until he finally reached Emeka. There were dark and confused mutters in the crowd, but an elder finally came forward and bent over to the boy's eye level. Her eyes were wary, but glittered with concern, not suspicion. "What happened, little earthling?” she asked softly.
”I found her on the road... She was hurt an' I tried to patch her up, but I don't think she's doing very well...” he frowned, more puzzled than sad, ”She wanted me to take her home, an' I was going to Emeka and thought that... uh...” a wave of exhaustion hit him and he staggered, ”Maybe... someone would know where to take her... Because...” he clenched all his muscles, trying to get them to shake off the thick and sticky burn of exhaustion, ”I have to get her home!“
The elder put a gentle hand on his shoulder and looked him in the eyes. Then she nodded. ”I'll take her home, child. Go and rest.”
Her obvious authority relaxed him and he slumped and let her take the young warrior off of his back, leaning against a tree.
It had been so easy at first, carrying the alkidike. But moving so fast for so long had worn on him. He had outpaced himself. He closed his eyes as the elder hefted his 'patient' onto her back and began to walk away. At least she would be home.
~~~
The elder returned just after sundown. Nuawahn was staying with a family who knew him, and had recovered enough to give out some of his gifts: the youngest in the famly had liked the wooden toy he had brought for her and their oldest had busied herself with brushing La'amu's fur with the new comb he had found.
They'd fed him dinner and had given him water, and he was feeling much better and certainly less stressed than he had been when he had stumbled into Emeka. He was still worried about his patient, though. He sat by the window in the room he shared with their pet kinfa, wondering if she was okay. He'd cleaned her up, treated her, he had taken her home. He'd done everything right, so surely she would be okay.
He saw the elder return, slowly walking down the village path and he leapt up to meet her, clambering through the entrance and into the road.
"Did she go home? Is she okay? What did she say?" he asked in rapid succession, bounding from foot to foot in anxiety. The elder put one hand on his head to still him.
"Little wind boy. She's... the woman hesitated, ”Home. With her Mother."
"Oh! Thats good! Was her mother happy to see her?" chirped Nuawahn. Mothers usually were happy. Even when they were angry, they were always happy in the end.
The elder looked away, gritting her teeth. "No." she said, as if the word pained her.
Nuawahn was confused. The only reason he could think of for a mother not being happy to see her child was if they were in trouble. And the lady couldn't be in trouble, she had already been in trouble- That was how she had gotten hurt. "Why?" he asked, puzzled.
"No mother wants to see her daughter dead, child." and, hiding her tears, she continued walking right past him, leaving a stunned earthling boy in her wake.
~~~
This was not the first young burden she had had to lay at Aisha's roots and prepare for her funeral barge. Nor did Elder Mashika believe it would be her last.
When she had taken the young woman from the boy, she had known that the girl was already dead. She had died long before the two arrived in Emeka. Of course, it would be a reasonable suspicion would be that the Earthling boy had killed her. Mashika didn't think so. Some of her sisters might believe that the earthlings were untrustworthy, but she was seasoned enough to know that not all were. Besides, he was but a child yet and she did know his character: he had become a common sight in Emeka, acting as playmate for many of the younglings there, whether their parents approved or not. From what she had seen of him, he was harmless. Weak, sometimes annoying, but overall a sweet child. No, despite his differences, it was not his fault that the girl was dead.
She couldn't stop remembering how those strange bright eyes of his had widened uncomprehendingly and how confused he had seemed when she had told him. Her heart had melted at the sight, and she had wanted to comfort him, but he was not of her tribe. She left him in the road, not that she could have done much anyway. Her own daughter had been the first burden she had laid at Aisha's roots, and so she knew how it felt to have the world betray you. For the first time in twenty years she opened a bottle of fruit wine, and drank to forget the hardships of the world.
~~~
Nuawahn couldn't sleep. He didn't know how to feel- everything he understood about the world was wrong now. When you did everything right, things were supposed to work out! The wounded lady had died. He had done everything right, and things had not worked out. She had died. He had failed her.
For the first time in years, he felt homesick. He yearned to go home: for Sauti, for the comfort of family, and most of all for his mother's warm scent and enveloping arms.
That night he cried himself to sleep. Fortunately, Nauwahn was a resilient child: He was all right in the morning, and back to his usual self by the next day. In fact, it would be hard for even him to tell what, if anything, had changed about him.
Every night afterward, though, the memories and feelings of that night came flooding to him on the back of sleep, and he cried. And he knew he would have to go home soon.
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Posted: Sun Jan 19, 2014 2:23 pm
It had been a few days since the nice shifter had rescued him from the horrible pain and heat of his illness, and the young boy was recovering his strength in Yera. Nuawahn tried to remember how he had gotten there, but he could remember nothing but a blank haze and exhausted pain. Being sick was not and had not been fun.
Still, however he got there, and however frustrating it was to not know how, he was still here, in the Tale and Jahuar, and he couldn't wait to start exploring properly. He was still recovering, though, and he was being good and listening to the healer.
Mister Takoda said to rest, so he was trying, but something kept bothering him and Nua didn't know what it was. He was getting better, Amma was fine, but where was everybody else? Who else? He tried to think, but kept coming up empty.
Well, everybody was likely back in Sauti, and he'd go home and tell them all about the Tale and Jahuar and they'd be so impressed. He didn't have to worry.
He snuggled into the sleeping pad as he prepared to take another nap - he had been sick, so he needed lots of naps - and thought about Takoda's magic until he fell asleep. He wanted to be like Mister Takoda. He wanted magic to help people and do wonderous things with.
Now, though, he wanted to sleep. Maybe when he woke up, he could begin his grand and exciting adventure in earnest!
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Posted: Sun Jan 19, 2014 2:40 pm
Begging Improved - (Dancer Class Affinity) 2190 words
Nuawahn had been in awe of Zidel from the moment he had set eyes on it. He had seen wonders in his wanderings: He had walked the mountains of Sauti, had experienced both the great expanse of the Tale and the close quarters of Jahuar's glowing, dripping trees. He had even seen, at a distance across the northern straits, the great mother tree of the Alkidikes.
Nuawahn had never seen a city before.
This was a forest like he had never seen: not of tree and leaf, but of wood, stone, and people. Nuawahn loved people, and he found it delightful to be among the thronging masses.
It did bother him that the people here seemed less happy than the people in the settlements. He supposed that lots of people meant that there were lots of ways to get on each others nerves. Everybody had their annoying quirks, and having a lot of people in one place magnified them. If they had no annoying quirks, then they wouldn't be people, and that just wouldn't be fun.
He hummed happily to himself and skipped down the stone streets, enjoying the kaleidoscope of people in blue and gold. His capramel and clothing garnered him strange looks, and he was nudged a few times in the street by rude people, but Nuawahn's spirits could not be dampened.
Only in Ast had he seen so many people of other races and mixes of more than one. There, and in Emeka and Yera and the other settlements he'd been to, they felt out of place, as if they had awkwardly settled there like a feather on a bowl. Here, everybody felt as though they fit here; Wind, ice, and wind/ice alike, among the snow and stone and tapestries.
He was already riding high on tourist-y glee, so when he found the shops he was in bliss. There were so many things to sell, and so many things to buy! There were things everywhere; beautiful and mundane and silly – anything he could imagine, or that he couldn't! There were things here that he had never seen before: rare artifacts, jewelery, figurines made from ice-like crystal, talismans made from intricately woven rope, collars for pets... It was a virtual treasure box of items.
Nuawahn had very little actual money remaining on him after his travel here - certainly less than he had expected to have - and yet there was so much he wanted to buy here. It was impossible to make a decision: to leave one of the items he wanted behind was to leave a piece of his heart behind with them. He tried to sit and think, pick and choose what he did and didn't need to have, but his success was limited. That was simply not how his brain worked.
He had managed, at least, to whittle it down to a few key items, most of which were accessories, but he barely had enough money for one, even with his haggling skills. Even then he would have no money for food and a warm room for him and Amma, and he needed those. That meant he needed more money.
He sighed, deflated. He couldn't get more money... He was out of things to sell. He pet La'amu's muzzle and looked around him, trying to cheer himself from his disappointment by watching the people go about their business.
For a moment he became transfixed by the ebb and flow of the crowds of the city, watching the constant pulsing of people from the side of the road. Suddenly, he spotted someone peculiar, snapping him out of his people-watching trance. A man, disheveled and ragged, sat next to the roadway, holding a cup. His eyes were hollow as he jangled it at passers by, who sometimes threw a coin into the cup. Nuawahn watched him, puzzled. What was the man doing? He decided to ask.
Nuawahn walked over, his smile big and friendly. “Hi mister!” he asked, “Whatcha doing?”
The man looked up at him with sad, desperate eyes. “Spare a coin, young man, for a old hunter down on his luck?”
“Down on his luck?” Nuawahn chirped, “What do you mean?”
“Got a bad wound, can't go hunting no more. Got nothing I can do, no family to go to, nothing but a cup and what people give me.” said the man, truthfully, “And that be not much, so whatever you have to give would be welcome.”
Nuawahn frowned. He'd never heard of such a thing! He looked in the cup and was startled to see just how little the man had collected. He counted it quickly. Why, that was barely enough for a warm place to eat, and maybe a few pierogi. Or a drink. Not enough for both, he didn't think. It was shocking that a grown up could have so little.
Nuawahn looked at the man, puzzled. He had never met anybody so abandoned that they had nothing to their name but a cup of coins. He had met outcasts on his journeys, but they had always been able to take care of themselves, and often had people they could turn to for help – whether they wanted them around or not. He knew people – quite a few – who would have taken this man in, given him food, clothes, and a place to stay for the night, simply for the sake of it. Nuawahn would do so himself, but he just didn't have the money or a place of his own. “Surely you can do something, mister!” Nuawahn protested reassuringly, not wanting the man to be upset, “Everybody can do something!”
The begger man laughed, a sad sound. “Oh aye, young man, I could do something. But I ain't got a place to live and I got nobody to take me on to do those things...” He shook his cup meaningfully, “All I got is this cup, and I'm surviving on it, so a coin would be most welcome.”
Nuawahn looked at the man, then at the cup, then back at the man again. He could think of nothing he could do. Sadly, he placed a coin in the cup and moved on. The man gave him a grateful nod as he walked away.
Nuawahn didn't notice. He was preoccupied with the predicament. It was so unlike anything he was used to seeing, and so sad. He knew that all his coin would do was, maybe, add one more pierogi to the mans dish at a tavern. “Oh Amma...” he said, rubbing La'amu's ear and leaning against her for comfort, “I wish we could have done something more for the man. He was so sad! And, he looked so cold in that old jacket...”
Suddenly, an idea hit him: He did have a way to help, and he wouldn't have to spend more of his dwindling money! “Oh wait!” he said, feeling for his magic's familiar glow, “I can do something about that, something a little bit more!” he hugged La'amu, as if she had gotten the idea herself. “Lets go!” he said, rushing back to the beggar man.
“Mister! Mister!” said Nuawahn as he dashed energetically towards where the beggar still sat. The man startled, his eyes wary as he reached for an old knife, previously unseen, at his waist. He relaxed, hiding the knife under his ratty cloak once more.
“Hello young man.” he said, not very enthusiastically. He didn't think he was going to get anything more out of the boy.
“I can help you, mister!” said Nuawahn, breathlessly excited, his cheeks flushed.
“Help me?” the man wasn't sure what the boy was talking about. The boy was obviously not wealthy enough to spare him more than that one coin. “What do ye mean?”
“I bet you're cold, right Mister?” said Nuawahn, sitting beside him restlessly, ”I can help you with that! I have magic, and I can make you feel a lot better!”
“Oh, nowt, boy. I don't need any of that.” said the man, shaking his head, almost in amusement. The enthusiasm of this youngster was cheering and maybe a little catching.
“Please? Let me help you?” asked Nuawahn, looking at the man pleadingly. The beggar was breifly startled by the boys facinating eyes. He'd never seen eyes that sparkled like that. They were pretty, but also eerie. The older man shuddered.
“No. I don't have anything to pay you with.” He said, looking away dismissively.
Nuwahn frowned, putting on – unintentionally – his best and most adorable face. “Please?”
The man – reluctantly – looked over at him, and his heart melted. How could it not? It was clear the boy really wanted to try. “Allright.” he said. And why not? It wasn't as though the boy could make him worse with magical tinkering. Nuawahn's face blossomed into a brilliant smile.
“Okay!” he said, bringing his magic to his hands. They glowed with a soft, white-golden light that was soothing to the eyes, and brought sensation back to the mans chilled skin as they were set on it. Nuawahn let the warm light pass from him and through the beggar, and felt the cold that had settled around the man's bones float away. He had mainly used his magic on himself or for lights or illusions - it was interesting to use his magic worked like this on another person. He had known he could do it, but he'd never actually done it before.
It was like having some strange new sense: He could feel the other man's heartbeat, and the way his liver struggled along, and the hard edges of a grudgingly healing wound, and the beginnings of frostbite in the man's stiff fingers. He sent his magic to those places, warming the fingers back to life and burning away some of the badness that had settled in the wound – the most he could figure out to do about it. Nuawahn drew away, sensing he had reached a limit and, suddenly a little dizzy, looked at the man curiously. “How do you feel?” he asked, his cheer slightly dampened by a feeling of fatigue that started in his chest and flowed outward. He was very tired all of a sudden, and it was a little disconcerting.
The man stared at him, his yellow eyes wide. Then he looked down, and Nuawahn's eyes followed. The cup was suddenly far fuller than before. Nuawahn looked up and realized that they were surrounded by people, all watching. Some stayed for a time, some glanced for a moment before passing. One of them clapped.
“Can you do some more tricks, boy?” they asked. Nuawahn looked back at the man, his stunned expression morphing into a grin.
“Mister? I think I have an idea.”
Nuawahn spent the rest of the day and some of the night dancing, twirling, and playing with his magic on the street corner with the old beggar man. La'amu had snuggled up against the old man, not out of affection – of course - but for shared warmth, as she watched her notcalf dazzle the crowds with summoned lights and colors. People, entertained, left money in the cup and walked away happy. By the time Nuawahn stopped playing with the crowds, the old man had had to empty the contents of the cup into a pocket of his cloak – something he had never had to do before – twice. The old beggar was delighted. He had enough, now, for food, drink, a proper bed, and – maybe – to go looking for proper work.
As Nuawahn started to leave with his capramel to find a place of his own to stay, the man stopped him. “Wait.” he said, holding out a handful of the coins, “This is for you.”
Nuawahn looked at it and yawned sleepily “No, no. Keep it.” the man needed it more than he did.
“Boy...” said the beggar, dumping the coins into Nuawahns hands, “Thats your share.” he turned away, “Thank you for what you did.” he said gruffly, his voice choked with held-back tears. He walked away before the prentice could try to give him the money back.
Nuawahn frowned and put the money away. Well, okay then. He supposed this was his now. He went towards the inn, feeling lighter and (exhaustedly) happier with every step. He had money, and maybe he could buy one of the things he wanted. And, he had made someone else happy in exchange. That was something to feel good about.
The Beggar too left with a lightness in his step that he hadn't had since his wife had passed on. He felt renewed and hopeful. He had enough money now to not just make it to the next day, but maybe to another life. He thanked the strange wind boy... spirit... or whatever he was for his magic and cleverness. He had captivated the crowds with his antics, and they had paid for his trouble. The beggar smiled.
He could go on, now.
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Posted: Thu Apr 03, 2014 6:18 am
Terror in Solitude
Meta Ch. 5 Response - 176 words
In all of his life, Nuawahn had never been alone, not truly. At the very least, La'amu had always been there for him, or at least not too far behind, and he had always made friends quickly and easily. Nuawahn was not the sort of by who did well alone, so geared was he to other people's needs, so it was good that he had never known true solitude.
Not until the taste he had had of it on the battlefield. Sure, it wasn't really solitude - it was a battlefield, afterall, full of warriors friend and foe. Some of those warriors even knew and cared about him and he, of course, cared about all of them.
But in that one moment, surrounded by overwhelming chaos and separated from his only recognizable friend and from his constant Capramel companion, Nuawahn had been alone for the first time in his life.
That, as much as and perhaps more than the violence that had exploded around him on the trembling, wrathful ground, had scared him to his core.
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Posted: Thu Apr 03, 2014 6:20 am
Friends and Family
Meta Ch. 5 Response - 409 words
Nuawahn was resting, the fog clearing from his head bit by bit. He wasn't supposed to think too much - not that he could, it was still tiring to make his mind do very much at all. He'd been asked a lot of questions about his memory, and the fact was, that his memory had never been that good. There were still big holes in it from before, when he awoke suddenly in Jahuar tended to by a strange, black-skinned healer. Normally, he didn't mind holes in his memory - those were just places to fill with new memories.
But he did want to make sure he remembered his friends and family. Friends and family were important - the most important of memories. "Hmm..." he said, petting Amma quietly. "You, of course." La'amu huffed, nuzzling him from her resting spot, "Uhm... Mommy, Daddy, Uncle... Suen..." Daddy, Uncle , and Suen were dead, and their memories were faded down to the basics. "Tahi, Kiyelt, Ilyra" well, Ilyra didn't like him, but that didn't meant that she wasn't his friend, "Mella, Sinnia, Rham..." and that sprite he didn't know the name of. did wild sprites have names? Did they need names? The questions stuck in his brain and he left them be - answering his own questions was too much work for now. "Niada, Uhm... the weapon lady..." though they were a long time ago... "Tahira, Uquin ... pretty lady..." who WAS the pretty leaf/shiftery lady who he'd put a barrier up for? He forgot. He barely remembered the fight. Oh well! Also, Uquin was his friend, even if he'd apparently thrown up on him. Oops! He didn't remember... again, oh well.
He hesitated. "Ogbonna." he bit his tongue and fell quiet. Saying that name made thoughts and images come to the surface that unsettled him. Why did he feel so mixed about Oggie and not about anybody else? He felt happy about Oggie, yes, like any other friend. He felt safe with Oggie - Oggie was sturdy and strong. And yet, thinking about Oggie made him feel... uneasily sad, and Nuawahn didn't know why. The answer was hidden in the fog somewhere, and Nuawahn suddenly felt too tired to seek it out. He gave La'amu a final pat on the head before turning over and trying to go back to sleep. The uncertainty followed him into sleep and became dark, shifting dreams that the boy was glad to wake from.
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Posted: Thu Apr 03, 2014 6:21 am
Tantalizing and out of Reach
Meta Ch. 5 Response - 234 words
Nuawahn thought he was close to some great revelation about life. He'd woken up, his heart racing with anticipation, and he'd known he was close. but to what? He settled back down into his cot, trying to think (but not too hard - his brain still felt squishy when he tried to think too much).
What sort of revelation would it be, he wondered. A bad one, or a good one? He hoped it was a good one. He'd had enough dark and scary things for a while. He wanted something fun that he could chat about to Oggie and his other friends when they dropped by to see him. It would cheer them up - which they needed, and it would cheer him up - which he needed.
So. Great revelation about life. His life? Life in general? Some other person's life? He tried to figure it out, but no answer came. He knew he knew what this revelation was on some level, but it just wasn;t coming to him. It dangled there like a tantalizing treat or a shifter's beads from long ago, just out of reach.
Oh well. He smiled, giggling a little weakly, still not up to full strength. He may not find the answer now, but he knew that the revelation or whatever it was, would come to him soon, very soon, and he was eager to know it.
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Posted: Wed Apr 23, 2014 4:37 pm
Sooo, you come here often?
Nuawahn and Kiyelt, 267 wordsKiyelt was true to his promise - gone before Nuawahn had woken up. Nua was a little disappointed, but not too much so. He was just happy to have met the man in the first place!
Such an interesting man! On a quest like that, walking across the contident, meeting everybody. Two of each race... Nua almost envied him. But Nua didn't really feel envy.
It was more like a longing awe, that someone could travel with so much direction. He didn't have a direction himself - he just kept walking, and he liked that. But sometimes he wished he wasn't just meandering, that he had a point or a destination in mind. Usually, though, he didn't.
He hoped he'd see the ice tribe man again, and share food with him again, and just talk to him again, because that had been fun!
Plus, Kiyelt and Amma had gotten along, and that was special, because Amma rarely liked anybody at all! All the more reason to want to meet Kiyelt again and, maybe, hear more stories about giant fish....
Or...
He was going into Zena soon. Maybe he'd have a big fish story of his own! He grinned as he nudged La'amu into wakefulness and started cleaning up his part of the camp.
Oh yes! He would have so many stories of his own to tell! And so would Kiyelt!
He began to think of their future meeting as something definite, something certain, something incredibly fun. "C'mon, Amma!" he said, slinging his pack across his shoulder, a bun in his hand, "Lets go find some more stories!"
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Posted: Tue Apr 29, 2014 10:18 am
Snowmen - 512 words
To Nuawahn a border meant very little. One side of a border rarely was much different than the other, he had learned. It was just a line in sand, stone, or snow. So, instead, he pretended that it wasn't the border at all that he had passed.
He was heading to Zena to explore the tundra, and as he exited the purple sun-kissed corridor of stone, he found himself face to face with the cold land. This he thought, was the real border! he grinned and tightened his coat. ”C'mon Amma! Lets explore!” he said to his plodding Capramel.
She was less than excited about the cold, but had no choice but to follow as he skipped forth into the still snow. A Parak poked its ears out of the snow, investigating the stranger before hopping away across the snow, and Nuawahn gave a yip of delight and ran after it, bounding across the snow awkwardly. La'amu followed suit, grumbling her unhappy grumble.
Nuawahn loved the snow. It was so different from the murky leaf litter of Jahuar. There the ground either squished, bounced, or stuck. Here it only sank, and it was cool, and he could pick it up in his hands and make shapes out of it that stayed together. Mud scuptures drooped in the wet air, and melted in the rain, but, as he formed a snowball in his hand and threw it playfully at the Parak, he thought that a snow sculpture must be able to stay there for a long time..
The Parak dodged his throw and ran a distance away, peeking out warily from its snowdrift as he went over to investigate the crater that his snowball had made. Snow was also smooth and white and perfect! Jahuaran mud was already mussed and stirred, but this snow was so... pristine. It was pretty.
But it was wet, and he started to feel the cold through the leather boots he'd bought in Tinerr, so he waved goodbye to the Parak and made his way North. Eventually, he reached Coeld.
Coeld was cold, and he was able to get more supplies there. He was used to strange places with people who weren't like him – they had become almost normal for him. So the border town was not at all strange or eerie to him – it was exciting! The people couldn't figure out what the young wind prentice found so amazing about crates of goods, or about shipping things North and South, but Nuawahn found it wonderful. When things went places other than where they had come from, it was like they were part of the heartbeat of a really big person. He really liked that idea.
He didn't stay there long – only replenishing his supplies a bit and getting directions and staying just long enough to play with the children in the snow before leaving. By the time he did leave, there was a whole village of little snowmen and women, with little iceball crystals and twig arms and coal mouths. And Nuawahn was happy.
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