Welcome to Gaia! ::

Steady is the usual air of the territory he calls home. A mixture of creatures fill the area with living sound: birdsong, eagle squawks, squirrel chitters, mongoose chatter, and more. He has yet to identify them all. The slosh of water, the rush of the river, and the wind connect them together. Except today there is a disturbance.

The eagles are screeching in alarm; one he remembers well, for it was the same screech that sounded as he earned his name. It can only mean one thing. Kin approach. One or many, he does not know. Any kin other than him alarm the eagles. He has befriended them, earned their trust, and he follows the siren call to confront the intruder. There will be little, if any, warning if it threatens his eagles. A firm nod of his head and he sets off.

It does not take him long to arrive at the loudest screech. This nest is in a tall safe tree. No kin will be snatching eggs from it. But there are nests lower the ground, nestled into crevices like the mountainsides that is his mother's homeland, that are at risk. He takes a deep breath.

"You are trespassing. Show yourself," he demands. He hopes they will. The eagles have few qualms, doubtful they have any, about attacking when threatened. And now, they feel a threat. Intention or not.

He was not expecting a doe. Not a mere slip of a thing -- by looks, she would barely topple a sleek acha -- with miles of hair to tangle and snag and... No, he was not expecting a doe. He had thought it would be a buck. The rigid stance and harsh glower of his eyes lessened. Whatever the chance that this doe would be a threat is, it is a small one. Tiny, like her.

"You..." his voice is low and deep, trailing off as he regards her. "Forgive me if I startled you. The eagles here have many enemies. One cannot be too cautious, for their sake," he amended after a moment of thought. It is the most he has said in a very long time and he feels out of his element. Not that he shows it.

Uncomfortably close is a mild way to put it to his instincts. However his heritage -- totoma are not the type to shy or back away -- and blood refuse to allow it. Still he finds himself startled by the open gaze examining him. And yet the quiet, the lack of words, is comforting. A strange combination.

He clears his throat, thinks to ask her if she has received a name and then stops. Even with two kimeti siblings he often forgets that they dreams their names. It will always be strange to him. "What is your name?" he asks instead.

The space is a relief, fresh air invading his nostrils. With the unfamiliarity of other kin come a hint of claustrophobia, he thinks. An oppressive feeling he never felt among family but that is a title he cannot grant this doe. He lets out a calming breath and watches her movements carefully with red eyes.

The soundless opening of her mouth, the shake of her head, could be interpreted in many ways. Perhaps she is mute, or voiceless. The fur below his bone planted head wrinkles ever so slightly. He decides to put word to each action and hope it is that simple. "Speak Not?"

The giddiness was a stark contrast to the shy, reserved quality that had so far been present. And though he found the kiss unnecessary he would have been hard pressed to admit it didn't make a warmth flare into his cheeks and chest. A smile quirked at his mouth, as his lips opened to speak. However her attention to the trees stopped his voice.

"They believe in me to deal with intruders," he explained of the quiet. And then, "Would you like to learn of them?"

He turned, then, gestured with his head that she should follow. "This is not their original habitat," he began when she was beside him, "they hail from the homeland of my mother." His eyes glanced upward as a whistling screech drifted down into his ears. "A mother returning to take over the task of keeping the eggs warm; the pair of them take turns in caring for their young," he explained. He thought of his own friends, then, and thought perhaps if something crossed his path he would take them a snack. He wouldn't let Speak Not close to them but he might let her see them.

There was much about eagles to share; in his time he had learned and observed more than he thought other kin would ever ask. He did not want to inundate her with his knowledge -- the eagles were sacred to him and their secrets were his to keep -- nor did he wish to keep her voiceless should she ever wish to pass on his words.

After a brief walk, he stopped and nudged her cheek with his nose, ever so gently, "Look." Ahead was a stream and eagles drove, reaching into the frothing waves to snatch fish. "They are very skilled hunters." It was easy to tell how much pride he had in these creatures.

His eyes had shifted to take her in and found her swaying in a rhythm all her own. It reminded him of owlcats, hungry for a meal, touching the water's surface with their paw where the current ran weak. Over and over; shift and shift. In his head, everything ran to the beat of an eagle's wings.

"Do you fish?" he questioned, letting his neck twist so that he could see her. There were other game options, of course, if she would dine to let him hunt. It was not necessary, the eagles truly did well enough on their own. It was simply one way of showing them that he was an ally.