The sun was hot on the girl's back as she made her way through the forest. She could have used the weaving, well-worn path that connected towns and cities throughout Ocora, but she preferred the solace of the woods. It did take much longer; what was usually a two-day trip took four through the denseness of the trees. However, it was quiet, she ran into nobody, just herself, her thoughts, and the teeming life of the woods. Another advantage provided by the forest was fresh berries and herbs that supplemented her meager supplies and brought variety to her diet.
It was when she sat down in the evening, boiling some water for a mouth-watering stew in a well crafted collapsible pot, that her peace was interrupted. A pained cry from some small woodland creatures broke the silence of the evening.
She jumped to her feet, alert and listening for any noise. After the initial flurry of birds and creatures fleeing settled, the only sound left was the crying. Deciding she wasn't in any immediate danger, she sat back down, ready to ignore the howling and enjoy her meal. However, she found it impossible to ignore, and the first bite of stew left a sour taste in her mouth.
The girl got to her feet again and listened to where the crying was coming from. It sounded close. She walked towards the whining.
The noise got louder and louder until she entered a clearing and saw it. There was blood everywhere. It was spattered on the trees and seeping into the soil. Tufts of fur and feathers matted together in the mess.
The coppery smell of blood was everywhere as she noticed a ball of fur and feathers at the edge of the treeline. That's where the cries were coming from.
She silently crept over to the fur, watching the centre rise and fall as it whimpered. "So, you're still breathing little guy," she whispered softly to the torn bundle of fur. "What happened, little one?" The girl kept up this constant, mindless chatter trying to keep the creature calm as she studied it.
It was a squawl, a small furry brown creature, that would only reach the girl's knees. A bushy tail came almost to its head and curled towards itself at the end. Its hind legs were not furry but were thin and scaley with long talons at the end of four bird-like toes. Claws also tipped its hand-like front paws, but we're much smaller. To either side of its back, just under the shoulders were feathered wings of a darker brown. A strange mix of cute woodland creature and bird, its face had a sharp curving beak but soft, round ears that were highly mobile. Black beady eyes flitted back and forth in pain and confusion.
"Shh, it's okay now," she hushed the creature as she scooped into her arms. "You'll feel better in no time!"
With the furry bundle in her arms and one last look over the glade, the girl ran as quickly as she could without jostling the injured animal. It didn't take her long to get back to her camp, the fire still burning strong. Gently setting the animal down, she got to work. While she may not have been a prosperous person, she always made sure she had a fully stocked bag of herbs. When travelling on one's own, she had to be ready for injury or sickness.
The girl did a quick assessment of the squawl, making mental notes, "broken wing. Lacerations down forelimbs and deep gauges across the nose. Looks like the little guy tried to defend himself against whatever hurt it."
Assessment finished, she pulled out another pot, her stew dinner removed from the fire and forgotten. Filling the pot with water, she set it to boil, then rummaged through her bag. In finding what she was looking for, she returned to the fire. She had grabbed her bag of herbs and proceeded to toss an assortment into the water, pausing to stir every once in a while.
That finished, she went out into the trees around her campsite, looking for little pieces of wood she could use for a splint. It didn't take her long to find some nor to set the wing. By the time that task was done, the herb mixture she had made was boiling.
Removing the pot from the fire, she ladled some into a cup, letting it cool before moving to the animal. It was no longer crying, but it's breaking was still laboured. She brought the cup close to the creature's beak, then, picking it up again and gently opening its mouth, she carefully poured some liquid down its throat. She waited for the herbs to put the creature to a restful sleep. Once it had set in, she grabbed a small bone needle and thread sewing the edges of the wounds shut.
With that finished and its wounds tended to, all that was left to do was to wait and hope she did enough.
Now that the immediate concern was over, she sat back and returned to her cold stew. "What happened to you, little buddy?" Sure of the creature's survival, she realized that whatever attacked it may still be out there. From the large and deep gashes, it didn't look like the squawl's typical predictor. However, she did not think they were in immediate danger, as the forest noises had returned. She was also confident that whatever it was, it wouldn't be big enough to be a threat to her. Nonetheless, her relaxed supper was ruined, her senses on high alert.
The girl sat with her back against a tree staring into the fire and stroked the squawl's head, tutting softly to it. Night was fast approaching, and she was still concerned that something was out there. Worried as she was, she knew she needed sleep. She wrapped herself and the furry creature in her cloak and rested her eyes leaning on a tree. There she slept lightly, undisturbed until dawn returned.
***
Light cut through the forest canopy, disturbing the girl awake. She yawned, stretched, then made a move to get up. In that brief moment of awakening, she had forgotten about the squawl that should have been on her lap.
Its warm body was still curled in a ball, the long wings covering its entire body. The girl smiled to see the gentle rise and fall of its chest. She reached a hand out to stroke its small head, the only part of it sticking out from its wings.
Before she made contact, however, its eyes opened, wide and bird-like. She froze, the creature blinked once then noticed the girl. For a brief moment, they made eye contact. In a sudden movement, the squawl bite the girl's outstretched hand then scampered into the trees.
She was stunned, not sure what to make of the situation as she watched blood well up from the deep puncture wound.
"Well," she shook herself, thinking. "Guess I shouldn't be surprised. It is a wild animal, after all." Sticking the injured finger in her mouth to stop the stinging, she looked around at her meager camp. The small fire had burnt itself out, her bag and collapsible pots sat next to it. With a groan, she realized she never rinsed out the stew pot, and it would need more care before packing it up. Luckily there was a stream nearby, and although it took time from her travelling, she went and scrubbed at the congealed remains.
As she made her way back to her camp, she heard the noise of small claws against wood mixed with mewls of pain. Silently, she edged close to the clearing, trying not to alert the creature. Peering around a tree at the edge, she watched as the squawl tried to scramble up a tree without its wings for balance. Each time it stretched the injured wing, it sounded pained and dropped back to the ground.
She stepped out of the trees, quietly walking towards the creature. Unsure of how the animal would react to her presence, she softly called to it, "hey little guy, you're going to hurt yourself again if you continue to do that."
The scrambling stopped, the squawl looking over its furry shoulder towards the girl. It sniffed the air, tilted its head, then chittered, "who are you? Can't tell me what to do!"
The squawl continued to try to get up the tree as the girl's eyes widened, "you can talk!"
This time the squawl froze. It turned to face the girl, sitting on its haunches, "what?"
"See! You did it again! I did hear you before," the girl shouted, stumbling backwards until she tripped on a root, landing hard on her butt.
"You understand me," the animal asked, curiously. It skittered towards the fallen girl, climbing her leg to sit on her knee.
She nodded, eyes wide, not believing what she was experiencing. Its bright eyes stared into hers, its head tilting back and forth just as a common dog's might. As the squawl sat, the girl brought a hand to her head, thinking she was going crazy.
"How can I be talking to an animal? All I did was nurse it back to health, and now I'm talking to it," she muttered.
"So it was you," the squawl chattered in excitement! "Thank you for saving life! See I bit you, now we talk. We have bond. Bond can't be broken now! That's why I talk to you. I am Cetus, a squawl." Completely baffled by the situation, eyes still wide, the girl just nodded. The squawl's head continued to tilt back and forth, "you are?"
"I'm Anaphora of Miral," she replied slowly.
"Ah, good, good. Well, I'll be off. Bye!"
With that, the squawl ran off, trying once again to climb a tree.
"Hey, no! Wait a minute there, Cetus," Anaphora called out, scrambling to her feet. "You said we had a bond, and I saved your life. The least you could do is explain more. I don't quite understand!"
Cetus stopped trying to climb the tree, pondering the question, "fine, fine. I'll join you."
He ran from the tree, quicker than the eye could follow, then proceeded to scale Anaphoras leg. In mere seconds the animal was perched on her shoulder, claws digging into flesh for balance.
"Wait a minute. What do you think you're doing," Anaphora questioned.
"I'll join you. You save life. I now help you in travels," the squawl seemed to be trying to smile, it's eyes alight and beak agape.
"Okay, just until you are healed, after that, you are free to go. I don't like company too much, but I want to know you are going to be alright. Oh, I was wondering, what attacked you? I couldn't tell from your wounds." She examined its wing and sutures, making sure everything was still holding.
"Don't know. Smelt something wrong. Everything went black. Then lots of pain. Never saw, but big claws." Anaphora heard Cetus's voice in her head, a high pitch almost tittering noise. "I was so scared. Lucky you close. Long gone now. Can't smell anymore."
As she packed up the rest of her camp, Cetus sat quietly on her shoulder, sharp claws almost cutting into her skin. Strange as it was to have this talking critter join her, she enjoyed its presence, the claws not even bothering her. Less lonely, she thought. "Hey, Cetus?"
He did not reply, but a squeak sounded in her head, and she took it as the equivalent to hmm? "Does this happen often? This… Bond, as you called it?"
"Not with humans! We good at hiding. Most don't see us. Most wouldn't help. Elves more often. Can only bond to one other. Usually more careful about biting. Glad I wasn't."
Anaphora smiled. With camp broke, she and her new companion hit the road. For the past three years, she had grown accustomed to solitude and shadows. As she walked towards the next town, Cetus perched on her shoulder, chattering away, a part of her thought the company was pleasant, thankful to have met this squawl.
***
The next days of travel passed by uneventfully. However, Anaphora had kept a watchful eye out for whatever had attacked Cetus on the first night. Whatever it was, it didn't show its face again.
It was nearing nightfall of the fourth day since she left the no-name town as her destination came into sight. It was a sleepy little village. Just a handful of rough, but solidly built houses circled a lush green clearing. Trees encroached on the homes giving the area an isolated feel. Only one house had two lopsided stories, the overhang was held up by cut logs. Tree branches laid heavily on the roof. Sighing heavily, Anaphora whispered to Cetus, "well, there goes our chances of a market or easy targets."
"Stealing? I can help! Little hands!" He displayed his dexterous hands and put them on Anaphora's cheek, "plus, soft!"
A small smile crept to her lips, it felt nice, and she wondered how long it had been since she smiled like that. "Thanks, Cetus, but the problem is that it's too small of a place, which means not many travellers and these folks need everything they have. It is a different way of life in places like this. They rely more on goods like food and services to pay each other instead of gold so unless there is another traveller it is better not to steal. It's a good thing I've still got some silvers and coppers from the last town. We'll just stay here one night then be off."
With those words, the pair set off again. They still had another hour before they reached the hamlet. As they walked, run-down farmhouses were scattered about, struggling to keep the forest from encroaching onto their farmland. Anaphora passed through several crop fields, hopping fences that were in much-needed repair. She had passed through this village once before, but since then, the quality of life had plummeted. The hamlet, though small, had been prosperous. Now, from the state of the farms, it looked like they were barely surviving. Anaphora picked up the pace as night was falling fast.
Soon, she reached the main street of the village. It didn't take long until she was at the village's inn. Pushing her way through the door, she went straight to the bar.
A gaunt, but tall bearded man stood, scrubbing a mug with a rag, "what can I do ya for, girl?"
"A room, meal, and bath. I'd like the meal right away. I'll only be staying a night," Anaphora replied, flipping a silver onto the counter before turning her back and sitting at a table.
"Hey, miss," the barkeep called. "This is too much for what you asked. I'll bring you your change with the meal."
Anaphora waved him away, saying she didn't need the change. At that remark, Cetus chittered curiously at her. She ignored him, waiting for her meal as she watched some tired villagers enter the tavern and sit. By the time her stew had arrived, the place was filled, yet hushed. That's when she heard a familiar voice.
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