The deep breath Tarenn had taken rushed out painfully on impact as she crashed into the rocky outcropping overlooking the peak. A firm cushion of feathers on Zayzann’s arms relentlessly wrapped around her as they both rolled along the craggy ground. Zayzann had managed to grasp onto Tarenn in a last-ditch effort to prevent her from leaping to an almost certain death, causing them both to collect a wealth of welts and scuffs for his trouble. He released his stranglehold on her fragile body to allow Tarenn to breathe properly and his heart sank once Zayzann got a better look at her.
Tarenn’s trembling body shook with each exhausted sob, and she tucked her body into a fetal position to protect herself from the scolding she was sure to receive. Trying to fly without a full set of feathers was foolish, stupid even, yet Zayzann scrunched his eyes and nose, drew up his ridge of cranial feathers, and couldn’t bring himself to admonish Tarenn for her folly.
“You should have let me try.” Tarenn gasped out between tearful cries. “If I can’t even fly this time around, I’ll be cast out of the village. I won’t survive on my own, you know that.”
Utility was highly prized among Paxoram. If a tribe member couldn’t pull their own weight, there was no point in investing time, energy, or resources in propping up an inferior peer. Tarenn knew all too well that every Paxoram in the village could fly, yet she’d drawn scornful looks and derisive laughter from her fellow fledges for two seasons now for failing to do just that. She had no choice but to succeed in tomorrow’s trials, whatever the cost. Either she’d triumph by taking flight by day’s end, or she’d perish in the attempt.
“Tarenn, look at me.” Zayzann propped himself up on one arm and gently nudged Tarenn’s shoulder to get her to uncoil from her protective posture. The calming timbre of his voice lulled Tarenn enough to unclench her strained muscles and tilt her head in his direction. “All is not lost. You still have time…”
Though his words were comforting, Tarenn didn’t put much stock in them. Instinct told her that even her treasured friend would eventually turn his back on her, abandoning the damaged youth to a tragic end. There wasn’t anything deliberately vicious about it. These were the facts of life on Zhalterra. If she was useless, she was worthless; it was as simple as that.
Zayzann was two seasons older than Tarenn, and perhaps that forced him to assume responsibility for her as an older neighbor. Regardless of what others might have called their relationship, Zayzann pitied the poor young Paxoram for her misfortunes, and stuck around the damaged fledge far longer than he should have. He tried to put a name to this feeling he had for Tarenn but failed to find an adequate description for it. Tarenn had always trailed after Zayzann like a faithful shadow, never drifting far from him since they got their first proper feathers as children.
Was it simply out of pity that he’d stayed friends with her for so long? Tarenn might have made a handsome watch-mate in the future, if not for her injury, and Zayzann had once entertained ideas of such an arrangement. They both had similar goals, interests, and backgrounds, so it was a terrible shame that she was unsuitable to bond with long-term. Dwelling on facts he could not change drew a long, pained sigh from Zayzann, and he winced before helping Tarenn to her feet.
“I’m sorry, Zay.” Tarenn whimpered weakly. “You got hurt again because of me.”
It’d been so long, he’d almost forgotten. Both Paxoram had been the targets of bullying for several years; Tarenn for her injury and Zayzann for both defending Tarenn and for his short stature among the other males. He still had some catching up to do, but last season’s growth spurt had given Zayzann a sporting chance to match the other fledges from his season’s clutch. Even if he failed to garner a top position among the others, at least he could try again next season for a higher rank. Tarenn wasn’t so fortunate.
“It’s all right.” Zayzann brushed dirt away from Tarenn’s injured shoulder with a reassuring hand. “You are my friend, and well worth the effort.”
“But what about your reserves?” Tarenn asked. “You must have depleted them to catch me. Do you have time to—”
“I’ll have to reach the caves to restore my energy, yes. But I would have had to anyway before tomorrow, so don’t blame yourself.” Zayzann eyed the serrated opening of a distant crystal cave and frowned. “It’ll probably take me all day, but I’ll be sure to bring one back for you, too.”
“You needn’t bother.” Tarenn insisted. She’d never been able to fly on her own, and so had not had the chance to use any of the energy stored in her tiny body for powered flight. Aside from the occasional cleaning, Tarenn rarely touched the dorsal vents by her shoulder blades, and she didn’t know if they could open.
“I shall fetch you one, regardless. Please, you have to promise me…” Zayzann pressed his long fingers into her delicate wrist. His eyes locked onto hers as nictating membranes cleared tears and grit from her sapphire stare. “Promise me you won’t try to fly again until tomorrow.”
A single nod was all Tarenn could manage to convince Zayzann to leave her on the peak. He looked back briefly to Tarenn before leaping off the crag and gliding effortlessly over the valley’s thermal vents. Tarenn watched longingly at her precious friend as he weaved naturally back and forth to catch updrafts while meandering towards the cave. It was deeply painful to see him fly so easily and Tarenn grimaced at the unfairness of it all as she stood at the edge of the rocky outcropping.
Tarenn ran a gentle hand over the bare wing edge where her feathers should have been. It was shameful and ugly, yet she couldn’t reproach herself for trying to survive the crystal beast attack. Her desperate cries and fearless strikes had bought the tribe time to move their nestlings back then, and she took great pride in doing so.
She was no quitter, and wanted nothing more than to live, but was unable to think of a scenario that would allow her to stay in the village without passing the Trials. If only she’d been able to save more of her beautiful, gold-tipped feathers…
That’s it! Tarenn’s eyes widened at the epiphany. If I cannot grow my own, then the only other possibility is to replace them…
Tarenn cast a glance at the formidable, vertiginous rock faces of a nearby mesa. If memory served, the flattened top glittered with glassy black rattlegrass, which often sent its reverberating music through the valley during the windy season. She bit her lower lip as she contemplated how long it would take to reach the summit. It was a daunting task, but not impossible if she left straight away. There was much to do, and such precious little time to do it.
Far away in the distance, Zayzann lingered in the humid crystal cave, unaware that Tarenn had embarked on a desperate undertaking in his absence. He delved deeper into the twisting turns of the cave until he found a cache of shimmering blue stones tucked away in a weathered recess. Once he’d ensured that he was alone, Zayzann set to work rasping at the salty-tasting stones with a long, eager tongue. The process was agonizingly slow, but Zayzann could feel the energy stores within him grow as he continued. The sun was receding into the distance by the time he emerged from the cave.
Zayzann ambled casually through the village at nightfall to seek out Tarenn’s modest hut while avoiding the appraising glimpses of his fellow adolescents. He tried not to let their sneers bother him as he approached Tarenn’s door flap to request admittance.
“Tarenn, are you in?” Zayzann beaconed and opened his clenched hand to admire the crystal he’d salvaged for her. “I know it’s late, but I have—”
“Go away, please.” Tarenn snapped back and hastily attempted to conceal the contraption she was working on under her nesting cloth. She’d only just returned from her exhausting climb and hadn’t had time to hide her spoils. Tarenn could sense from his distressed throat rumblings that Zayzann was moments away from barging into her hut when she cobbled together an excuse to discourage his entry. “I need to nest!”
“What?” Zayzann drew his ears back and furrowed his brows at the admission. “Right now?”
“Y-yes. I don’t want to risk it affecting you, so please, if you could leave me be.” Tarenn lied.
Zayzann shuddered at her candor but didn’t press the issue. He was still ignorant about the biology of female Paxoram and remembered the teachings of an older male that warned never to bother a nesting female. This damaged sage he’d learned from had a nasty pair of claw marks across his shoulder, which he pointed to as a poignant warning to anyone seeking to test that assumption at their own risk. Not wanting scars of his own, Zayzann scooched the shiny stone through her doorway flap and backed away.
“I hope you feel better soon.” Zayzann fought to find comforting words to reassure her. “You’re going to be fine… I’ll see you at the Trials tomorrow, right?”
Tarenn hesitated before responding. “Of course. Good night, Zay.”
“Good night.”
Blood-red rays of creeping sun scoured the valley with their light as the older male Paxoram assembled for their portion of the Trials the next morning. Zayzann wiped sleep from his weary eyes and readied himself for the intense sparring ahead. He’d had a rough night, filled with foreboding dreams and nonsensical, alien worlds that kept him from getting a full night’s rest. For as little sleep as he got, Tarenn had even less, having spent long hours perfecting her device in secret. She appeared deep asleep when Zayzann had tried to summon her for the early combat, and he found himself looking for her with a growing sense of unease between matches as the morning wore on.
“Looking for your watch-mate?” Dovaal mocked as he took position to claim Zayzann as his next sparring partner.
Without hesitation, Zayzann lunged at the burly brown Paxoram and tackled him to the ground. Seed puffs from aromatic grasses jittered into the air as Zayzann landed on top of Dovaal with a satisfying thud. The pair traded relentless swipes and blows as onlookers cheered them both. With everyone distracted by the sparring matches, Tarenn crept from her hut and stalked hastily towards the gorge peak far above.
Once she was certain that no one had followed her, Tarenn steeled herself for the frightful task ahead. She inched close to the edge of the outcropping and stepped backwards, counting the paces as she gauged how many steps a running start would buy her. The muscles in her wings ached from anxiety and prolonged tension, and her dorsal vent flaps itched with an irritating sensation she’d never known before. Tarenn clenched what remained of the glittering shard of cave stone in her hand before preparing to jump.
Down in the valley below, a wounded Dovaal caught a glimpse of Tarenn’s ivory form with his sharp, brassy eyes. His confused expression stalled Zayzann’s assault, forcing him to look up at his friend as horror set in on his battered face. Without thinking, Zayzann thrust Dovaal backwards and into a thistle briar, abandoning his match to take flight and save his friend.
No, Tarenn, please…
But it was no use. He was simply too far below her to save Tarenn when she fell. Zayzann’s breath caught in his tightened throat as Tarenn plummeted towards him, and he didn’t have the means to call out to her at all. No better than a nestling in that moment, Zayzann’s eyes glazed with a rush of tears as he braced for the worst.
And yet…
The plush, ivory wings that were clamped shut against Tarenn’s narrow body flung open with broad strokes. Each flap of feathers cast glittering waves of golden light as she opened her dorsal vents to ascend to the skies above. Mingled among her natural feathers was a curious patch of translucent black plumes that cast iridescent beams among the gilded rays.
She’d done it. Tarenn took to the skies under her own power, and here stood Zayzann, staring at a portrait of the young Paxoram mid-flight on that harsh, windy morning. It was as if the painting had etched that exact moment in time forever, searing it into Zayzann’s mind. She was so close, so unbelievably close in the frame of the nearly finished canvas that Zayzann realized that he was seeing Tarenn through his own eyes.
By some miracle, Iris Alcazar had captured that moment of transcendence with such brilliance that Zayzann failed to notice anything around him. He was still staring at the piece long after Maintenance had left from their work, and darkness descended in the apartment.
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