Five

  Confused But Happy To Be Here

  When my consciousness eventually returned, I felt oddly safe, even though strong, unfamiliar arms were holding me.

  Whoever it was, they were supporting me very gently with one arm under my wings and shoulders and the other over top of me, their hand at my side. My legs were folded and resting on something soft spread on the ground. I couldn’t move at all, my skin achy and tight like I was trapped in it. There were no tranquilizers to blame this time. This was purely my own body’s way of telling me “you’ve overdone it and you need to STAAAHP!”. I was too exhausted to protest.

  But I wanna look around … and I’m still thirsty … and hungry. I started trying to peel up my heavy eyelids at least just a crack.

  At last, they lifted enough for a thin sliver of light to hit my eyes. Through still murky vision, I slowly processed that I was looking up. The trees looked like fuzzy greyish green blobs against the darkening lavender sky. Then something moved to my right, and it almost hurt to slide my eyes in that direction. I could make out the barest details of a man’s face as he was crouched down looking at me. For a second, I was overwhelmed with joy, thinking it was my father, but this man’s hair was dark, and his beard was different. He seemed to be talking in a hushed tone to someone on the opposite side of me, to my left. I panned my gaze that way and saw another man. My slight movement must have caught his eye because he then looked down at me and realized I was semi-awake.

  “… ooroh …,” I barely managed to breath out the word. (… water …)

  I knew they couldn’t understand me, but I guessed the general meaning came across because the second man quickly reached off to the side and grabbed a bottle. He held it up to my mouth and I took as many sips as I could before I ran out of breath. The uncomfortable gnawing in my stomach eased and brain fog lifted a bit, my sight clearing along with it. I blinked a few times to further regain my senses, noticing that there were now more than two men with me. Another two were standing over the one with the water bottle, all four in total looking somewhat similar –middle-aged with shades of dark brown hair that was trimmed down the sides of their faces into various degrees of beards. They wore earthy, green, or reddish clothes and hats with brims in the front, their feet clad in tawney or olive boots smeared with dirt.

  Who are these wingless now? More different ones? Why are they out in the forest? Were they looking for me? I puzzled.

  I attempted to sit up a little, but stopped when every muscle in my body very loudly relayed how sore it was. The man holding me spoke gently and motioned for me to stay lying down as he shifted me from his lap. He took off his jacket and rolled it up, placing it under my head while another of the men came up with a smaller bundle of fabric that he nestled against my chest and moved my arms to hold there. Whatever was inside it was freezing cold and the second I held it I realized how burning hot I still was. I curled up around the icy cloth ball as much as my screamingly sore limbs would allow, watching my four new wingless rescuers tend to the area.

  The clearing we were in was different than the one I’d passed out in. It was smaller and surrounded by more foliage, giving it a more sheltered feel. Around the edges were four tents, looking only big enough for a single person, and in the middle was a shallow pit scattered with blackened and crumbling pieces of wood. The first man I’d seen stepped into my field of view again and knelt by me, holding up the water bottle and saying something. It wasn’t hard to guess that he was asking if I was still thirsty. I nodded and he helped me take another drink. He kept talking to me and it seemed by the tone of his voice that he was trying to ask me questions, but the language barrier was very securely in place.

  “I’m sorry, I just can’t understand you,” I murmured as I lolled my head. (Sa’a ikkiteti, Sa hale yhanda’ta evurikina sai.)

  My fever had gone down significantly and I felt myself starting to shiver, taking note of the much darker sky. The other wingless had been putting more pieces of wood on the blackened pile and now one was pouring something on it. Another was making something flash in his hand and when he brought it close to the pile, the wood suddenly was covered in flickering, yellowish-white light. A wonderful warmth was radiating from it, pushing back the chill air and helping normalize my temperature again.

  My wingless companion sat me up against his side, smiling at me, apparently amused at my fascination with this phenomenon I’d never seen before. Was this wood eating light a common thing in this world? I noticed the other men sitting down around it too, opening bags and unwrapping things covered in thin plastic. One handed a smallish rectangular thing to the man beside me. He took it and peeled away the crinkly, metallic covering, revealing a brown bar appearing to be made of several things mashed up and pressed together. Bending it in half, my new caretaker broke off a piece of the bar and held it out to me.

  Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  What’s this? Food? Is it safe for me to eat? I hesitantly accepted the brown chunk.

  The man took a bite of the other half and looked at me, nodding that it was good. I almost wanted to hesitate a little longer, but just then my stomach pinched so hard it felt like it was trying to eat my other organs. I raised the food stuff to my mouth and nibbled off a corner. It was soft and chewy with some crunchy bits, mainly tasting sweet but also rich with other flavors I couldn’t place. It was the first actual solid food I’d ever eaten and in that exact moment it was the most delicious thing in the entire world.

  “Ufudesh!” I squeaked in delight. (Yummy!)

  My wingless friend laughed and said something to the others who chuckled too as I shamelessly stuffed my face. I licked my fingers clean then grabbed for the other half of the bar that the man was still holding. He leaned back in surprise before grinning and laughing again, letting me have the other piece. I was so hungry there wasn’t a thought in my mind about whether or not it was proper or improper to take someone else’s food. I was just thrilled I’d met someone with food who was willing to give it to me!

  Ufudesh … ufudesh … ufudesh!

  Yummy … yummy … yummy!

  When I’d scarfed down every last bit of the sweet, chewy substance, my caretaker reached into a bag and pulled out a piece of something that almost looked like tree bark. My mouth flooded with drool at the savory scent wafting off of it. As soon as it was offered to me I snatched it, finding I had to use my teeth a bit more to get through the tougher material, but the salty, musky flavor was worth it. With the sating of my hunger, my rational mind started working properly again, and I began to think about all the strangeness that had been happening to me. It seemed like the flow of events was leading me somewhere. Like an invisible force was guiding the actions of the people around me. Even now, it seemed there was a fifth presence among the wingless men sitting there with me, silently observing, waiting. Had it always been with me? There had been that odd sound that I’d thought was a voice telling me to wake up when I’d been inside my bio-pod. Maybe this thing following me was trying to help me. The place it had me now wasn’t too bad. The fact that the people of this world were wingless was weird, but a lot of them seemed good and I liked their company. It was nice to not be alone.

  Though … I do wish Agoka’ta’jai and Ma’hy’nami were here. I sighed, looking up at the deep violet sky.

  One of the men then stood and stretched with a yawn, saying something to the others and twiddling his fingers at me. I shyly waved back, watching as he went into one of the tents, zipping the flap closed behind him. He rustled around inside for a little bit before quieting down. A few minutes later, the second man did the same. Then the third got up.

  They must be going to sleep. I reasoned. Is it weird that I don’t feel tired at all now?

  My caretaker then began to get up as well, holding his hand out to me. I took it and he helped me stand, though my legs felt a little stiff and weak. He gently walked me over to what I assumed was his tent and motioned for me to go in and rest. While I wasn’t tired, the thought of lying down for a little longer didn’t seem like a bad idea given how shaky I still felt. I looked at the inside of the tent, then down at my feet, which were covered in dried mud and bits of moss. My face suddenly went hot in embarrassment. I didn’t want to get my kind wingless friend’s tent all dirty.

  The man looked at me and seemed to understand, tipping his head with a laugh and lightly tousling my hair. He began making motions again and I watched intently until I understood he wanted me to sit in the tent with my legs over the edge. I lowered myself down into the little covered space, pushing my feathers back so I wouldn’t sit on them. My companion reached over to a bag beside me and grabbed a package from which he pulled out a thin, damp cloth and began cleaning my feet. When he was done, he put the package back and from the same bag fished out a ball of brown fabric. He unfolded it into a pair of vaguely foot shaped sleeves that he then pulled over my feet and legs a little more than halfway to my knees. They were warm and cozy and I giggled at how stumpy they made my feet look. The man smiled and I pulled my legs into the tent, maneuvering to stretch out comfortably on my belly.

  I had to move my wings to do so and winced as a deep ache rippled through my shoulders. I reached back and let out a soft hiss of pain when I pressed my fingers near my wing joints, my skin tender to the touch. My caretaker leaned in and I let him hold open one of the seams in the back of my dress, feeling his fingertips carefully lifting the feathers on my back. Even that hurt a bit.

  I don’t think I could even lift my wings all the way right now. How long will it be before I can try to fly again? I bit my lip as my friend lightly smoothed my feathers and dress back down.

  He got up and walked a few steps away to a blue box with a white lid, opening it and reaching in. When he came back, he was holding a flattish, rectangular, white plastic package that seemed damp. He took a piece of clothing from his bag and wrapped the package in it before placing it on my shoulders. I all but melted into the ground as the same soothing cold as the previous cloth ball now poured into my aching muscles, my wings shivering in delight. The man said something in a questioning tone and I assumed he was asking if I felt better.

  “Yeucso,” I sighed as I nodded. (Better.)

  He smiled again, patting my arm, pausing for a moment before raising his hand to my folded wings. Curious, I held still as he ran his palm over my avian limbs, stroking my gleaming feathers. Their golden hue almost seemed to glow in the dancing flickers of the wood-eating light still crackling in the pit. After a few seconds, the man let out a sigh of his own, shaking his head with a chuckle and getting up again. He walked back over to the pit, sitting beside it and taking a long stick to prod at the crumbling bits of wood.

  I watched him watch the tendrils of light sink down further and further.

  By the time they’d disappeared completely, he was fast asleep.

  Smiling, I watched over him and the other three tents until I noticed the sky beginning to lighten again.