spears of Uu'kata (CLEAN(ish) Version)

Chapter 32 - Drums for the Fallen

Ahnekk awoke to the chirping of birds and a cool breeze on his neck. He blinked, frowning at the crick in his neck as he sat up with a groan.

Before him, lay Charlotte, her skin as white as the petals of a cloudflower.

His heart gave a lurch. He shot to his feet and pressed a hand to her throat, then heaved a sigh of relief. Her pulse was weak, but it was there.

He caressed her cheek and said, "Come back to us, Charlotte. Come back. You proved to be stronger than an ennelath. Be stronger than this. Be stronger than death and come back to carve your spear."

Most of the walls of the medical tent were drawn, except for the one facing the camp, and someone had left a plate of meat and fried shindi stalks beside him, though he had no appetite.

Shodara was nowhere to be seen.

hearing a soft step to the right, he looked to see a warrior of the Nine Vipers setting something on a table full of items. Cups, bowls, fabrics, dried flower petals and teas, dried meats, necklaces, bracelets, and all other manner of gifts.

"Offerings," the warrior said in explanation before walking away.

Sorrow nearly doubled him over. These were funeral offerings. When she died, they would be burned with her, to take to the next hunt, dance, or battle. Whichever afterlife her spark wanted to spend eternity in.

Music. Despite the warrior she'd been shaped into, he knew her spark wanted to make music. She would forever sing on the winds.

His eyes blurred and he swallowed, roughly clearing his throat as he looked back down at Charlotte. He stared at her for a long time, memorizing her face. Humans were his enemies and yet this human had changed him. There was a time he wanted to kill them all. That was before he'd captured one. Now... he knew he would still fight as his honor and the survival of his species depended on it. But... he wished he didn't have to.

Gondrol walked into the tent and without a word, started checking Charlotte's dressings and wounds. Ahnekk watched him for a few minutes, seeing the discoloration around his eyes from lack of sleep, the sadness bowing his shoulders.

Ahnekk stood and stalked from the tent.

A great celebration was being prepared for throughout all the camps. The clans would mingle, and there would be music and drums to celebrate the lives of those who fell in battle during this campaign. The last battle before the rains was done. It was time to return to the plateaus. This would be the biggest celebration of the year so the camps all bustled. Already, cookfires crackled beneath the carcasses of fat chini birds and plump, six-legged regathas. Kegs of wine were being stacked, and pavilions erected.

Ahnekk strode past it all and walked into the center of the traveling grounds. There, he plucked a banner from a rack and set it up in a holder, then hoisted it high.

A public meeting with the Helktas and the Order of the Arinoll was officially called for.

It took only an hour to gather everyone into the meeting tent But it felt it felt like the longest hour Ahnekk had ever experienced. Finally, he sat at a long table with all the other Helktas in the war camp. The tent was surrounded by murmuring spectators but the din was hushed.

Helkta Dorrehka of the Nine Vipers sat, broad shoulders straight, a foul expression on his face. He sported a new scar on his jaw that pulled the corner of his mouth down into a perpetual frown. Helkta Venket of the Shadow Claws hulked in his chair, the sides of his head shaved, shrewd eyes glittering under heavy brows. His tusks were polished to gleaming and one of them had two glittering cuffs fixed over it. One marked his tribe, one marked his shelen. Helkta Shonen had thick, white hair that hung to his waist in thick braids. He was the eldest of the Helktas in the lands of the Fire Bird. And Helkta Fysho of the Red Sands had the oddest color of red hair that hung to the middle of his back in thick dreads full of beads and cuffs. When he'd first become Helkta, the others had joked that he was too pretty to be taken seriously as the leader of his clan, but his ferocity in battle was without question the most impressive out of the Helktas, and he had a keen mind for tactics. Lastly, Thenderik, the leader of the Arinoll, sat regally in her chair, gray and white hair braided and held back from her face with leather cords. She was the one he needed to convince her. Every Helkta was in charge of his clan, but the Arinoll spanned all clans and protected all females. They all would do as she said, eventually.