The Bird and The Fish

TBTF, Part 5: Morning Greetings

(The morning after landing in the cave. Zahra pov. TBTF= The Bird and The Fish)

The early morning sun filters through the trees, casting a warm light through the skylight in the roof of the cave. My eyes slowly flutter open when the sun finally reaches my face. I yawn and sit up, stretching my sore arms over my head. The rest of my body is still incredibly sore as well, but it's not as bad as I thought it would be.

"Good morning," Tangaroa's cheery voice comes, and I turn to see him seated on the edge of the pool as he watches me wake up. "Morning," I reply, my voice slightly rough from sleep. "How bird feel?" he asks, his gaze lingering on the day-old bandages scattered over my body. "Sore, but otherwise fine," I say with a shrug, wincing slightly when the wound on my side gets jostled by the action.

"Bird hurt?" he asks, moving closer to me with a concerned gaze. "I'm fine," I reply, trying to downplay my actual discomfort. "No," he says firmly, clearly not believing my lie. But before I can protest, he grabs a small vial from wherever he keeps the rest of his healing supplies. "Drink," he says, placing the wooden bottle in my hand.

"Okay..." I open the bottle, only to be hit by the pungent smell of whatever's inside. "What is this stuff?" I ask, my nose wrinkling as I hold it away from my face. "Drink," Tangaroa insists, clearly not taking no for an answer. "Fine," I groan, taking a breath to mentally prepare myself before downing the liquid inside.

I nearly choke as I swallow it, the surprisingly thick liquid leaving a disgusting taste in my mouth. "What the fuck was that?!" I cough, chugging a cup of water he gave me to wash it down. "Help with sore," he replies, looking slightly amused by my reaction. "Don't laugh at me, you oversized fish," I grumble, still recovering from the sheer taste of it. Tangaroa breaks into a fit of laughter, clearly enjoying my grumbling.

"I'm going to go look for something to eat," I say, getting up from my spot on my moss cot. "Careful!" Tangaroa calls after me, still chuckling about my earlier grumpiness.

"Yeah, yeah," I say, rolling my eyes as I walk out of the cave through the entrance nearby, the vines hanging down brushing against my wings. I look around the clearing surrounding me, my gaze soon landing on the familiar looking satchel buried in a bush. "Thank the gods," I mutter, relieved that my satchel is safe and sound. I pick it up out of the bush to inspect it, sighing with another wave of relief when I find that everything it still there.

I sling my satchel over my shoulder, digging the spare dagger I keep out so I can go foraging for food. Hopefully I can find game of some sort, I think as I walk around the foliage surrounding the clearing. I'm not familiar with this area, so I'll have to ask Tangaroa whether or not whatever I find is actually edible.

Eventually, I come across a rabbit peacefully munching on a wild blueberry bush. I carefully creep up on the small creature, expertly pouncing on it when I get close enough. It struggles for a moment before I twist it's neck, its fluffy body going limp in my hands. This should be enough for today, I think, making my way back to the cave with the rabbit in hand.

"I'm back," I call once I reach the cave entrance, pushing the vines out of the way as I walk inside. "What find?" he asks, curious about the fluffy bundle in my hand. "I managed to find a rabbit," I reply, setting it down on the ground. "I'm going to grab some firewood so I can cook it."

He watches me prepare my food and the fire with fascination, but that fascination quickly turns to disgust as he watches me gut and skin the rabbit. "What? It's not like I can eat the guts and fur," I say, feigning amusement at his obvious displeasure for the process of preparing food. He looks confused for a moment, as if trying to figure out the right word to describe how he feels about it. "I think the word you're looking for is " gross"," I say, as if reading his mind. "Gross," he repeats, nodding in agreement.

I finish gutting the rabbit and skewer its now skinned body on a stick, placing it over the fire on a makeshift spit. "And now, we wait for it to cook," I say, taking a seat beside the fire to make sure the smoke goes out of the skylight.

Tangaroa and I sit in a comfortable silence while the rabbit cooks, the smell of cooked meat wafting through the air. While I wait, I decide to get the arrows that are still stuck in my wings. It doesn't take long for me to get all of the debris out, and my food finishes cooking just in time. I remove the rabbit from the spit, placing it on a large clean leaf I found to use as a plate.

"Can try?" Tangaroa asks, watching as I pull apart the cooked rabbit. "I don't see why not," I reply, tearing off a piece for him to try, making sure it's cool before giving it to him. He takes a small bite of it, his eyes lighting up when he tastes it. He eagerly eats the rest of what I gave him, reaching for more. "Don't be greedy," I say, playfully smacking his hand away. "You can have the leftovers." He huffs and pouts, but reluctantly obliges.

I tear off a leg for myself, biting into the perfectly cooked flesh of the rabbit. I let out a hum of approval, clearly enjoying my hot meal. Once I eat my fill, I let him eat what I didn't. Which he gratefully accepts, eating almost every scrap of meat he can find.