Tríbal - Rule of the Drévan (excerpt)

Prologue

Prologue

‘No, Aíra. You must stop this, you’ll bring great shame to the Lórcans. For the sake of our tribe, this must end.’ Mother’s beak twisted with rage and her greying eyes pierced my soul, their warmth a distant memory.

‘I can’t, Mother. I-I love him—‘

‘There can be no love with an Ocárian,’ Mother interrupted. ‘It is forbidden to be with another tribe. We must retain our purity, you know this!’’

I can always tell when she’s upset, as the cream feathers flutter on her face and her head bobs uncontrollably. Sometimes it’s hard not to laugh, and I spend most of our arguments trying to keep a serious face. ‘Mother, you must understand—‘

‘No it is you, Aíra, that must understand,’ she interrupted. ‘You’re bound by the rules of Tribal Truth, and you know of Drévan lore.’ Oak frames blew from wall hangings with the angry beat of her wings.

Now I know it’s time to take a step back, when she flaps like that who knows what’ll happen. ‘Of course I know the rules, Mother,’ I reply with a sigh. Everyone’s read the stupid binding rules of Tribal Truth, the biggest tome in all of Tório, doesn’t mean it’ll happen though. ‘But what am I supposed to do? I’ve fallen in love.’

‘Then fall out of it, Zéht is not for you.’ She jabbed a sharp claw into my chest, sinking it deep into my feathers and almost piercing my skin.

She’ll never understand. How could she? It’s a long time since she’s been in-love. In fact, where is her lover? No doubt the other side of camp with some buck-beaked Lórcling. ‘Okay,’ I concede, lifting both my wings in a gesture of defeat. ‘I guess I’ll have to do something about it.’  

‘For the love of Drévan, Aíra,’ she said, a little calmer now. ‘If you continue down this path there can only be one outcome – devastation.’ She’d begun tidying the mess she made from her winged-outburst, pausing briefly as she glimpsed a broken frame she’d picked up. She sighed long. ‘Besides, love never lasts…’

The tossed frame skidded along the floor, coming to a stop by my feet. I plucked the damaged gift that my father had made from the broken glass, tracing a finger over the clustered twigs. I still remember how happy it’d made her, when he swooped down through the rain, showing off with acrobatics as he spiralled through the branches and into the nest. He was a handsome Lórcan; strong wings, sharp beak, and claws that could easily slice bark from the Oak. It’s a shame most fathers flee the nest, I’d really hoped mine was different. Zéht would never desert me. ‘I’m sorry, Mother. I sometimes forget how much he hurt you.’ I walk towards her, gently placing the frame on the rustic table, opening both wings to embrace her.

‘It’s okay, my little chick.’

Her strength always surprises me, as my shoulder-bones creak from the pressure of the squeeze. ‘Mom, easy…’

‘Oh, sorry Aíra,’ she releases her grip and gives my cheek a playful peck, brushing me down with her feathers. ‘I’ve been practicing my grip for when I meet your father again.’ Her beak curled into a mischievous smile.

As I watch her walk back towards her bubbling broth of carcass bones, throwing in another grubb for extra flavour, I can’t help but wonder if Drévan Lore is true. If they could cast two of their own into the Black Hole for breaking rules, what then would they do to me and Zéht? Tribal Truth demands that we stick with our own kind, threatening a fiery death to all creation if we fornicate with any other. I ponder at the table, sliding onto a graceless chair, and allow my eyes to wander around our primitive home. It may not be much, but it’s ours. Me, my mother, and Khalí - my sister. I was born during the Moon of the Great Túnbah, eighteen have since passed, and I’m too young to leave – though now I may have no choice.

Mother chirps my favourite lullaby as she stirs and tastes, it’s the one she sang to me as a chick. Whenever I hear it now, it reminds me that everything’s going to be okay. My beautiful lullaby.

 

How am I going to tell her I’m pregnant?