Eighteen: Kuraĝon

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Kuraĝon

It seemed like hours before the door blew open again, letting a swirl of snow in. They were still huddled around the fire, the beastkins snoring away on their backs, but Kuraĝon hadn’t been able to relax.

As the freezing wind threatened to put out the fire, she got to her feet, turning to glare at her brother.

“You’re an idiot!” she snapped. He shook his head wearily. The hood of his cloak was down, his dark hair almost white from the snow matted in it. He walked towards the fire, dripping water everywhere, and she could see his shivering. “Hitto vieköön,Ali, you fool.”

He barely glanced at her. “Not now,” he muttered, his voice hoarse. He knelt in front of the fire, nudging the beastkins to the side. They moved, grumbling, but settled quickly enough, watching with gleaming eyes. Intrigued, Kuraĝon joined him, sitting on her chair near Aura.

“What have you got, Ali?”

He looked up, carefully placing his bundle on the floor in front of the warmth. She hadn’t noticed it at first, but now she wanted to know what it was.

“Ali?” She stopped speaking, staring at it in wonder. She hadn’t seen one for years. “A nightbird?”

He nodded, gently stroking the lightly feathered head of the weird looking creature. “Only a baby. Lost in the snow, I’d expect.”

She slid to kneel next to him, barely noticing that Aura was doing the same. “But it’s too early for them to be hatched. It’s the middle of winter!” She reached out, mimicking his movements. Nightbirds were rare now, since the humans had hunted them. They were curious creatures, about the size of a medium dog when fully grown, with four clawed feet and wings like a bat that were lightly feathered. The rest of their body was covered in light fur, usually all different shades of black and brown.

This little one was different, and perhaps that was why it had been found on the ground.

Instead of being the normal brown and black, its rough fur was silver and white, the pale feathers almost translucent in the firelight.

“It’s very pretty. What are you going to do with it?”

It moved sluggishly then, lifting its oversized head to reveal a sharp beak and forward facing eyes. Opening its beak, it let out a piecing shriek, making them all wince.

“Feed it,” her brother replied dryly. He got to his feet, moving to where they had put the leftovers from the night’s meal. He came back with a few pieces of meat, and dropped them in front of the nightbird.

“Is it ready for meat?” she asked, but she quickly had an answer as the baby snapped down the food in a few quick gulps, soon opening its beak to shriek again. It clearly wanted more. He fed it until it refused more, both her and Aura watching in wonder. The baby yawned, revealing a long pink throat topped with that sharp beak, and crawled over to her brother’s hands, curling up on them to fall asleep, snoring very lightly. Kuraĝon found herself smiling. It was such a cute sound from a very odd looking beast.

“What are you going to do with it, Ali? It’s tiny.”

He shrugged, gently stroking the fluffy down on the little creature’s head and neck. “Take care of it, I suppose,” he answered quietly. “It’s far too young to be left alone.”

Aura tugged on Ailill’s cloak, catching his attention. When they both were looking at her, her fingers flew through the air.

Can you tell if it’s a boy or a girl? Can we name it? Please?

Despite herself, Kura found herself smiling slightly, but she didn’t answer. She waited for her brother to answer.

After all, he was the one who knew the native animals of the land the best.

After a long moment, where all he did was lightly stroke the feathered head of the baby creature, he nodded. “Yes,” he said simply. “It’s a girl. She’s a survivor.”

“Kù?” Kura whispered, and he nodded.

“Yes. A kù. Survivor,” he added, for Aura’s benefit. The little girl nodded, still staring at the young nightbird. Moving carefully, Ailill got to his feet, and gently placed the young animal in a small box lined with spare cloth.

“She’ll be fine,” he said quietly, glancing at them both. Kuraĝon looked away, unable to look at either of them. The shock of nearly losing him was still too strong, and she couldn’t trust herself to speak without shouting at him. From the look in his eyes, he was expecting it. But because the girl was there, Kuraĝon held her tongue.

He would feel her anger later.

“Bed, all of you. It’s late.”

The beastkins didn’t move except to roll onto their backs and start snoring again. Kuraĝon stifled a laugh, and got to her feet, pulling her cloak off and hanging it on the back of a chair.

“Goodnight,” she said simply, and vanished into her room. She closed the door, and finally let go of the tight hold she’d had on her fear. A few tears trickled down her cheeks, but she angrily brushed them away.

She couldn’t lose him. Ever.

Kura’s Curses:

Hitto vieköön – damn it

Kù – ‘survivor’

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