A Whisper of Wings (31 page)

Javïra gave a dreadful scream of fear, then whirled and launched into the air. Shadarii punched out with her fist, and Javïra crashed down beside the fire. Shadarii ground her down into the dust and wrenched back at her hair. Her dao whipped around beneath Javïra’s throat. Her arm tensed as she prepared to slash Javïra’s jugular.

Shadarii seemed mesmerised by the victim underneath her. The knife bit into Javïra’s flesh, blood gleaming on the blade as she slowly ground it home.

Kill? Kill for love…?

No!

The mob snarled in fury, screaming out for bloodshed. Shadarii looked at their mad eyes and felt her stomach twist with revulsion. Shadarii whirled back to her victim, and the crowd gasped as Shadarii sawed her blade. With a final rip the knife won free; Shadarii bound Javïra in her own severed hair and tossed the girl aside.

The crowd fell silent as Shadarii dropped her knives and walked away. Their fury drained and withered as she swept them with her sad green eyes.

Shadarii wept for a people lost in their own despair. Kotaru caught her as she abruptly swooned and fell, trying to still her trembling with his simple love.

One by one the people walked away, too ashamed to meet each others’ eyes…

***

A new day broke across the forest; the great moment - the Day of Shedding. Toteniiha dawned blue and fine - a flawless sky gleaming down upon a universe of restless trees. Entering the family lodge with breakfast in her hand, Shadarii swept her antennae in beneath the door post and looked in upon a place of tasteful furnishings and crumpled sleeping rolls.

Father was missing, Rain be praised; Shadarii felt crumpled after a night asleep in the open grass. She dug about to find a brush and briskly began to work the night dew from her fur.

“So there you are at last! Where have you been?” Zhukora lounged cross legged in the windowsill, happily primping out her headdresses for the Totenïha ceremony. “We looked for you! We need you and that bird-wing girl to teach those dance moves to the skull wings!”

Shadarii never even seemed to hear. She went across to her sleeping space and unrolled her little mat, then took her comb and began to tease the knots out of her tail, fluffing out her gorgeous brush until it shone like sunrise. She slipped out of her crumpled skirt and drew on her ceremonial gear.

Zhukora seemed remarkably content with life today. She lounged back on a mat and idly sharpened up her claws.

“Have you seen it? The priesthood think they are being clever, Shadarii. They aim to control the councils - and through the councils, to utterly dominate the tribes.” The girl stroked a steel file along one jet black talon. “But you touched upon it at the dance last night! Anger; an power made from a desire to be something greater - something far more wonderful! Can the priests give the people that glorious energy?

“No. Glory is found by reaching out for dreams…”

Shadarii’s sister went on with her own affairs. Keeping hidden behind a room partition, Shadarii silently slipped her belongings inside her belly-pack and pulled the draw string tight; she only needed food and she would be ready for her journey.

She would leave her home without regrets. The girl rose, took up her pack and headed for the door.

“Shadarii!”

Zhukora briskly snapped her fingers. “Take that good skirt off and get back into your normal clothes. You can dance in old leathers. We don’t want you drawing any more attention than we have to.”

Shadarii’s ceremonial robes were her only possessions of pride. She wanted Kotaru to see her in them. The girl obstinately turned her back and headed for the door.

Her hand cracked out to slap Shadarii on the face. Shadarii caught her fist before it could connect and held Zhukora’s arm at bay, glaring coldly up into her sister’s eyes.

Shadarii matched strength for strength, finally pushing Zhukora from her way.

Shadarii shoved past the astonished huntress and whirred out into the sky. Stunned, Zhukora breathed out slowly, watching her little sister disappear into the forest sky.

Sleeping mat, water gourd, spare clothes, spare moccasins… Shadarii knelt beneath the ferns and furiously stuffed her pack with goods. Kotaru’s gear already lay there beneath the hollow log; the same log where they had sat to stuff themselves with crayfish just a few short days ago. The girl’s mind reeled; to have dreamed so long, to have hoped so high, and now to have it all come true! Her hands trembled as she shut her pack and stuffed it down beside Kotaru’s.

Her antennae jerked. Someone was coming! Shadarii faded into cover and camouflaged her ïsha field. No mere hunter could have even guessed that she was there.

“I rather thought you might be here. I brought you some old hunting leathers and a digging stick. An axe… Some steel needles. I know you don’t have much useful gear. A-a hunter’s wife is going to need some tools.” Kïtashii angrily scrubbed away a tear then prattled onwards, scowling down inside her pack. “There’s food, too. We all went out and got you some - the other girls and I, I mean.”

Another tear slid down her nose, and Kïtashii let it fall. Her voice quavered with false cheeriness.

“Well! So there we are, eh? You are leaving tonight, of course. Have we all guessed right?”

Shadarii nodded miserably and slowly reached out to take Kïtashii in her arms. The little girl began to cry, her fingers twisting through Shadarii’s fur.

“G-go with you? Don’t be ridiculous. My mother needs me.” The girl scrubbed furiously at her face. “Anyway I c-can’t, you see. Someone has to help her look after my baby brother. She-she’s not very good to him…”

The two girls held each other tight. Shadarii’s soul tore itself clean in two.

My friend. My one and only friend.

I love you Kïtashii!

Finally Kïtashii drew away; her hands lingered on Shadarii’s fur, trying to hold the memory of her touch.

“Well! I suppose one day everything comes down to a goodbye. We-we really shouldn’t cry, should we.” Kïtashii trembled, the words sticking in her throat. “I love you, Shadarii. Goodbye my friend. Go in love…”

With that Kïtashii turned and fled, leaving nothing but a lingering touch of love. Shadarii clutched Kïtashii’s gift and cried silent tears of pain.

***

All through the forest the air trembled to the throb of drums as ten thousand dancers stamped in unison. Girls trilled their tongues as choirs sang out in glorious harmony. Great lines of dancers wavered back and forth; painted head dresses blazed like a thousand rainbow skies. King and commoners, old men and tiny babes, all had their place in the surging pattern of the Totenïha dance¹.

Shadarii crept backwards through the bushes. There was something wildly powerful about the spectacle of tribal dance; it steeped the soul with an awesome sense of majesty. The girl closed the ferns and forced herself to steal away, sliding silently slid off into the forest.

Shadarii had decked herself out in all her finery - painted skirt and painted halter, with a headdress of feathers streaming through her hair. Her wedding gift to Kotaru dangled from her belt. Fluid sloshed inside the hollow gourd making Shadarii grin with wicked glee; it was a gift to make Kotaru laugh and the High Priestess rage and scream. The girl dove through streaming shafts of light and let her imagination soar.

Down beside the little waterfall, Kotaru jittered in agitation. The young man stood and chewed his nails, his fears raging in battle with his common sense. Sunset had come, and still no Shadarii! Was she coming? Was she having second thoughts? Perhaps she’d been discovered! What should he do? Fly back to the village and try to rescue her, or go and seek his team for help? The poor boy clutched his addled head in indecision.

Love is a dreadfully debilitating disease. Kotaru jumped and jittered, pacing back and forth; it took him almost a full minute to see the soft figure standing expectantly before him.

Kotaru’s eyes went wide.

Shadarii!

He breathed her name out like a prayer. Kotaru spread his arms and pulled her in against his chest. She buried her face against his fur and filled him with her precious light.

He held her at arms length and drank in the gorgeous sight of her. Kotaru gave a husky sigh and shook his head in wonder.

“Sweet Rain! You look so-so beautiful!”

He looked beautiful. His hunting leathers were strangely careless and comfortable. So Kotaru. Shadarii held his hands up to her face and worshipfully kissed his long, fine fingers.

The lovers stared into each other’s eyes. They slowly sank down to their knees beside the tiny waterfall. Shadarii stared, hardly daring to breathe as Kotaru softly stroked the fur across her cheeks.

Gifts!
Shadarii jerked the gourd from her belt, proffering it impishly towards Kotaru. The hunter eyed it with suspicion.

“What’s this?”

Shadarii laughingly mimed the act of drinking.

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Shadarii took a swig and heaved a sigh, then thrust the gourd beneath Kotaru’s nose.

<>

The hunter gingerly raised the gourd and drank. The liquid had a delightful creamy taste. It warmed his stomach slowly, spreading out to soothe his frazzled nerves.

Shadarii took another long pull at the flask then passed it back towards Kotaru, blowing her hair back from her eyes. He took a final drink and firmly put the gourd away.

Kotaru had picked a perfect route for their escape. They would curve wide away from the shortest path, circling around the mountains to throw off the pursuit. Once across the river, they would shed their wings and go on foot.

The packs were swiftly fastened into place. Kotaru took up his spears and woomera, his throwing sticks and dao, then reached out to take his bride by the hand.

“So my love, are you ready?”

Shadarii stood staring back towards the distant sound of dancing, taking one lasting glance at the home she left behind.

Kotaru softly stroked her hair. She was giving up her whole world for him; every face she knew, every place that she had ever cared for. Kotaru swallowed, brushing his face against Shadarii’s cheek.

“I love thee, Shadarii.”

Shadarii looked adoringly into Kotaru’s eyes. The two lovers gripped each others hands and shared a final kiss, then with a whisper of wings they rose into the forest sky.

The tribe broke from its dancing to take a brief but well earned rest. Down beside a stream, Zhukora sat and laughed with her devoted circle of disciples. A passing hunter handed her a cup of water, blinking in amazement as she smiled at him and thanked him by name.

Zhukora disdained to wear a noble’s robes for the ceremonies; she had dressed herself in the same leathers as the commonfolk. Even so, Zhukora blazed with a powerful charisma. Her lean body glowed with health - virginal, untouchable and strong. Her eyes could grip a man and hold his very soul.

The girl spoke to a growing crowd, her voice somehow reaching out to grip her listeners’ hearts like a hypnotic spell.

“The moral decay of a society can be put down to its failure to grasp one essential truth: That the possession of power must be coupled with responsibility. To be given the people’s sacred trust is an honour! No person should ever merely take it as their due!

“When any man takes without giving in return, that is theft! When a noble takes deference and obedience without acknowledging duty in return, then that too is a crime! They have lost their moral right to rule us!”

A silent ring of people had gathered all around her, and Zhukora reached out to take them with her eyes.

“We are at the Totenïha, the sacred time of shedding when our tribe remembers who we are. We remember what it means to be a Katakanii!” Zhukora looked each and every listener in the face. “What does it mean to be Katakanii? Does it mean accepting leaders who have no right to our respect? Does it mean living in terror of the future? Think on it as you dance. Speak of it with your families while you wait for new wings to grow. There are answers! The future calls to us. We need only gain the will to act!”