A red hawk flew through the air, scanning the treetops as it did. The trees stretched on miles into the distance, but it could see where the trees ended and plains began. By air, travel would be quick, and any other hawk would have continued on without turning back. They weren’t any other hawk, however, and they knew what would be a few minutes for it would be far longer than for its human companion. So, wishing not to leave the side of said companion, they turned around and made their way closer to the ground.
The companion in question was an exceedingly young human with dark skin and red hair, only thirteen years of age. She wore a warm fur coat, the forests of Reine far colder than her home of Acamus, and had a look of maturity on her face that far exceeded her age. Clasped to the side of her waist were two things, the first of which being a bag of food for her hawk and the second being a book. She watched as the hawk drew closer and raised an arm, the bird landed on it effortlessly.
“Will be a few hours. No town nearby.”
Those words would not be heard by anyone else, for they hadn’t truly been spoken. Only the girl could hear them, and it caused a sigh to escape her lips. She had been stuck in the middle of what felt like nowhere for a long time now, and it was starting to aggravate her greatly. It had been two days since she had seen any sign of civilization, the odd knight or passing merchant only offering so much company, especially given her homeland. If anything, more than a fair few knights seemed ready to put her in chains just for being in their territory. She was certain the only thing that kept them off her was her book.
They knew well what she was, and wouldn’t dare try to chain her for that reason alone.
“At least the day is warm,” She muttered, looking up to the sky. She shielded her eyes from the blinding light of Rul, still working its way to the sky's apex. “Hopefully it remains that way, the closer we get to Pierzé. I’ve heard the northern reaches of Reine are nowhere near as pleasant.”
“Is true. Very cold, even with feathers.” Her hawk told her, giving a near human-like shiver. “Not fun during cold times.”
“I can imagine. Even though I’ve never seen snow before, I’ve heard from soldiers that winter up north can be quite hellish,” She replied, giving a nod of her head as she did so. She glanced around at the trees as she passed them by, a scowl marking her face as she did. “Just makes you wonder more about why the peckers wo–”
“Harpen!”
The hawk cawed right into her ear, causing the girl to stammer to the side and cup her ears in both annoyance and slight pain. The hawk took to finding a new perch on top of her head, looking down at his companion. Though their face remained unchanged, the human knew when her avian friend was upset with her. While she appreciated being corrected on her bad tendencies, she would never enjoy the way he went about it.
“Not right in my ear, Teolus, please,” She told the hawk, her scowl growing at her friend’s actions.
“Won’t learn otherwise. Reonda should call them the right name,” Teolus responded, lightly stomping on her head with his talon. “Big lizard would be unhappy. Don’t make her unhappy.”
“I know, and I’m trying to improve,” The girl, Reonda, replied. “It’s hard to break out of the conditioning you believed in most of your life, okay?”
“No excuses! Do better!” Teolus shouted at her, stomping as hard on her head as his talons allowed. “Reonda shouldn’t excuse bad behavior.”
“Right, right, now stop that please!” Reonda replied, waving her arms above her head. Teolus took to the air in order to avoid the flails, hovering in midair till the girl changed to clutching her head instead. “Great, now my head feels funny.”
“Sorry. Reonda wouldn’t listen otherwise,” The hawk reminded her. His words earned him a firm glare, which he ignored by landing on her shoulder. “Should continue walking. Losing light time.”
Reonda gave a nod, for the hawk was right. While it was still early in the day, each moment standing still was another moment away from civilization. The plan for their journey was simple: go through Makaus and visit the faire, then take the road from there to Pierzé. She would not tell Teolus the reason for heading to such a place, but he didn’t need to. After all, even an oracle vessel was allowed secrets, and she had more than a fair few of them.
Not everything was a secret to the bird though, for while Reonda was a secretive individual, she did make certain things known. For one, she was to take the place of Am’a’ros when the Oracle passed on, for not even divine beasts such as them were immune to death. He also knew that his ability to think like a human was thanks to her, the two signing a pact of blood that made him something called a familiar. He wasn’t too sure of the details, but it was apparently why he couldn’t find it in him to leave her side. Some strange mental conditioning caused by the oath, which she had apologized profusely for.
He never really cared. As far as he was concerned, he seemed no different, and that was all that mattered to him. It was clear though that the girl wasn’t exactly used to being around birds, and it became clear when he had learned about what her home was like. Apparently, the people of Acamus hated birds. They hated them so much that they had banned a hunting method popular in Reine known as falconry just because it meant cooperating with avians. Those first few weeks were a struggle for them both, especially with her having to keep his existence a secret. Yet Reonda put in the work to improve, and he would be there to help her along.
Perhaps one day she could drop that “pecker” word she used when referring to the Harpen. It was a goal of hers, after all, one that he couldn’t help but feel she was making unnecessarily hard. It was why, as much as she hated his methods, Teolus was keen on making the experience of saying it as hard for her as possible, hoping that the mere thought of him cawing directly into her ear would finally get her to stop. Especially if she was as set on overcoming the faults of her nation as she made herself out to be.
For the time being, they walked down the road with nothing but the slight hum of a tune coming through Reonda’s lips. It was a song that Teolus had become very familiar with: a marching tune that had been taught to the girl by her father. He wasn’t interested enough to peek into who the man was, but she had revealed to him that they were a military man. In fact, that was all he knew about her family. Just made it even more clear to him that it was not his business.
“Does this marching song have words?” Teolus asked as he tilted his head as the girl. Reonda looked at him with a disappointed look, and the hawk had his answer. “Do any marching songs have words?”
“Yes, but I didn’t memorize any of them,” Reonda said with a nod. “I find the sound of a flute or clarinet more interesting than that of spoken words. I was actually learning to play the flute before…”
She did not finish what she was about to say for two different reasons. The first was because she couldn’t bring herself to be honest with her familiar. She wished not to recall the true reason she was currently in Reine, for that reason brought with it things she had in some ways wished she never bothered to learn. She would have to tell Teolus in time, but while her mind still digested the uncomfortable truth she would keep it a secret.
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The second, however, was a small figure laying at the right edge of the road. Her back was turned to Reonda, but it was clear from the ashen feathers what she was. The Acamian’s body seized up as she looked at them, fearing her body’s immediate response. What stood in front of her was a species that her entire country both looked at in hatred and fear. If she had been a few weeks younger, she likely would have tried to dispose of it as her parents had told her to do.
That wasn’t the case now, however. While fear still stood in her heart at the Harpen’s treatment of her people centuries ago, she wasn’t like her parents. Hesitantly, Reonda walked toward the Harpen with eyes darting every which way. Each step was easier and easier than the one before, but her body remained stiff. She looked to Teolus and the hawk gave her a nod; a sign she was doing nothing wrong. That eased her up a bit, and she quickly closed the distance between herself and the Harpen after.
“A pe- Harpen,” Reonda said, correcting herself so that her ears would not ring yet again. That, and it was the correct name for their species, pecker being a slur used for them from her homeland. “What is she doing out here in the middle of nowhere?”
“Parents must be around!” Teolus said. “Should I look for them? They’re likely looking for ber.”
“Good idea. I’ll stay here with her as you do,” Reonda said, kneeling over the Harpen’s form. She couldn’t help but feel worried; the poor hen was younger than her! “With any luck they will be close by.”
Without another word Teolus took off, leaving Reonda with the Harpen. For a time the Acamian sat there, unsure of if she should wake the hen or not. Yet the longer and longer Teolus was gone the more worried she felt. Every second that ticked by meant less hope that her parents were indeed close. She sent a silent prayer to the Oracles, knowing that at least one would listen to what she said. This time they did not give a response.
With the uncomfortable knowledge she might be charged with helping the hen, Reonda decided to get a look at her from the front. She could tell from a glance at her face that her current sleep wasn’t a pleasant one. Her wings were wrapped tightly around something she couldn’t see, tail shielding her scaled legs from the cold. This wasn’t the first time she had seen a Harpen, and the second time in the span of weeks that she had seen one so vulnerable. She could only be thankful that this time it was likely not her fellow Acamians who were responsible.
If they were she would make sure they paid for it.
Her eyes stayed on the Harpen’s wings, curiosity filling her as to what she could be holding. She understood that it was also possible that she was trying to hug herself for warmth, but she knew that the feathers on a Harpen were made to withstand frigid cold and that made it unlikely. She reached her hand out towards her wings for a second, then immediately pulled them back. Though she knew they weren’t present, the mere idea of touching the Harpens wings just to see what they held made her feel like her parents were watching her.
She could feel the shocked gaze of her mother in the back of her mind. It almost felt like she was grieving, as if Reonda having the mere idea of touching the Harpen was akin to losing a daughter. It was far more suppressed than what she felt in her father, however. It was like she could feel a blade pressed against the side of her neck, looking at his daughter utterly ashamed. The idea of him being ashamed made her far more afraid than she was of any Harpen she had ever seen.
“Get out of my head. Get out of my head. You are not here. You can not hurt me, so get out of my head,” Reonda pleaded, bringing her hands instead to her heads as she tried desperately to get their faces out. “Get out. Get out get out get out… get out!”
She didn’t notice that her shout had made the Harpen flinch, eyes locked on the ground. Her pleads seem to do nothing but make the image of her parents worse. They refused to leave her mind, the invisible blade just pressing more and more against her neck to the point she was sure it had cut her flesh. Her father’s expression changed from being ashamed to downright furious at her, her heart starting to beat rapidly.
“You aren’t here. You… you aren’t, I know it,” She said, her voice feeling weaker as the beat of her heart seemed to fill her ears. “You can’t stop me. You can’t hurt me. So please, I beg you, just leave me al-“
“Kieke’e te?”
The sudden addition of a new, rather tired voice shook her free of her mind’s torment. The twisted version of her parents faded away and left her exhausted. Her hands reached to the ground to keep her from falling onto it face first. She looked back in front of her, and she was certain her rapidly beating heart skipped a beat as she noticed the Harpen hen before her awake. It was more than clear who it was who had spoken to her, and any doubt it was cleared away as they restated their question.
“Kieke’e te? Kieke’e te?”
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“Who are you?” Nyal asked the human girl before her, mind still somewhat foggy from having been woken up.
She didn’t know why the human was in front of her, but they indeed were there. Why had they screamed right in front of her? Did they think she was dead? No, not even in her sleep addled state did she think that was the cause. Yet it didn’t change the fact that they seemed on the verge of tears for no reason. Surely her parents knew what was… going… on.
Slowly the events of last night returned to her brain. The unknown figure that had stood on top of her, running into the woods, everything returned in an uncomfortable rush that woke her up completely. She looked around, hoping to see her parents nearby, but the only individual that she saw was the girl now staring at her. She ignored the stare and stood up, panick starting to set in at what was a possibly horrifying truth.
“Mom! Dad!” Nyal called into the air as long as she could. “Mommy! Daddy! I’m here, I’m here!”
Her words dissipated into the wind with no reply. She went to call again, but a sudden rush of lightheadedness hit her head due to how quickly she rose to her feet. She stumbled back before falling right into the lap of the girl behind her, who froze at the sudden contact. Not thinking about what she was doing, the girl pushed Nyal off her, causing the hen to stumble forward. After a few steps she stopped, and turned her attention to the human, who looked away sheepishly.
“Sorry, sorry,” The human said, the words some of the little acamese Nyal actually knew. “I… didn’t mean to do that.”
There was a great deal of shame in the human girl's eyes. Nyal couldn’t help but feel confused why. Willingly or not, she had entered their personal space without permission. With a smile, she walked up to the human with a smile on her face. They looked to her just in time to see her place a wing on their head in an attempt to comfort the girl. It just made her once again freeze up, though Nyal didn’t realize this.
“Don’t worry, you’re good,” Nyal told her, even though she was certain they wouldn’t understand a word she said. After a few quick pats on the head, they brought their wings back to their side. “See, completely unharmed! Now, uh, have you seen my parents anywhere? Their names are Aria and Lasp.”
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Reonda wasn’t entirely sure what had been said to her, but the fact it was all said in harparic meant one of two things. The first was that it meant the Harpen believed she knew their language, which was incorrect. While Am’a’ros had taught her some of the basic words in the harparic language she hadn’t used them at all since she last met with the Oracle. She had forgotten them completely, though she swore at least a few of the words they said were vaguely familiar. However, to Reonda, the more likely scenario was one she was far more worried about: they didn’t know acamese.
“I’m sorry, I don’t know Harparic,” Reonda explained, hanging and shaking her head. “Do you… do you know Acamese perhaps?”
All Reonda got for an answer was a tilt of the head, followed by the exact realization the Acamian had. No, they did not know Acamese, and that realization led to an uncomfortably long moment of silence as both tried to figure out how to go forward. Several questions swirled through Reonda’s mind, the first of which being how the Harpen managed to get over the blockade. After all, if they were a Reine native then surely they would know how to speak acamese, and the hen seemed a year or two too young to fly. That meant there was a hole in the northern blockade, and if there was a hole…
“Then our hold on the northern sea is weakening,” Reonda replied, a smallest hint of a smile on her face. “Good, Acamus hasn’t won quite yet. Reine has a chance to push us back.”
Her face was suddenly met with the end of a wing, spooking her a bit. Looking from the ground up to the Harpen said wing was attached to, she saw a smile. She followed the wing to the hen’s chest, let out a gasp at what she saw held in her other wing. A book, one that looked exactly like her own. There was no mistaking it, it was a Historia. Reonda knew that meant that the hen in front of her was an oracle vessel just like her.
“Nyal.”
“Huh?” Reonda asked, immediately turning her attention away from the historia and back to the hen.
“Teke’ke, Nyal,” The Harpen said. She brought the outstretched wing back and patted her chest. “Nyal. Ke Nyal Mols Mors.”
“You’re… Nyal?” Reonda asked, pointing at the hen. When she got a nod as her response, she let out a sigh. She then pointed to herself, a sheepish smile on her face. “Uh… teke Reonda. Reonda Perciple.”
“Reonda?” Nyal repeated. This time it was the Acamian’s turn to nod, Nyal smiling widely as she finally poked a small hole in the language barrier that separated them. “Kroka Reonda.”
“Uh… Kroka?” Reonda said, not entirely sure if her response was right or not. This was gonna be very difficult.