Eli awoke to a pleasant warmth suffusing his body. He blinked the sleep from his eyes as he reassembled his memories, only to find his thirst tearing at his senses like wildfire. The faint, metallic tang of adrenaline lingered on his tongue, sharpening the edge of his discomfort. He suppressed a cough, knowing that the pain would only be made worse by the fruitless effort, and pushed his focus towards his current state.
He'd been tied with his wrists above his head, bound by rough twists of rope to a smooth-worn post. His outerwear was gone, leaving him to sit on the cold, hard ground in just his shirt and jeans. Even his boots had been stripped away, leaving his feet exposed to the chill of the packed earth below. Ripples of confusion and anxiety washed over his mind. He was alive, but the relief was fleeting — he had no idea where he was, how he'd gotten here, or what his captors were planning to do next. Unwilling to draw unnecessary attention to himself, he suppressed the urge to curse or struggle, and let his head hang half-limp, the ache in his arms pulsing in time with his racing thoughts as he scanned his surroundings.
The tent resembled a yurt more than the traditional camping tent he was used to; despite its larger size, it was stuffed full enough to feel claustrophobic. His eyes passed over carefully embroidered fabrics with intricate patterns, warm furs layered over each other, and riding equipment for a creature he couldn't fathom. In the center of the structure was a brazier adorned with a contraption for cooking, the burning coals inside lazily wafting a sweet, smoky fragrance. The sight stirred memories of nights spent camping; the comfortable memories soothed him before his anxiety at the unknown pushed its way back to the surface.
He swung his head to the side to get a better look at the interior, only to freeze when he found himself face-to-face with an enormous pair of eyes. Vaguely triangular, they were nearly consumed by pupils, with only a sliver of blue visible at the far edge. He blinked, momentarily paralyzed by shock. The creature, equally startled, recoiled in surprise. "♪♩♬♭♮♬♯♩♪♫♩♬!", it exclaimed in a series of frantic, disjointed chirps. Scrambling backwards, it paused, then raised its voice again, this time producing a sequence of sounds that more closely resembled speech than birdsong, heavy with a's and t's. His surprise caught up with him soon after; he was compelled to exclaim, "Gah, fuck!", only for his words to devolve into a painful coughing fit. When he finally regained his breath, he turned back to what he now assumed was his captor and steeled himself for a closer look.
The creature stood just taller than a meter, its raptor-like form covered in feathers that shifted with each motion. Broad, fletched wings stretched from its armpits to its wrists, and it stood with both clawed hands tucked close to its chest. Eli's stomach clenched as his eyes fell to its lower limbs, where fine down masked the terrifying precision of its design. Its powerful feet gripped the ground with unsettling ease, and each silent step betrayed the instincts of a born predator. The claws — three curved talons and a dewclaw at every wrist and ankle — were formidable, but it was the foot claws, nearly double the size of those on its hands, that sent a shiver racing down his spine.
The alien tilted its head, eyes narrowing curiously as it studied Eli. A second fan of broad feathers at its rear flared and rustled as it contemplated, framing the long, feathered tail that trailed behind it. On its tip was a white-rimmed radial feather that caught the dim light as it moved, each subtle shift suggesting it was used for balance. Muted tones of navy and midnight blue banded its deep grey and inky black plumage. Each of its motions seemed imbued with an almost tender precision, as though it feared its very gaze ran the risk of unraveling him.
Eli swallowed instinctively as he tried to grasp the alien's intent. Was this an attempt at communication? A greeting? A display of emotion? Its meaning eluded him, the context too foreign. Still, he mirrored the alien's movements as best he could, raising his eyebrows and offering another shallow nod, hoping against hope that it conveyed something useful. The creature paused, its head tilting slightly, as though weighing his response. For all its liveliness, its eyes betrayed a deep intensity, a searching quality that suggested it was as bewildered by him as he was by it.
The raptor's movements slowed, its body easing into a stance that felt less tense yet no less deliberate. Its face gently morphed between several confused expressions, as if it was struggling to process his presence. Its ears twitched, then folded back to reveal delicate folds of featherless skin. The alien couldn't seem to sit still as it considered him; it shifted its wings and stepped back and forth as it adjusted its balance and paced in place.
His deep attention was pulled from his examination when the raptor began to vocalize, repeating a three-word phrase in sharp, swooping melodic tones. "Îtuti, kas'i îtukaɻeti," it said, deliberately enunciating every syllable, though its meaning was lost to him. Eli could only stare, his mouth wavering between gaping in stunned confusion and clamping shut to shield his parched, aching throat.
"Îtukaɻeti", it repeated. Its feathers bristled with what could have been annoyance, or perhaps worry, which caused it to settle them with a ruffle of its wings.
"I don't—" he tried to respond, his voice cracking to splinters before dissolving into a fit of coughing. "W-water," he rasped. The creature tilted its head, ears flicking with what he hoped was curiosity or concern. Eli struggled as he fumbled for a way to communicate. Desperation forced him to mimic the sound of slurping water, but the dry, warm air of the yurt tore at him, triggering another brutal cough that left him gasping.
Thankfully, that seemed to be enough. Without breaking its gaze, the creature scurried over to a collection of clay pots and fibrous sacks on the far side of the yurt. As it walked, its body bobbed up and down with each step, its head held unnervingly steady — the movement recalled a chicken, only scaled up and tinged with a cat's grace. It kept its arms bent close to its chest, elbows thoughtfully angled to the ground to prevent its wings from brushing against the cluttered assortment of objects.
It paused at the pots, eyes narrowing with focus. The alien's head tilted side to side, as though weighing the possibilities before it. Its ears twitched as a soft, questioning chirp escaped its throat — a sound both deliberate and oddly intimate, as though it was consulting some unseen presence. After a beat of silence, it reached out to grasp a sloped earthenware bowl in one clawed hand. With a fluid motion it dipped the vessel into one of the pots to scoop clear, clean water out. The sound of water sent a jolt through Eli's body, his thirst sharpening his attention into a painfully singular point. Of course, he remained bound, and so despite his thirst he could only watch as time began to stretch around the alien's every movement.
The alien's eyes locked onto his, its expression flickering with understanding — or perhaps empathy — before it stepped forward, extending the filled bowl toward him. Eli strained against his bindings to press his cracked lips against the cool rim of the glassy stoneware, desperate enough to push aside all other thoughts of curiosity. The first sip was agony and relief intertwined as the cool water ran against his raw throat. With each greedy swallow he felt his dehydration recede, leaving only a hum of discomfort in the background. The alien watched in silence, its face unreadable. Yet its ears had risen slightly and its tail swayed with a slow, gentle grace, motions which Eli took as indications of calm.
When the bowl was finally drained, Eli slumped back against the post, wincing as the coarse bindings dug into his wrists. His captor withdrew the bowl and set it aside on the ground, seemingly unwilling to leave his side for the moment. He glanced at the alien, his mind struggling to reconcile the deliberate kindness with its inscrutable nature, and managed a hoarse, barely audible, "Thank you."
The raptor blinked slowly, deliberately locking its gaze to him as it laboriously closed and then opened its eyes, the gesture carrying a weight Eli couldn't yet decipher. After a pause, it spoke again, each word measured and carefully drawn out: "Itukaɻeti."
As Eli focused on the creature, trying to make sense of its intent, he suddenly became aware of his own position relative to his captor. Even bound and seated, he was perfectly at eye level with the creature. Despite its power and grace, it was smaller than he had realized. The realization was almost disarming, its size a stark contrast to the power and elegance it had exuded moments before.
Yet as the alien stared at him with an intensity that defied its stature, Eli snapped his attention back to the moment to wrestle with the unease growing in his chest. Trusting his captor felt foolish, reckless even, but the alternative — rejecting the fragile thread of connection it seemed to offer, not to mention the associated food and shelter — felt equally dangerous. He drew a shallow breath, and decided in that moment that whatever this was — gesture, word, intent, or something else entirely — it was worth trying to reciprocate. Communication, no matter how fragile, was the only path forward.
With no small amount of trepidation he repeated the gesture, counting six full seconds in his head as he closed his eyes and opened them again. Then, with a tentative lift of his tone, he replied, "Eytoo-" before stopping himself. Doubt filled his mind for a moment and smothered his confidence at the attempt, but he quickly swept it aside and resolved to try again. He replayed the alien's strange syllables in his mind, grappling with the unfamiliar contours as if they might slip away entirely. He inhaled deeply and cleared his throat with great effort, then slowly and deliberately began to shape each sound to align with his memory of what he'd heard. "Ehtookaretti?", he managed at last, his tone rising instinctively, almost pleading, as if his confusion itself demanded a question.
The unfamiliar word hung in the air as the raptor regarded him, its stillness broken only by the occasional twitch of an ear. Then, suddenly, it let out a bright squeak, hopping in place with enough energy to startle him. Its gaze locked onto his, and it nodded emphatically, its lips lifting into a faint, toothless smile. Both pairs of upper ears twitched in perfect sync, rising and falling as if to punctuate its excitement.
As it danced excitedly, two more of its kind poked their heads in through the tent flap - one stacked nearly atop the other, so the bottom one's ears batted at the upper one's chin. They chirped in harmony, their gazes sweeping across the yurt's interior as they mimicked the searching, ponderous sounds the first one had made moments earlier. They reached a shared determination after several seconds of regard, then pushed their way into the structure proper.
The newcomers resembled the one he'd been interacting with, differing only in the colors of their plumage. One was adorned in snow-white and brick-red feathers with vibrant aquamarine highlights, while the other was cloaked in sky blue with wavy bands of rich green and off-white that crowned its extremities. The dark grey one, his initial companion, stood as the tallest of the group. The red-feathered one was only a few centimeters shorter, while the sky-blue one trailed by a dozen centimeters more, making it the smallest of the trio. Eli found himself mildly shocked by the sheer vibrance of their feathers. The saturated hues contrasted immensely against Grey’s muted, earthy tones which made a part of him wonder what the difference signified.
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Grey let out a bright trill and chirp when it noticed the others, and both reciprocated the friendly sound right away. There was a moment of quiet as they took turns to briefly rub their cheeks against each other, followed by an eruption of cacophonous conversation. Eli didn't even try to parse what they were saying, and instead chose to focus on their body language: he observed their ears shoot up when they heard certain phrases, and flatten behind them as they cast furtive glances at him between sentences. Seeing all of them together, he found himself surprised to find that their faces seemed to express emotions similarly to his own, albeit with much less intensity as smiles and frowns alike remained slight and small.
There was a second moment of quiet as a fourth voice called from outside the tent. Another alien strode inside, roughly the same height as Red, with dusty grey feathers contrasting cream-colored down along its belly and extremities. Over its shoulder was a wide satchel nearly as broad as its torso, which it absentmindedly unclasped and set near the tent flap. It lazily exchanged the same cheek-rubbing greeting with Grey, but froze when it noticed Eli. Its ears pressed against its head as its gaze darted between him and the others, and it took a shaky, hesitant step back.
Red furrowed its brow and spoke first, belting out harsh tones that worried Eli. Was that one angry? What if the others weren't as friendly as Grey? Doubts and worries tumbled through the back of his mind as he forced himself to focus on the escalating exchange between the aliens. He found himself growing tense as their voices grew louder, protectively coiling his legs to his chest against the hostile demeanor. Grey's eyes flitted to him for a brief moment, and recognition flashed across its face. It interrupted Red with a shrill whistle followed by a string of fast-paced but much quieter speech. As it spoke, the other three took furtive glances at him, but always turned away when he made eye contact.
The gesture was clear — Grey seemed to care about his well-being, or at least wanted him to stay well for some reason — but what little solace the interruption offered him was overshadowed by new waves of worry as Eli once again considered escape, or at least resistance. Thoughts of fighting back were fleeting — their claws and teeth might rip him apart in seconds, and even if he managed to fend them off and run, he'd likely bleed out in the cold. He worked his jaw nervously as a cold feeling radiated from the pit of his stomach. He felt trapped — no escape, no good options. A new spiral of anxiety welled at the realization before reflex kicked in, a practiced calm settling over him as he forced himself to draw even, measured breaths.
When Eli refocused, the conversation had shifted into hushed tones, their movements subdued but deliberate. He turned his attention back to analyzing their movements, seeking distraction from his gnawing unease. Red dominated the exchange with a flaring temper, scratching shallow furrows into the dirt out of frustration. Cream, no longer fearful but still uncertain, nodded along to Grey's words while occasionally provoking Red's ire. Sky kept its gaze averted, speaking only in brief bursts during lulls in the discussion, each time prompting a new burst of conversation. Grey, calm but assertive, seemed to be steering the discussion, silencing outbursts with a sharp whistle or a firm word. Yet even Grey betrayed moments of excitement — a sudden trill, a quick hop — followed by an almost sheepish folding of its ears as it cast another glance toward Eli, as if to reassure itself he hadn't cracked.
The exchange reached its peak when Red snapped a loud, tense phrase at Grey, its sharp voice cutting through the muted conversation. Grey kept still, answering with a calm yet clipped response as its tail flicked sharply in irritation. Red seemed to deflate at Grey's words. Its anger crumbled, leaving an expression Eli couldn't place — something between frustration and resolve.
Then, Red turned to him. Its feathers bristled, its brow furrowed, and it moved closer with measured, deliberate steps. Its arms remained crossed, wings half-shielding its chest as if to fortify itself. "Still angry," Eli thought, pulse hammering as he reflexively drew his knees to his chest, primed to lash out if it came any closer. His mind raced as he weighed his options. Passivity gnawed at him like poison, and doing nothing felt like surrender. He was still bound and defenseless — a kick might buy him a moment, but at what cost? Eli wracked his brain as Red bore down on him, ready to choose anything over paralysis, even if the choice felt blind.
He grasped at the memory of his exchange with Grey, the strange word he had spoken that seemed to please it. Was it a greeting? A gesture of trust? He didn't know, but in this moment of uncertainty, it was the only weapon in his arsenal — not sharp, but perhaps enough to disarm. Steadying his breath, he nodded slowly, before resolutely repeating the word: "Ehtookaretti."
The sound hung in the air, a fragile offering no doubt butchered by his pronunciation. Red stopped mid-step, narrowing its eyes as if weighing his response. Seconds stretched into eternity as its ears twitched and its feathers slowly settled. The tension in its stance eased, arms unfolding until they hung loosely at its sides. Its tail swayed in faint, measured arcs. Eli let out a shaky breath, realizing only then how tightly his chest had constricted. He hoped that had done it, that whatever he'd said had placated it.
His heart jolted as Red stepped closer, unhurried with its piercing gaze fixed on his face. He tensed as a clawed hand darted toward him, instinctively squeezing his eyes shut, expecting pain. Then, remembering Grey's slow blink, he forced himself to keep them closed, hoping to mirror whatever gesture of trust it might have been. The cold, smooth touch of claws brushed his wrists, and he flinched — only to feel the pressure of his bindings slacken and then vanish. The ropes slipped away, and his eyes flew open, staring in stunned silence. He held his freed hands near his face, unsure whether to defend himself or simply accept the unexpected mercy.
He sat in tense silence for a moment as he braced for the unknown. He didn't have to wait long, though; Grey released a high-pitched trill and bounded over, its energy infectious, the excitement in its movements impossible to ignore. It stopped beside Red and extended its clawed palm toward Eli, the gesture so deliberate it could only be an offer of assistance. His heart beat in his chest, swelling with a mix of unexpected hope and disbelief as Red mirrored the motion, their unified intent unmistakable. Wariness lurked beneath his astonishment, but he cast both aside and gently placed his hands in theirs. Their hands were smaller than he expected, feathered and fragile in his grip. As he expected, they leaned back, tugging gently — they were too light to pull him up on their own, but the effort was clear.
Rising unsteadily, Eli groaned as his muscles protested the movement, his body still sore from his long walk and subsequent captivity. The yurt's low ceiling forced him to hunch slightly — his head brushed against the taut fabric as he stood. Before he could fully take stock of his new vantage, the aliens crowded closer with newly unrestrained curiosity. Grey chirped brightly as it inspected his arm, its claws lightly tracing the contours of his muscles. Red studied his hair with a wary intensity, as though trying to decide if it was part of him or some removable feature. Cream, more deliberate, manipulated each of his finger joints with touches so gentle it felt almost reverent. Then there was Sky, whose boldness bordered on intrusive. Without hesitation it pushed its head beneath his shirt, claws tugging insistently at his belt as though wanting to disassemble him.
Eli's mind began to race anew at the unwelcome intrusion. Would resistance offend them? Would compliance encourage them further? He quickly opted for a middle ground, moving with deliberate care to place a firm hand against Sky's chest. It stumbled back a half-step with a soft squeak, its downy chest compressing briefly under Eli's hand. The sound cut through the flurry of activity; the other three froze, their sharp gazes shifting to Sky with immediate attentiveness. Eli held his breath, heart hammering anxiously, unsure whether he had crossed some unspoken boundary. Sky didn't bristle or retreat, however. Instead, it tilted its head in a gesture that seemed like innocent confusion, its eyes looking up at his unblinkingly as it chirruped softly. Then, with a slow, deliberate step forward, it leaned in and pressed its cheek against his still-outstretched palm, the motion gentle and almost affectionate.
Eli hesitated as his mind raced to interpret the gesture. He recalled the way they greeted each other earlier, rubbing cheeks in what appeared to be a social ritual. He thought it might have been a lesser expression of trust, or perhaps forgiveness, but the prospect of making a poor assumption gave him pause. Reluctance felt to him like the wrong answer, though, so he simply kept his hand steady and let the moment pass. Whatever significance the act held, it seemed to satisfy the group; they exchanged brief glances, eased their alert, and returned to their individual explorations as if the interaction had settled an unspoken question.
He exhaled softly, relief washing over him as Sky shifted its attention back to his torso. It resumed its inspection with curious but restrained motions, implicitly acknowledging the boundary he'd set by keeping its claws clear of his belt. His shoulders sagged with fatigue from holding still under their scrutiny, but he resisted the urge to pull away, determined not to disrupt the fragile peace. As the moment stretched on he found himself grappling with unease: were these genuine gestures of goodwill, or was their interest purely clinical, born of curiosity for a strange new creature? The question gnawed at the edges of his mind, pulling a rift between his self-preservation instincts and a tentative hope that he might bridge the gulf between him and what he hoped could be new friends.
A low, insistent rumble from his stomach broke the fragile quiet, loud enough to make Eli wince. His gaze darted nervously to the aliens, dread bubbling at the thought they might mistake the bodily sound for a real growl of hostility. For a heartbeat, none of them moved — then Grey's ears twitched, and its head tilted suddenly in what seemed like a moment of realization. Almost as if in answer, Sky's stomach growled next, followed by Cream's, each sound cascading through the group. The tension evaporated in an instant, replaced by a flurry of chirps and trills.
Their eagerness was palpable as they left his side to scurry towards the storage area of the yurt and rustle through its various containers. Grey hopped in place and gestured toward the brazier at the center of the yurt, its tail sweeping in exaggerated arcs as if to emphasize its excitement. The others quickly paused to repeat the motions at him; the gestures struck Eli as both practical and ritualistic. It didn't take long for him to realize their intent — cooking. They were going to feed him. Relief mingled with caution in his mind as he watched them scurry about, exchanging rapid bursts of sound, each move imbued with a sense of purpose. Whatever lay ahead, Eli knew this was more than a meal—it was an invitation.
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image [https://cdn.foxy.art/AvaliRefBust.png]