After their initial shock wore off, everyone settled down to eat. Eli had no clue if his cooking met their standards, but judging by how eagerly Oreo and Folly scarfed down their portions it must have been acceptable. Their eating ritual, he had come to notice, usually involved eating together in silence, followed by unwinding over some focusing tea. He sat cross-legged on the blanket with them, and listened to their quiet chirps of conversation.
As he watched them converse, Eli couldn't help but notice how ragged they all looked — even Folly, despite being as injured as he was, had gone out earlier to help the others. Now, he seemed so tired he struggled to lift his cup all the way to his lips. Suda and Tia sat together, carefully picking flecks of dried blood and sinew from each other's plumage. Even Oreo, who was usually in constant motion, simply sat and sipped his drink with the stillness of bone-deep fatigue.
At one point, Eli noticed Folly pause mid-sip at something Tia said. The bright red raptor slowly, deliberately lowered his drink as a sardonic smile began to creep onto his face. Tia seemed confused, until she saw his expression and subsequently let out an indignant squeak. She bolted to her feet, much to Suda's surprise, and stomped toward Eli, eyes narrowed and tail twitching as if to broadcast her irritation to any and all around.
Eli held his breath as she eyed him up and down. She leaned into him, as if appraising something, the tension between them growing steadily with each passing moment. Eli braced himself, uncertain what was about to happen — until, with a swift and unexpected movement, she spun on her heel and dropped herself unceremoniously into his lap.
"Woah! Uh..." Eli sputtered, his voice rising involuntarily with surprise before he caught himself, lowering his tone to avoid causing a scene… not that it mattered. A quick glance at the others revealed their expressions mirrored his own: shock, amusement, and disbelief all rolled into one. Tia let out a smug chirp, prompting Folly to turn his head away from the sight, feathers ruffled, and mumble something incoherent. Suda raised her wing to cover her mouth as she chuckled quietly at the sight while Tia craned her neck up to look at Eli with a wiry, self-satisfied grin.
Eli shifted uneasily, the unfamiliar contact leaving him flustered. He reached down tentatively, trying to find a grip on her amidst the riot of feathers that seemed to envelop her. She was surprisingly light, far lighter than her size would suggest, but her plumage — thick, soft, and impossibly abundant — made it a challenge to locate anything solid beneath the fluff.
When his hands finally found her waist, he curled his fingers gently around it, attempting to lift her off. He hoped she'd get the hint and leave on her own accord before he had to force the issue. To his chagrin, she only pressed her clawed hands over his, pinning them in place with a silent but unmistakable message: she wasn't moving.
"Dammit..." thought Eli to himself apprehensively. She didn't seem inclined to let go, and the last thing he wanted was to ruin what little camaraderie he had built with the group. Resigned, he let out a quiet sigh and decided to bear it. It wasn't entirely unpleasant, he admitted begrudgingly; the yurt was cold this late at night, even with the brazier's dull warmth, and her feathers were not only warm but also luxuriantly soft.
His thoughts returned to the gathering when Suda clicked her talons sharply to reclaim the focus of the group. The four exchanged a brief flurry of words before Suda rose and approached Eli, still stifling a smile. She pointed to the packed dirt just next to them, and began speaking as she scratched some pictures into the ground. Eli couldn't make heads or tails of it at first, but he was more than willing to put his mind to it — especially since it helped distract him from his uncomfortably intimate proximity to Tia on his lap.
He leaned forward, eager to distract himself from the fluffy creature in his grasp, and studied the drawings with as much focus as he could muster. The images were rough, almost childlike in execution, but after several attempts and some animated gestures from Suda, the meaning began to take shape: more often than not, the group struggled to bring an entire carcass back to their camp in one trip. Their smaller statures made such tasks almost impossible, and scavengers — whatever they were, Eli couldn't decipher Suda's sketchy depiction of them — often claimed the remains before a second trip could be made. This meant the group typically managed to recover only scraps: pieces of hide, scattered bones, or fragments of meat from their kills.
Oreo suddenly perked up, his feathers puffing slightly as he joined in with emphatic gestures of his own as he jumped in to try and help explain. His excitement seemed to do more harm to Eli's understanding than good, but it wasn't enough to mask their intent from him: the retrieval of an entire kill — every part of it intact — was no small thing. Judging by the way Oreo's enthusiasm bubbled over, it was akin to dropping a fortune at their feet.
After calming Oreo enough to regain control of the conversation, Suda moved on and continued her laborious pictorial process, explaining that they were planning on journeying to some distant gathering of their kind. A village, perhaps, or a town — a place to sell and trade the spoils of their hunt. Eli nodded along, his mind so wrapped in the explanation that he didn't realize his hands had begun to absently knead the soft fluff in his grasp, fingers working over Tia's side as he pushed through the puzzle Suda was presenting to him.
It was only when Tia began trilling a low, rumbling note that Eli's attention shifted. He turned away from Suda's diagrams to find Tia with her head tilted back, a faint smile playing on her lips. She had her ears pressed flat against her head, and her eyes were pressed shut in bliss as he gently massaged her midriff.
"Gah, sorry!" he blurted, barely managing to suppress a shout as he pulled his hands away with a jerk. Tia opened her eyes with a quiet squeak and looked at him, puzzled. Then, with an indignant chirp, she reached for his wrists, guiding his hands back around her waist. "Pùuuuuuuh~", she murmured lazily. "Staaaaaay~", he understood.
Eli's mind caught on the form of the word, still partially fixated on deciphering what they were trying to tell him. The word stretched out, drawn out in a way that felt different from how Suda and Folly had said it before. "It's different," Eli thought as some part of his mind remained focused on decoding their enigmatic communication. "Maybe she's asking, not telling?" He couldn't be sure, but one thing was clear — she definitely wanted him to keep touching her, and the thought unnerved him.
He cast a nervous glance at Suda, who already seemed to have intuited his discomfort. She spoke a short phrase, her tone gentle, though Eli couldn't shake the feeling there was an edge of admonishment in her words when Tia flicked her tail into his face, clearly irritated. Her gaze darted between Eli and Suda, ears swiveling against her skull as she seemed to consider what she'd been told. After a tense moment, she released his wrists with a huff and stood, indignant, before stalking off to the far side of the yurt, towards the sleeping-furs. She curled up on them with a small, musical huff, clearly displeased.
Folly began to chuckle, but quickly silenced himself once he saw Oreo and Suda's expressions. After a brief exchange of hushed words, they moved toward the furs, gently gesturing for Eli to join them. Their invitation was far from urgent: only a calm, wordless reassurance that he was still welcome to sleep alongside them.
Despite his logical interpretation of their invitation, Eli couldn't help but feel his chest tighten with unease. He wanted to follow, but the situation's unknowns held him still. Was something wrong? Had he done something to upset them? The others, however, seemed determined to welcome him to rest, leaving Tia to sulk in her corner of the bed of furs. He let out a slow, steadying breath. Lingering on it wasn't going to help, and so he chose to center his thoughts on the invitation. It would be okay, he reassured himself, even though the thought was more hope than certainty.
After a moment's hesitation, he followed and eased himself down onto the furs. The other three quickly but carefully curled up in a cluster near him, positioning themselves just far enough away that not a tail or wing brushed against his skin. The deliberate distance didn't go unnoticed, and Eli wondered if it was their way of ensuring they wouldn't inadvertently offend him further. It did little to calm his racing thoughts, but he knew, deep down, they were trying to comfort him. Still, the weight of the misunderstanding lingered, coiling in his gut as he lay among them, the quiet pull of sleep at odds with the worry twisting in his mind.
Eli couldn't gauge how much time had passed, but as the firelight from the brazier dimmed to embers, he was roused by the soft rustling of feathers on the far side of the fur bed. Tia sat up, rubbing her eyes, then wiggling her ears before standing and padding over toward the group. Their eyes met as she drew near, and she froze, flattening her ears against her skull.
Neither moved. The stillness between them stretched on as they simply stared at one another. Her wide, dark eyes shimmered in the dim ember-light, reflecting a guarded tension that seemed almost fearful. He wracked his brain thinking of what to say before his thoughts began to spiral. Why did he care so much about her reaction? About any of this? These creatures — these raptors — had saved him, yes, but wasn't that just luck? Their struggles, their survival, their strange world... none of it had anything to do with him. They weren't his people. Their strife was their own. So why did her tension bother him? Why did the thought of her discomfort sit just as heavily in his chest as his own?
"I can't leave", he thought. The realization hit him like a blade upon his skin, cutting through the haze of his thoughts. These aliens barely had metal tools, forget radios and computers. He had no way to signal for help, no way to call home. He was stranded, marooned on a planet he didn't understand, with beings so alien yet eerily, painfully familiar. This planet was vast, cold, and merciless, and here in this fragile circle of warmth these strangers had taken him in. They had shared their fire, their food, their care. They had treated him like one of their own.
The weight of it all bore down on him. Without them, he would've frozen, starved, or worse. The thought of how close he had come to that fate was enough to make his stomach churn. He realized, with a clarity that made him wince, just how lucky he was. These beings, strange as they were, had given him a chance.
He looked up at Tia again. Her ears twitched subtly, and her wings shifted with unease. He saw it in her posture — the wariness, the subtle unease — as if she were waiting for something from him, something she couldn't quite place. He recognized the feeling in himself at that very moment. She was uncertain, perhaps even afraid of what he might do or say next. In that moment, he made a decision — if they were going to try and bridge the gap to him, he would swallow his discomfort and try to meet them where they stood as well.
Eli took a deep breath, forcing himself to push past the knot in his chest. He lifted his hand, slow and deliberate, careful not to make any sudden moves that might startle her. His fingers waved through the air for a moment, a silent invitation. "Etooohkaretti," he whispered, the word still strange and foreign on his tongue, yet spoken with quiet conviction.
Her response was immediate — her ears flicked up, and her gaze sharpened. She blinked, her posture shifting slightly, and then, with a soft, breathless whisper, she echoed the word. Her voice trembled, seemingly caught between hesitation and hope, but there was a fragile warmth in her tone. She understood.
A faint ripple of relief coursed through Eli. He remained still as Tia began to move, each step measured and tentative, her own worry mixing with his in the space between them as she approached. When she stopped, she crouched before him, close enough that only a sliver of air separated them, her gaze still cautious but open. Eli made a careful motion, patting the furs beside him with a slow, steady hand. It was a simple gesture, but it was the best he could offer — a sign that he, too, was willing to trust.
Tia hesitated for a long moment, as though considering the invitation. Then, with a quiet shift of her weight, she lowered herself, settling down beside him, her body just a breath away from his. The stillness between them was thick, but in that moment, Eli felt that knot inside him loosen, just a little bit. The silence stretched on, but it was no longer uncomfortable. Tia exhaled softly, her form sinking into the furs, and with it, Eli's remaining tension slipped away as sleep quietly claimed them both.
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The following days blurred into a whirlwind of structured activity. The prospect of visiting town clearly energized them, their excitement manifesting in every brisk movement and coordinated effort. Eli found himself swept along amidst the flurry, his new companions guiding him through the increasingly foreign work.
Each task he was involved in seemed to double as an opportunity for instruction, not just in the survival skills of this foreign way of life, but in their language. Suda's voice was steady and deliberate as she pointed to the tools or materials they used, naming them one by one. She tapped the earthenware pots they used to soak the hide, repeating the word until he could mimic it. Tia gestured toward the fibrous twine as they worked together to tie it into knots, repeating the alien equivalent of "tie" or "pull." Folly often corrected his clumsier attempts with a low chitter of amusement but still patiently repeated key terms like "good" and "bad" until Eli grasped their meaning. Oreo, of course, turned everything into a game, naming objects with exuberant chirps and squeaks until Eli couldn't help but laugh along with him.
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The leather took days to prepare, each stage somehow slower and more painstaking than the last. When at last it was ready, Suda took the opportunity to introduce Eli to the delicate craft of leatherworking. She guided his hands carefully, showing him how to push the bone needle through the thick, pliable material, then pull the thread taut. They sat together for hours, meticulously bundling the group's own shed down between layers of leather.
When they weren't working on their craft, the group taught him other practical skills. Folly, despite his injury, insisted on showing Eli how to cap and seal their containers, ensuring the salted meat they packed for the journey would stay preserved. Tia taught him how to portion out their trail rations — measured carefully, wrapped tightly in cloth, and secured with twine. She repeated the word for "wrap" until it became second nature for him to say it back. Oreo, ever the ball of energy, delighted in teaching him knots, demonstrating the loops and twists with his usual flair, naming each knot as he worked.
All the while, they sprinkled their lessons with deceptively simple phrases — yes and no, give and take — repeating them until Eli could string together rudimentary responses. They seemed delighted each time he used their words correctly, and their encouragement, though subtle, pushed him to keep trying. Slowly, the words became less foreign, more familiar, until that singular phrase — "Ehtookaretti" — emerged once again, plucked from the midst of his confusion. It was a question, he learned: "Are you a friend?" Tia took special care to teach him that word, guiding him through the exact way to pronounce it, to offer it not just as a question but as a declaration of trust. He could feel the language sinking in with each passing day, despite how rudimentary his understanding remained.
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Eli huffed with exertion as he wrestled yet another newly sealed container out from the shelter's interior. Under Suda and Folly's direction, they had packed, stacked, and organized for well over a week. Each piece had been carefully accounted for, but Eli still couldn't fathom the logistics of it all — how exactly they were going to move everything in one go. There was something methodical in their haste, but the intricacies of the plan eluded him. Even as he worked at stitching pieces of leather together under Suda's skilled guidance, he had assumed it was simply part of the process to refine their raw materials, to craft something of greater value for the trip. It never occurred to him that the work might be meant for him — not until that day when Suda stood before him, a length of twine gripped firmly in her talons, and gestured for him to sit.
"Measure," she said, tapping her talon against his arm and then the twine.
Eli blinked at her, confused by the sudden request, and hesitated as he looked between the twine and her expectant expression. Puzzled, he sat, waiting for Suda to explain further. No explanation came, though; she stepped closer and stretched the twine across his shoulder and down the length of his arm, clicking softly under her breath. She deftly marked the twine where it reached his wrist, then pulled it back to his chest, measuring from collar to waist. She muttered a few words to herself, ones he couldn't fully understand but had begun to recognize as numbers.
Eli stood still, his brows knitting slightly as he tried to piece it together. Measuring? For what? His gaze dropped to the leather draped across the yurt floor, neatly stitched in sections, and the tools scattered about. The others had been so focused on the hide — scraping, soaking, stretching, stitching — he'd worked on the pieces without question, stitching under Suda's watchful eye, fumbling his way through the motions as she taught him.
But why measure him?
Suda moved around him now, holding the twine against his back, each click of her claws punctuating her concentration as she tapped the small of his spine and then his shoulders. Eli's thoughts crowded him, understanding beginning to take shape but refusing to fully form. His mind returned to his memories of long hours spent sewing, the careful way Suda had shown him how to shape the stretches of leather, how Tia had tested the material's strength by pulling at it with her claws. It hadn't seemed odd at the time, just another task in the whirlwind of work. But now...
His gaze lifted to Suda as she prompted him to stand up, eagerly but gently pushing on his back as he rose to his feet. She proceeded to measure the length of his leg, her talons brushing the fabric of his worn overalls. Behind her, the others watched, their ears twitching with a kind of anticipation. Oreo, unable to contain himself, let out a soft chirp of excitement, earning a flick of Folly's tail to silence him. The tension in the room wasn't heavy, but it was palpable, like a collective secret they were all in on… except for him.
Eli's lips parted slightly as the realization began to settle in. They weren't making something for the village. They weren't just teaching him for the sake of it. The pieces of leather, the endless stitching, the careful attention to detail — it wasn't for trade. It was for him.
Suda straightened, her sharp eyes meeting his, and clicked her claws to signal the end of her measurements. "Good," she said simply.
His chest tightened and his breath hitched in his throat. For the last week, he'd contented himself with simply being accepted, enjoying the odd sense of companionship as an anchor against the loss of his home, and his people. But they'd prepared all of this for him, not out of obligation, not as a means to an end, but as an act of care. They wanted him to be warm, to be safe. He hadn't asked for it, hadn't expected it, but they had done it anyway.
Eli swallowed hard, his throat suddenly dry, and looked at Suda, who had already turned away to jot something into the dirt with her claw. The others quickly busied themselves again, but there was a lightness to their movements now, as though the moment had passed and the weight had shifted. Eli's attention dropped to the leather on the floor, the stitches he'd clumsily worked into place, and he found himself swallowing a deep discomfort — not one of fear or uncertainty, but something closer to gratitude, raw and unfamiliar.
Suda retreated to the back of the Yurt to continue working on the coat — his coat — alone. For a moment, Eli felt out of place again, an observer on the edge of something sacred. He turned his focus to his hands, cut and rough from weeks of work. The young calluses were hard-won — each scrape and cut a reminder of his awkward integration into their way of life. He thought back to his first day there, how alien and guarded it all felt. That hesitation had faded quickly, though, hadn't it? Or was he only realizing that now?
Eli stepped to the side, settling himself near the glow of the fire in the center of the yurt. The others spoke softly among themselves as they worked, their voices lilting in tones he still didn't fully understand, but he didn't feel excluded. Instead, their chatter washed over him, a tangible reminder of the strange, but happy, camaraderie they'd built.
He traced a finger along one of the scraps of leather still on the ground, his thumb catching on the edges where it was uneven. It wasn't his stitching — he could tell by the clean uniformity — but it reminded him of his earlier clumsy attempts to contribute. He winced at the thought of how much they'd had to redo because of his mistakes, but the memory was undoubtedly a happy one, infused with simple comfort. They had never chastised him, not once. Even Suda, sharp-tongued and unyielding in her critiques, had only guided him back to the work with patient insistence.
Movement near the back of the yurt caught his eye as he worked through his thoughts. Suda was leaning close to the leather of the coat, inspecting a seam under the flickering light. Tia had joined her, holding something out — a large, cream-colored feather. Eli tilted his head, curiosity tugging at him, but he stayed where he was. The fire crackled softly, the warmth wrapping around him like an old, familiar comfort. One by one, he saw each of the others approach and contribute their own large feathers to Suda's mysterious task.
When she finally straightened and looked toward him once again, Eli's pulse quickened. She said something — a short phrase, clipped but not unkind — and the others began to gather once again. He took a step back, suddenly unsure of where to stand, where to look. His fingers flexed at his sides, his palms dry but buzzing with a nervous energy he still couldn't quite place.
Tia approached first, her arms straining as she lifted the heavy coat. She gripped it with care, as though it were fragile despite its sturdy construction. Suda stayed behind, watching intently with both wings folded over her chest. The other two had gathered loosely around them, their expressions a mixture of quiet pride and something warmer, softer.
"This." Tia said, deliberately choosing words she knew he could understand, "Yours."
Eli stared at the coat for a moment, transfixed by the prospect of this gift that seemed to transcend material worth. He took it hesitantly, reverently, and held it out at arms length to inspect. It clearly wasn't made after any human style; the outer layer was a vast conical drape of supple, dark grey leather, the texture somewhere between polished hide and finely brushed suede. It stretched just barely to his ankles, flaring wide at the bottom to allow for movement. It was heavier than he expected, padded with down that lent it both warmth and an unexpected softness.
"They packed it with their own down…" he recalled as he turned it around in his grip and tried to figure out how to put it on.
Oreo danced in place, brimming with joy as Eli manipulated the garment. It opened vertically, splitting cleanly from the collar to the hem in a seam that was fastened by an overlapping fold secured just above his left shoulder. A wooden clasp held it in place — simple and functional, yet carved with subtle, meticulous patterns. Attached inside was a smaller, half-length drape of similar leather, fitted with well-placed arm-holes.
He slipped the unfamiliar ensemble over his head and slid his arms into the inner layer before drawing the outer layer around his shoulders. As he dressed, he realized the coat's design allowed for easy adjustments — a quick reach through the front opening to grab tools, or the ability to shrug it loose without fully removing it. He marveled at the care and intent put into the design, built to shield him from the elements while helping him ease into their way of life.
The high collar rose stiffly around him as he pulled the overlayer around him, framing his face and protecting his neck from the chill. Its edges were reinforced with small, intricate stitches that he recognized from his own early attempts at the craft. Eli ran a hand over the surface, feeling the resilience of the leather, the softness of the down beneath, and the craftsmanship in every line and seam. It wasn't a coat in the sense he knew, but rather a testament — to their skill, to their care, and to the growing place he held among them.
As Eli stood, momentarily lost in his thoughts as he inspected the gift's craftsmanship, he barely noticed the shift in the air as Folly approached and tugged at the outside of his coat, pulling him down to kneel. Eli blinked in surprise, unsure of what was happening, but obliged and lowered to his knees to make himself more accessible.
Folly's gaze was intense, almost fervent, as he moved to the front of Eli's coat. He revealed something concealed in his palm, and Eli caught the sight of feathers — four of them, tied together with a thick thread. There was a dark grey one, subtly banded with blue, from Suda. A rich red one, tipped with the faintest white, from himself. A sky-blue and aquamarine one from Oreo, and a cream-colored one from Tia.
Without a word, Folly began to tug at the new coat, clumsily working a bone needle between his claws to attach the ornament to Eli's collar. His brow furrowed as he struggled, the thread slipping between his fingers, and a frustrated huff escaped him. Eli watched the struggle with mild amusement, but waited patiently nonetheless.
Folly muttered under his breath, his voice singing frustration under each word. He fumbled again, clearly trying to be delicate with the leather but struggling with the skill needed to sew the feathers into place.
Suda, witnessing Folly's growing frustration, could no longer contain her amusement. She let out a rare laugh — bright and unrestrained, the sound rich and musical in the quiet of the yurt. "Folly," she called, stepping forward, her voice filled with teasing warmth, "I try."
Without waiting for a response, Suda positioned herself before Eli, her claws moving deftly as she took over the task. The feathers were sewn in quickly, each stitch clean and precise, each movement efficient and confident. Folly stepped back, his face flushed with embarrassment, though there was a hint of fondness in his eyes.
"Good," Suda said, her tone warm, still wearing a bright, toothless smile. She ran her claws along the stitching, adjusting one of the feathers to sit just right.
Folly gave Eli a final, shy glance, his earlier frustration melting into something quieter — satisfaction, perhaps, or pride. Eli ran a finger along the new addition, feeling the feathers against the leather. There was something deeply symbolic about it, the way each feather represented not just the group, but his place among them.
He remained on one knee, his hands trembling as they hovered over the feathers stitched into his collar. The sheer weight of the moment bore down on him, a collision of emotions he hadn't been prepared to face. The craftsmanship of the coat alone had been overwhelming enough, a tangible token of the group's care. But this... the feathers... they were more than adornments; they were pieces of themselves, a mark of trust, of belonging. They had made this for him, a stranger, an outsider who had stumbled into their lives; telling him, unmistakably, "you are one of us".
The tears came before he realized it; a hot, silent trickle falling down his cheeks that blurred the edges of his vision. He fought to maintain his composure, but the knot in his chest unraveled all at once. A quiet sob escaped his lips, and his shoulders shook as the flood broke free. The release was raw, a purge of fear, of tension, of the gnawing loneliness he hadn't dared to name. For days, he'd desperately ignored the truth — that he was lost, stranded in both time and space, and that everything he had known was gone. Now, he could no longer hold back the torrent of emotions that surged forward. He lowered his head, his fingers curling into the leather of the coat as he wept, his breath hitching in broken gasps. He felt fragile, exposed, but the weight lifting from his chest was undeniable.
At first, the others stayed still, watching in silence. Then, slowly, Suda moved. She approached him with deliberate steps, her talons clicking softly against the earth. She crouched beside him and laid a clawed hand gently on his shoulder. Tia followed, her tail brushing lightly against his arm as she curled beside him, her expression full of familiar softness. Folly came next, crouching on Eli's other side, his head tilted as if unsure how to proceed but unwilling to stay apart. Finally, Oreo stepped forward with uncharacteristic quiet, tucking himself against Eli's back, one wing draping loosely across Eli's shoulders.
The four pressed close, surrounding him in a silent embrace. Eli felt their warmth, their feathers brushing against his clothing, the soft weight of their touch grounding him as his sobs began to subside. None of them spoke, yet their presence said everything.
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image [https://cdn.foxy.art/AvaliCoat.png]