Nipping it at the Bud
1st of Spring 510 A.V.
The First time she saw Caiyha Tin was Seven. She remembered the moment as if it had transpired just a tick before, and recalled it now as she sat in the crook of a tree, looking out across the shaded scope of fauna stretched out like mossy snakes before her.
It was the words that came first.“Get out of my sight, snake!” In retrospect it was very little of an insult, her mother threw them with much more venom, but it was the pangs of having your siblings see you as a freak that really tore at the young mixed blood. They tittered and giggled at her distress, dark eyes filled with the lack of feelings they had for the half breed they happened to be related to. The feeling of betrayal mixed with the unconcerned gaze of her own maternal figure, who barely deigned to throw an almost pitying glance her way that sent the girl sprinting into the forest as if a Myrian Tiger was chasing her. Her younger brother, who would grow to be her closest confidant, was still a babe in swaddling cloth, and no solace could be taken from him, so Tin took to making friends with the wildlife. Of course her mother abhorred snakes and vermin, and refused to let her daughter even show her one, let alone keep a pet in the lodge, so Tinnok of the Tempered Steel made due with beetles, spiders, moths, and butterflies, stowing them away where her older sisters would tear their wings and squash them in malice, feeding them leaves and taking them out into the woods to release them after a short time. Some of her most precious memories lay in watching long proboscises suck up nectar from flowers she had fetched, and the comforting prickle of rough insect feet over her skin as a beetle or caterpillar curiously probed about a new landscape: Pathetic really.
She recalled how full of life and light the wooded area seemed to be. The thrum of insects was nearly drowning, and toucans, jays, thrushes, wood creepers, and flycatchers seemed to create a blanket of feathers as they flew away before her. She barely noticed them, in hindsight, vision blurred by tears she knew she shouldn’t shed, which only caused her to expel more in rage. She practically ran into the massive strangler fig that blocked her way, long tendrils wrapping in neat patterns around the host tree it would slowly suffocate and consume. She liked the figs, not because of their nature, to slowly latch on and kill, but because they were one of the few trees that could be climbed with ease because of all the hand and foot holds, and climb she did. She curled into a ball in a crook between a twisting vine and the dying tree, and the sorrow of that inevitable state was mirrored in her own sadness. The tears dried rather swiftly, a Myrian, half breed or no learned to curb such actions from a young age, but the feeling in the pit of her stomach remained. She must have slept, for Syna had shifted in the sky when her head rose from its downward angle and looked up and across the branch.
And there it sat. A glorious bird that Tin would later come to know as a Quetzal. Of course this bird was not like others of its kind. For one thing it was in the entirely wrong region, though of course Tinnok did not know that at the time, for another it did not have the emerald feathers and scarlet and white stomach of its fellows, but sapphire down and lavender feathers with an almost silver sheen on its breast. Like a hummingbird every twist and turn in the light reflected a new color scheme, and when the bird’s gaze met hers she could feel the power and intent behind it. She did not cry now, but felt as if she should. It seemed as if the only correct response was to bow in supplication and reverence of this clearly celestial being that perched before her, surrounded by a harem of other birds and creatures. Tin opened her mouth to speak, but no words would leave her throat, and she could almost feel the creature smile as it observed with obsidian eyes. Then, all too soon is spread its wings and soared away. Though her brother, Rarik, one of the few people she has shared the story with believes it was only an emissary of the Goddess, Tinnok always knew the truth, that somehow Caiyha had known just the time to give her a sliver of hope to carry on, and carry on the Mixed Blood had.
It was in a copse much like that one that her hut had been constructed, and it was considerably easier to climb figs like this now that she was older and more coordinated, the perfect place to think with only the comforting sounds of the forests surrounding her. Tin spat, the globule of saliva sailing downwards toward the soil. While the trip down memory trail had been nice, she had hunting to do, and a lodge to feed. The Mixed Blood straightened a bit from her position, sitting up in preparation of the downward climb when she heard the sound of approaching footsteps. It would be just like her clan to traipse about the forest with no heed for stealth and quiet. Upon closer scrutiny of the approaching individuals, however, she noted that they were not among hers…sacks were slung over their backs, and the two of them seemed to be gloating over something. She saw a flash of color and her eyes narrowed. Tinnok was a creature of observation and quiet. She enjoyed death and the treasures it brought, but liked it on her terms alone. Climbing down the tree so that it blocked her from view she carefully lowered herself to the ground, landing in a crouched position that made little to no noise on the cleared moist earth. She rose and crept behind her quarry, who were loud and stupid enough not to turn around as she took long, yet careful strides in order to gain the distance between them.
There is always a point when sneaking directly behind an individual when they are bound to see, hear, or simply feel the presence of another behind them. In order to beat her quarry to the punch as it were, she straightened, unslinging her longbow and keeping it by her side as she let out a warbling whistle of a tufted flycatcher, a rather peaceful expression. It didn’t actually mean anything in the Myrian vocalized form of communication, but it was enough to get the attention of those in front of her. The two men whirled instantly to face her, and she realized they were relatively young. Their expressions changed from shock to seriousness as Tin closed the distance between them, gesturing to the sacks. “A day’s hunting?”
There was one with elaborate tattoos on his shaven head. He grinned a sharp toothed grin and held up the dead thing in his hand. It was a scarlet macaw, it’s brilliant red feathers strained with a deep crimson of a messy shot, head lolling lifelessly to the side. “A day of hunting indeed, we found these blighters more than a few days walk from here. Thought our trip was for naught till we found…a colony?” He glanced to his partner for confirmation and the other one shrugged, a dark skull crawling up his neck. The other one, clearly the chattier of the two, still had that smile on his face, “Well, whatever it was, colony or not, it’s gone now.”
Tinnok’s eyes widened for a moment, and then returned to their normal state. Her hand dropped to her waste. “You mean to tell me that you managed to fill both of those bags with those creatures?” They were large bags, just the idea of it made her stomach feel a bit ill. The silent one gave a curt nod. Her eyes closed for a moment. “There must have been nests with young, what did you do with those?”
“We cooked up the eggs or the ugly featherless babes for dinner a couple nights ago, tasty buggers.”
“…And what exactly are you going to do with them, seeing as how I notice you didn’t keep any alive to sell as pets?”
The silent one opened his mouth. “Our sister owns a fletching shop. This was a hunting trip, but we knew she could sell her arrows for more with feathers like these.”
“And you didn’t think to just take a few?”
“There’s barely twenty, here.” Anger crept into the stoic one’s words as if that number were small, and Tinnok took a purposeful step forward, her stance tightening, her anger getting the best of her.
One thing she could appreciate, even if her mother seemed to revile her, was that her presence as a woman filled with fury still had an inherent effect on men. Both of them took an unconscious step back before holding their ground as Tinnok began to speak. “Have you ever seen this bird in Taloba outside of the stalls?” Two heads shook in unison. “Do you even know why you’ve never seen this bird in Taloba outside of captivity?” Again they shook their heads, Truth be told Tinnok herself had never seen the scarlet variety of macaws outside of the animal stalls of Taloba either, and that her first sight of free birds had to be the limp and lifeless corpse still hanging in her brethren’s hand sent another hot pulsation of rage throughout her being. “Because it has been killed for its feathers and sold as pets for our brethren, or pompous little shyke heads outside of Falyndar that think it cute to have an exotic bird as a pet. So what do you do with the first one’s you see in the wild? Kill them for their feathers? Soon there won’t be any of these petching birds in the whole of Falyndar, with puss filled louts like you murdering the first pretty thing you see!”
She was shouting, now, and the stoic one stepped forward now, his own anger clearly matching hers. “And what problem is it of yours, snake bitch? You some kind of shyke filled ninny that saves puppies and don’t eat meat?” There it was, the type of insult that it always came down to when she defended the animal kingdom, that she was some kind of pompous dandy that didn’t know shyke about anything, and whose skin was too soft to skin a beast or hack open a skull. She could barely form words. She wasn’t going to pull her Goddess into this, if it hadn’t occurred to these two imbeciles before killing these birds that maybe it wasn’t a good idea, it was clear they weren’t going to regret it now. Instead she merely stared deeply into the dark eyes of the man before her, voice almost as silent as a whisper. “Drop the bags and I’ll let you go.” Everyone knew it for a lie.
He laughed in her face, and the stench of it was not appealing. “Or else, what, bitch?”
Tinnok kneed him in the groin and bodily shoved him to the ground, drawing an arrow and notching her bow in a singular fluid movement, feeling the muscles in her arm strain against that large weapon’s tight string. “Or I kill you here and now like the animals you are.”
The bald one, who was off to the side let out a yelp of anger at his brother being thrown to the ground, and he charged forward. Tin smiled. She was still not very experienced with her bow, a trait her mother never ceased to remind her of, but it became supremely easy to hit a target that just kept coming closer, and closer.
THWACK
The satisfying sound of arrow snapping from bow shot directly into the Myrian’s chest. It would have been a killing blow, but he wore a leather jerkin over a loose cotton shirt, and as such it must have barely cleared the substance, for he grunted in pain, but kept coming forward. She notched another arrow and began walking slowly backwards. This one she let fly in attempt to wing the Myrian where his flesh wasn’t protected by armor, but it flew wide of its target and the arrow disappeared into the thick undergrowth. Tin swore, the bald one laughed, and the other Myrian had begun to rise. Time was running out. Another arrow notched, and by the look of both of her opponents, it was the last she was going to get. She took in a deep breath, drawing her bow in sync with her lungs, then exhaled. The snap of the bowstring echoed across the forest, and instead of the thunk of striking leather, a more satisfying gurgle followed her shot. The bald one turned in horror to see his brother collapse to the ground, arrow sinking into the muscled flesh of his neck.
By the time he had turned back, his eyes furious and filled with rage, Tin had dropped her bow and held her dagger in a reverse grip; All this over a couple bags of birds. She closed her eyes for a moment, but knew she wouldn’t have had this play out any other way. Her own people did not see fit to defend her, but she would be the stalwart guardian of these creatures, the small and large that were mistreated by the ignorant and greedy. The natural cycle was one thing, what these men had done was quite another. He came at her like a Tskanna in heat, and she approached him like a cautious serpent, fitting really. His sickle was drawn and it swiped viciously at her midsection, she leapt nimbly backward and he came charging afterward. The reach of his weapon left her at a bit of a disadvantage, and she found herself pushed ever backwards, unable to put in barely any counters. Finally she was backed up against a tree, and her opponent’s face, though deadly serious, had a vicious joy in his gaze. Tin hissed at him, and when he swiped at her she caught the sickle in her hands. The pain was immediate, crimson leaking like small rivers down her hands, wrist, and arms. She sent a foot to his knee cap, sending him off balance and slicing up her palms even more in the process. She cried out, and so did he, both of them dropping the sickle simultaneously. Hands slicked with blood, Tin nearly dropped her second dagger as she retrieved it from its sheath, delivering another kick to the Myrian’s chest, knocking him prone onto the ground and kneeling on either arm, bloodied blade to his throat. “Caiyha will have justice today, mongrel. Those birds, will have justice.”
His eyes were wide with fear, and…was that awe? Tin had never seen such an expression given to her before, but that was when she felt the hand on her shoulder, and realized it wasn’t her the near dead Myrian was looking at.
“I can take it from here, Tinnok of the Tempered Steel.” The voice was warm and earthy, yet as melodic as the most beautiful bird call she had ever heard. Instantly the knife was dropped and Tin rose, slowly, turning to see her, for she knew her Goddess, had always known her.
Her hair was every shade of vibrant green, mossy and filled with flowers, vines, and fungus, seemingly fusing with her body which seemed veined with curling green tendrils of the life blood of the world. Her eyes danced with emotions that Tinnok could not hope to fathom, yet she seemed to see sadness and amusement in equal measure. Her gown was of the same make of her hair, and festooned with birds, insects, and rodents. Tin even saw an eyelash viper coiled around the Goddesses neck, and smiled as she backed slowly, reverently away, gaze lowered in respect, body at an angle that could have been a perpetual bow.
A long hand that seemed to have the ability to stretch like a kudzu vine, reached down and grabbed the bald man by the collar and heave him up into the air as if he was a toy. His eyes were wide with fear and expectation. The Goddess’s voice held the tone of maggots writhing in the ground and panthers ripping open their prey when she spoke. “You have poached on my grounds without even a single prayer to me as you did so. Do you have anything to say for yourself, mortal?” His mouth gaped like a fish, but Tinnok felt no sympathy for the being. Caiyha nodded. “As I suspected, do not worry, I will teach you to speak again, Myrian.” Her tone at once held the crooning of a mother to her child, yet held the undertone of an executioner. Then she watched as strange tendrils of energy crawled out of Caiyha’s grasp and encircled the poacher. There was a singular scream that sliced through Tinnok’s hearing like a supersonic knife, and then silence. In an instant the man had been replaced by a scarlet macaw that the Goddess set gingerly upon her shoulder. It looked frantically one way, then another, clearly agitated, but all it took was one finger tap from the Guardian of the natural before it had calmed. Now the two lively eyes turned to Tinnok, walking forward in unhurried steps that made the land blossom beneath her.
Tin fell to her knees, head bowed, when she felt that touch upon her shoulder. “I do not require homage as Myri does, child, rise.” Tin bolted upright, feeling like a startled deer, yet still could not make eye contact with the Goddess. Her voice seemed more tempered when she spoke again. “So you have seen fit to exact my revenge, Tinnok?”
The mixed blood’s eyes widened in horror, and her voice stammered out. “I-I, forgive me if I was presumptuous, mistress Caiyha, I only sought to uphold…”
“Go on, child, it is not you that has to fear my wrath.”
“Nature is balanced…sometimes I anger at how sentient beings destroy that balance without a second thought…”
A throaty chuckle that could have come from a jungle cat emanated from the Goddess’s throat. “Said like a true protector of the wilds. Tell me, Tinnok of the Tempered Steel, are you ready?”
Tin blinked, “Ready…for what?”
“For my gift. You know why I am here, and the ability I offer. It has taken you a long time to find your place in this world, which is why I have not visited you since that day. It is up to my potentials to choose this path for themselves. I see this as your final step, but I will not give my mark to those that do not wish it, nor those who are not prepared for the responsibility it contains. So I ask you again, are you ready?”
Tin felt her heart beating like a furious drum within her heart. This had been what she had wanted for the longest time, to connect with the beings that had been so close to her, to protect them just as they had protected her throughout her life, to maintain the jungle she felt such an innate connection with. She raised her vibrant yellow eyes to meet those of her Goddess. She would be a weakling no longer, not some simpering priest that didn’t have the stones to look his deity in the eye. She was a Myrian and a Dhani, a fierce and vicious animal that had lived her life for this moment, even if she hadn’t always known it would come. When her voice left her throat it was filled with the excitement and weight of this acceptance. “I am ready, mistress.”
Caiyha smiled, a pleasant and yet deeply unsettling expression. “Then I grant you my gift, mixed blood. Use it to nurture and protect my domain just as I would. I will be watching over you, and one day we will meet again. If you have done well then our relationship will blossom like an orchid in the jungle, and if you do not-”
“I will protect the land as a Myrian Tiger protects her cubs, My Lady, and if I fail it will only be with my death.” Her words were filled with vigor, sprinkled with a hint fear for interrupting a divine deity. Caiyha’s lips twitched, and she nodded. Her hand, nails made from bark and beetles reached out to her again, “Until next time then, my newest warrior.” Tin felt a spike of immense pain that lasted only for an instant before disappearing, and just as it faded, so too did her Goddess. The Dhani cross, suddenly exhausted and weary fell to the ground upon her knees. Fingers ran across her arm, eyes following the motion of her hand. There upon her arm was her strangler fig, roots wrapping like snakes about her skin. Within the tree were snakes, birds and plants flowering. At the base was a jungle cat shrouded in shadow and a capuchin with its infant clinging to her stomach inhabited the upper story, eating one of the figs the tree produced. Her rough fingers traced the image, watching the plants move in an invisible breeze, and the creatures shift imperceptibly. And as the weight of that moment hit her, and both hands fell to the ground, covered in saplings and a thick coat of moss after Caiyha’s departure, she heard the plants below her. Feelings of life and plentiful nutrients coursed through her mind like currents in a river. She felt the earth just as it held her weight on top of her, and for the first time in a long while, tears streamed from her eyes again, salty drops sinking into the soft moss and simply continuing the cycle of all things.
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