12th of Spring, 515
They pulled her down. The weight of it was suffocating. She spat, bit, and jerked wildly to free herself. Wren's arms were pinned down uselessly. She could not even use her wings to bat at them, as they too were immobile. She saw the human faces in bright detail when one came forth with a torch. Wren continued to struggle against her captors, attempting to buffet them with her head even. But they were always just out of reach. She may as well have been bound in chains for all the hope she had at freedom. And all the while, those faces continued to mock her.
Did they mean to violate her? Eat her? She could not guess their intent, but it could not bode well for her. Wren would not give them the satisfaction of catching even a glimpse of fear. Scarlet eyes blazed with hatred, mirroring the flickering torchlight that closed in on her. A promise of vengeance smoldered in their depths. She clamped her eyes shut. No longer could she stand the undulating flame. Her nostrils flared, catching the scent of charred flesh. Her flesh! She issued a blood curdling scream when the pain flared up to unimaginable levels.
Her mind began to wander as she felt consciousness slipping away. She thought she heard the ultrasonic tongue of her people, far away at first, but then close by. It was the voice of her twin, she'd recognize it anywhere. But her words were only cold, and full of malice.
"Burn you bitch. It's what you deserve. You are weaker than even the humans. I am shamed to call you sister. You deserve to die."
Wren's eyes peeled open. Beyond her pyre of licking fire, she saw her sister standing among the humans that held her. A wicked smile of satisfaction on her face. Wren screamed again. This time the pain was much much worse. Betrayed by the only person in her world that mattered. She screamed for what felt like an eternity.
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Wren whipped around on her bed of furs, writhing in agony until the illusion of nightmare melded with reality. Her chest heaved, still breathing hard as her eyes focused on the interior of her cave abode. The realization dawned on her that it was all just a foolish dream. Her sister was not with the humans. She was dead. And there was no fire to burn her. Still, she made a quick inspection to be sure. Wren flung the fur that covered her aside, blowing a tendril of night blue hair from her face irritably. Wren growled low in her throat as she regained composure, patting her toned body down just to be certain. There was no fire on her. The vision of her sister with the humans, burning her alive haunted her mind even now. She banished the thoughts, a fist clenched.
Wren arched her back, stretching arms overhead even as she gave her black wings a good expanding flutter to loosen the tension. Stooping down briefly, she took her hunting weapon, sheath, and harness up in her hands, wreathing it about her waist and buckling it into place with ease. Wren breezed out of her bed chamber, down a short winding corridor that connected to a larger space. In the shadowy darkness, piles of junk lurked. Wren's obsession with hording every trinket, scrap of fabric, scrap of metal, and hunk of wood she could get her claws on, had turned the space into a veritable junk yard.
Wren paused at one such heap to lift a helmet (cook pot) from the mess and place it carefully on her head, handle sticking out above her scarlet eyes. She made sure it wasn't crooked before turning away. Then, of course, it tipped down, blinding her. Wren returned the helmet back to the pile with a sorrowful tap. She would have to find a strap for that. She caressed a few other odds and ends lovingly, promising herself to study them in more detail later. A stretch of canvas she had looted from a dilapidated wagon along the roadside now served as the Zith's front door screen. A broken spear haft was nailed just above it, and along it, the canvas slid open to her less than gentle tug.
There was nothing to see but darkness, and a span of fissured rock, festooned with moss on her doorstep. Wren climbed out onto the massive stalactite, easily scaling the surface that had plenty of places to wedge toe or claw. Not that she needed to climb far. Judging herself to have plenty of room to maneuver now, Wren dove off the rock ledge, wings beating furiously to slow her descent, her dark hair and body fur wavered as she flew through the vast cavern. Wren skimmed the cave floor for a few heartbeats, slowing enough to where she could run, zigzagging her way past stalagmites.
This area of the cave was bisected by something not quite a stream. But enough of a water source for Wren to savor a mouthful of it. She glanced up, whipping her wet hair back, face glistening, and saw a trickle of water meandering down the many cracks and crevices of the cave wall. The rivulets of water coalesced at the cave floor, forming the water source in which she drank. She laughed in amazement, eye-lashes still dripping water, pushed off the floor, straight into a run. It wasn't long before she bounded once, twice, and with a great splash, propelled herself into the air. Shortly thereafter her wings flapped a steady beat. She still knew so very little of her new home. There was much to explore. Much to learn.
