Those familiar cries reached her ears, breaking the spell of her comfortable nest. A low groan followed, and then some rustling. Ataria stared at her parents' nest on the other side of the room, where her mother was attempting to shush Rhona as she cried, tiny mouth capable of producing loud screams for attention.

The eaglet sighed, crawling back under the furs. Her wings wrapped around herself, a feeble attempt to drown out the sound of her baby sister's cries.

"Shush Rhona, dear. Your sister needs to sleep! Today's her Selection after all." Her mother whispered, excitement creeping into her soothing voice. Her phoenix Anathar, ever helpful, cooed at the baby, nipping playfully at her. The baby appreciated her attempts to amuse her, but wasn't convinced. 

Ataria sighed, curling her wings tighter around herself, burrowing in the warmth. She tried to ignore her sister's cries and go back to sleep. She'd have to wake up in a few hours to get ready for the Selection and the Initiation.

Cream colored ceremonial robes laid perfectly folded on a chair in the corner. The hems glinted with a meager twinkle under candlelight; the embroidered flames her father had sewn with golden thread her mother had spun.

He had even added below the nape a small eagle that her red hair would cover once the cloth was on her body.

Ataria's heart warmed. Even though her father's hands were rough from working at the workshop, he had painstakingly worked at it for hours to embroider flames with the thread her mother had been spinning for weeks. Despite having tasks of their own as part of the village, they had found the time to do this for her.

Since their village was less than a hundred strong, everyone had to do their part however they could so it could function. Whether that was as a smithy, sentinel, weaver, collector, animal keeper or baker was up to them.

Same as all Eagle-People villages—also called flocks —, they had no authority figure. Instead, a council of elders from each bloodline took decisions and divided tasks amongst them. Strong bonds held the flock together, more than any rule set.

With no criminals to imprison, only the occasional juvenile stupid enough to steal from the bakers spent a night with the goats. Thus there were more attempts at teaching a lesson than actual punishments.

They led a peaceful existence in the treacherous abnormal terrain of the Fire Peaks, as far from the battles as they could get. Although many had left years ago to join the war efforts, and some left still every year—though fewer with every year that passed.

Today was the most important day in her life.
She had waited fourteen years. Now she'd finally become an official member of the flock, after getting her phoenix.

Ataria had to admit it was a daunting realization; going from an eaglet with nothing to do but study about her people and skills like sewing and hunting, to becoming a useful member of the flock.

She had already chosen a job. She'd train to be a sentinel, like her older brother Orwe. They'd stand guard on top of the trees, protect the flock and the Covert; spar with swords and shoot enemies from above as their wings held them up in the sky.

She knew she was probably glamorizing it more than she should. But who could blame her? Like most of the flock, she had never been outside their territory.
She grew up playing in the forest and being babysat by Anathar and her father's phoenix Rohat, playing with Prota and Orwe, singing old Athros lullabies and hearing stories about the tribes.

The stories were not that useful in trying to go back to blissful sleep, though. She listed off what she knew about her race in her mind, hoping it'd tire her. It was that or counting sheep, and that didn't seem nearly as interesting.

All of her race shared the same features that separated them from the other ancestral races; wings and sight of an eagle, often accompanied with bird-like behaviors. In addition, they shared an innate connection to fire and its creatures.

Except, the three tribes all shared connections with different beings.

Her flock was Athros; phoenix tamers. Once they were past fourteen, their ekrye found its kindred in a phoenix and they became life companions, able to understand and sense each other intimately, even when apart. Her father described it as having a brother with which he shared a mind but didn't speak the same tongue.

Athora dedicated themselves to taming fire esprits, ancient entities originated from heat, said to be one of the first creations of the Fire Goddess Athalene. Unlike phoenixes, fire esprits were known for trying to kill their chosen to prove their worth. Bit intense in Ataria's opinion, but what did she know?

She'd rather listen to stories about the Athar for days. Around campfires, people whispered names of their legendary warriors; the third sibling tribe was feared as much as it was legendary.

Athar didn't connect to phoenixes or fire esprite; they were dragon tamers who lived in a Keep beyond the borders of their Wall, in an unexplored desert inhabited by dragons. Their prodigious barrier had separated the Dragonlands from the rest of the continent for hundreds of years, protecting both sides from each other.

When the war started twenty years ago, the Athar Keep became a shelter; the last place to go when all other refuges were burned and supporters sent to the gallows. All who entered stayed in that unknown territory, where danger couldn't reach them.

She knew little about what was beyond the Athar Keep. Old Cath said she had been there once, and no sight would ever compare except her own phoenix's feathers. Ataria wasn't sure how much of her stories were true, but she dreamed of seeing dragons one day. They were supposed to be enormous reptiles with wings and claws sharper than any sword, skin hot even to an Eagle-Person's touch and scales that shined like stars.

Ataria held a desire to know more about the sibling tribes; she was in awe of their differences, of their similarities. She wanted to know what an esprit was like, how scales felt under her hand. She wanted to see their villages, their homes; if they too slept in nests and if they divided the children into arthals until their Selection.

However, it was a wish she kept quiet from her family. She knew going outside the village was not an option, unless she intended not to return. They couldn't risk being seen and bringing disaster to their home.

She mused if there was a way to make their wings invisible, but if there was, it was a magical spell surely, and no Eagle-People knew that kind of magic. She'd have to bear with the open back clothes or holed vests for her whole life.

Her sister's cries finally quieted as her mother laid her back down on their nest with gentle hands, Anathar pulling the blanket on top of her with her beak.

Ataria sighed in relief, momentarily entertaining the fantasy of going back to sleep. But then her mother was whispering to her, "Eaglet, you must wake up soon."

Oh curses, she thought with a grumpy frown, groaning. Her wings opened slightly and the soft light hit her face through the gap.

"I'm awake mom..." she mumbled with a defeated sigh.

Anathar whistled low, gliding to her nest and hopping close to her face, nuzzling her cheek. The soft red feathers caressed her cheek and Ataria sighed into it, a placid smile gracing her face. She raised a hand, brushing her fingers through the phoenix's soft plumage.

Her mother's eyes softened and sighed in amusement. "Time to get up then, go bathe eaglet."

Ataria grunted, burrowing into her wing for a moment before Anathar pecked her ear. "I'm going I'm going!" With sluggish movements, she got up between grumbles and grabbed a towel cloth from the rack in their wardrobe.

"Remember to wash your hair!" her mother reminded her as she stepped out of their house and onto the damp dirt, squinting and groaning in annoyance at the first rays of sunshine, still soft and dim in a dark blue sky.

The water will be cold, she realized in dismay, making her way to the bathhouse's female section, shivering slightly in the crisp morning wind.

The bathhouse was the biggest building in the village aside from the Gathering. It stood behind all the rest, closer to the waterfall. Utilizing Old Cath's knowledge of the outside world and the waterfall water, they had created a pipe system, allowing all of them to take regular baths.

Ataria opened the wooden door without a sound, hoping she was the first one there.

Sadly, she wasn't.

She inhaled as the chatter coming from both sections of the bathhouse reached her ears, feathers puffing. She entered anyway, closing the door behind her.

The other girls' heads rose at the latest visitor and immediately lost interest when they saw who it was, turning back to their excited chatter.

Ataria couldn't for the life of her understand these girls.

Miffed, she pulled off her chemise and placed it on a shelf. She sat to the side, where full water buckets sat. She washed herself as well as she could, wings shielding her body from view.

After considering herself clean enough, she slid into the water completely bare and sighed at the lukewarm comfort. The phoenix feathers layered in the fireplace beneath the bath, warmed the water just right, even in the chill mornings.

She scrubbed at her skin and ignored the excited chatter of the rest of the children. Although complete relaxation escaped her; loud laughter came from the boys' section and the girls made it impossible to even try to fall asleep for a few minutes with all their loud gossiping.

It wasn't long before she was wrapping her towel over her soaked through chemise and walking out the bathhouse with her wings around her, taking the long way around to avoid any encounters.

The entire village had started early, given it was Selection day. Juveniles sat painting the Gathering's tall doors with the temporary red and orange from sheep blood and redroot. Old Cath shouted at them each time their stroke went sideways and the bright flames looked shaky.

Adults ran around carrying garlands of warm-colored flowers, buckets of oil and bouquets.

Sweet bread's fresh smell wafted past her from the bakery and she had a momentary impulse to sneak in the kitchen and steal a loaf, just once.

Though her current state of dress was inappropriate for such an endeavor. Disgruntled, she went back inside their home, closing the door.

A quick glance around told Ataria her father had left already to help with preparations for the Initiation ceremony, like most adults. The smell of spiced potatoes wafted from a pot above the hearth in the center of the room, boiling.

Ataria beamed when she spotted buttered redroot hanging over the open flame. Her mouth watered just looking at the roasting crimson roots. Surely, her favorite food was a present from her parents.

When Rhona saw her, she gurgled from the nest, immediately raising her tiny hands and clenching her fists in the universal gesture for wanting attention.

Ataria cooed as her sister's tiny features widened and smiled. Before she grabbed her robes from the chair, she leaned down to kiss her forehead and tickle her tiny auburn wings.

She stepped into the side room and stretched out the cream robes on a hanger in the wardrobe. Her mouth corners quirked up when she caught sight of the small eagle embroidery.

Getting her bronze arms through the wide slitted sleeves was easy enough, but trying to pull the buttons through the loops on her own proved to be an almost impossible task. She could button the upper ones, successfully securing the back area above her wings. But trying to pull the fabric straps together to button them below her wings, thus forming a hole through which her wings poked out, perplexed her.

After about ten unsuccessful tries, she was close to losing it over the damn button loops and curse whatever ancestor thought this robe design was a good idea for them. Why couldn't it be a simple open back, like all their other clothing?

"Eaglet, need help with that?" Her mother chuckled from the other side of the door, tapping it.

Ataria dropped her arms, defeated by the buttons. "Come in mom."

Her mother stepped in, wings tucked in to fit through the door, while Anathar sat on her head. Ataria smiled gratefully when the gentle tan hands grabbed the fabric and buttoned it together while Ataria tried to keep her wings out of her way. Her mother tutted, pulling a loose golden brown feather out.

"You forgot to wash your hair, didn't you?"

Ataria winced. "I forgot."

The woman sighed, more amused than annoyed, even as she had to grab a brush from the drawer and attempt to brush out the dirty hair. Her phoenix Anathar, busied herself grooming Ataria's wings, which was more embarrassing than she would dare describe. She was about to be a juvenile, for Goddess' sake! She could groom her own wings, thank you!

She thought this despite the obvious fact that she hadn't even been able to wash them completely in the bath.

Still, her mother, ever patient, brushed out all knots in her hair and occasionally pointed out a loose feather so Anathar's beak could pull it out. Ataria relaxed in her chair at the soft affection, excitement creeping onto her features as the pile of golden brown feathers on the floor grew larger.

It took some time for her mother to brush out the knots and weave small braids into her hair. Sadly, her usually stunning red hair presented a dull dark sandstone hue since she hadn't washed it.

Her mother's eyes glossed over inspecting it, realizing it was too late to get it clean. She took cords from her pockets and tied the dull braids' ends to the bangs on her forehead, leaving the rest of her short straight red hair down.

She stepped back to admire her work and smiled, patting Ataria's head as Anathar pulled out the last unruly feather on her golden brown wings. "Go have a look, love." She piped excitedly, nudging her towards the mirror.

Ataria clicked her tongue, but stood in front of the mirror a second later. Her reflection was a pleasant surprise.

Her mother had somewhat saved the mess of her red hair; despite its dull appearance, it was still her best feature, highlighting the rest of her face.

She had expected to look ridiculous, but the braids didn't look ridiculous on her despite the irregular bangs, and the spiky ends that stuck out looked almost endearing on her, like two little horns.

Ataria grinned, golden eyes bright. Yes, she looked nice. She stretched out her wings, one at a time, in the relatively small room. Anathar had done a good job.

No feathers were out of place, no loose ones in the way. Cleaner than before, her wings now glistened with golden hues as the light hit them.

Apparently, it was a bit too much gawking because her mom laughed and used her own black wings to push her out. "Go sit down love."

Ataria took a peek out their window. The sun had risen, and it appeared like it'd be a beautiful day. Her bright smile made her look all too much like the child she still was.

When the door of their home slipped open, in came her disheveled, panting father, followed by a shaggy red phoenix.

Sweat drops trickled down his forehead, and the sleeveless jerkin clung like a second skin, muscles on the show for onlookers. If that wasn't an obvious sign of his work as a smithy, the hard leather of his pauldrons was.

He strut towards Ataria and planted a smacker on her forehead, prompting a protest from her mom as the ceremonial braids were jostled.

"You look brilliant eaglet." Her father spoke with such a wide smile, it pulled his face apart, half covered by the beard. There was nothing but love in his expression as he stared at the daughter that once was as small as his forearm. He might have looked tough on the outside, intimidating even, but he was as sweet as a berry bun.

Ataria giggled, pushing him away and attempting to pat down her braids. "Dad, you'll ruin the braids."

The man belly-laughed, dropping the sack he had been holding and greeting his wife with a kiss. " 'Tis a great day for this family!" He exclaimed, picking up a fussing Rhona and swaying, calming her with soft touches. The big man beamed with moist hazel eyes. "Can't believe my little eaglet is becoming a juvenile!"

A fond smile graced the eaglet's face, endeared by her father's usual antics. Her mother rolled her eyes at him, black wings brushing with his own brown ones. She didn't bother to hide her proud grin, adding, "We're proud of you, love."

Rohat pecked at Ataria's hair teasingly before settling on the phoenix nest in the room with Anathar.

Her mother stirred the contents of the pot over the hearth. She gave a once over to the roasting redroot and gestured them over. "Sit down now. You'll need your energy for the trip to the Covert."

Ataria and her father sat down around the hearth, legs crossed. Her mother grabbed the plates around the hearth and served the food, still smoking.

The young girl grabbed her plate quickly, biting into the scalding hot redroot without much thought. She beamed when the roasted skin cracked and shattered under her teeth. The familiar taste invaded her tongue; butter sweetened redroot skin softened the impact of the rough salty interior. It burned her tongue, satisfyingly.

Her mother tutted as Ataria coughed. "Blow and chew love. Your food isn't going to disappear."

"Might as well with tha' speed." Her father snickered, his mouth full of potato.

The eaglet paid them no mind, concentrated on her meal. She left the best redroots for last and ate her spiced potatoes slower, savoring them.

Comforting silence surrounded them, with the occasional babble from Rhona as she scooped up her mashed potatoes with her hands. Her father kept an eye on the baby as she sat between his legs with her own plate, making a mess on her eating mat.

When her redroots were gone, Ataria whined at her empty wooden plate. "Aw hells."

"You can have some more after the Initiation ceremony." Her mother laughed, patting her shoulder.

Ataria sighed, but a soft smile spread her cheeks. "Thank you for the food mother, father."

Her parents shared a look and chuckled, nodding. " 'Twas nothing eaglet."
"Glad you enjoyed it love."

This right here, this atmosphere and love. Her parents teasing each other as they ate, Rhona babbling and making a mess of her food, the gentle snapping of the hearth. She wished to have this always, even if she grew up and got her own house.

She was lucky, Ataria thought. Her parents were good to her and her siblings, and even if they weren't the biggest family in the eyrie, they lived happily in their home, with their phoenixes.

Comforted by their presence, she felt ready to face her Selection.

/

Hope you liked this one! Please don't forget to vote and comment, thank you <3 for reading!

In a world no longer welcoming to the Eagle-People, what can they do but adapt as the world changes around them, or worse; a threat comes knocking down their doors.