©Avalon Lee, 2014. All Rights Reserved.

Chapter 3: Tragedy

She had a specific destination in mind.

Eventually, she came to the edge of the woods. The pine needle-covered forest floor gave way to stone. She had arrived at the cliffs. The glow of the setting sun illuminated the gray rocks.  Skynair sat near the edge of the rock face and gazed at the sunset.

She was well aware of the danger of falling. Many a Ferra had perished here, but that didn’t discourage Skynair. The reward was greater than the risk. For her, the reward was peace and tranquility—something that was rare for her to find in Or'Naquak.

Skynair let out a long, deep sigh. Being around the village always made her feel . . . frustrated and lost. Yes, lost, she realized. She knew that she would never be satisfied in life if all she became was an obedient wife. I don’t want that, she stated resolutely. But . . . I don’t know what I want . . . I don’t know who I am.

Skynair was abruptly cut off in her mental turmoil by a noise in the undergrowth.  She turned her head sharply, searching for the source of the sound. All was silent. Then she noticed that no birds were singing. That’s never a good sign, she thought in dismay. She felt the icy hand of fear seize her heart. An age-old instinct was telling her to run. She felt panic begin to take over her mind, and fear-blood rush through her veins. No! she told her body. Be rational.

She dropped into stalking position, making no sound. The rustling came again. Skynair hid behind a large rock, peeking around it. What she saw next made her sigh in relief.

Her father emerged from the forest.

He followed me? Skynair came out from behind the rock. As she moved, several pieces of loose shale tumbled down the precipice. Skynair was suddenly aware of just how high the cliff was, and how close her father was to the edge. There was nothing between the stone and the hard, distant ground but a few small ridges. The thought filled Skynair with dread and a terrible foreboding.

“Father? Why are you here?” she asked.

Carius turned his head, and upon seeing his daughter inches away from certain death, staggered back, clutching his chest. Fear flashed in his eyes, as if he were reliving a nightmare. Fear turned to desperation and anger, and he lunged toward Skynair, shoving her roughly away from the edge.

“Ow! What the—Father!” she protested.

“What are you doing here?!” Carius demanded. A dark shadow overcame his kind blue eyes. He glared down at her, and Skynair found herself frightened of her father.

“I . . . I—I . .” she was unable to answer.

“Well?” he thundered.

“Stop shouting at me!” she yelled, feeling her anger return.

Carius ignored her. He shook his head in disbelief. “What were you thinking? You could have fallen; you could been injured; you could have di . . .” His voice cracked.

“BUT I DIDN’T!” Skynair exploded. Years of frustration, anger, and infuriation burst out of her at once. She had been pushed past her breaking point.

She turned away from her father and felt every muscle in her body clench over and over. She was shaking. Her hands were tight fists, and her nails left angry red marks behind when she opened them. The sight only increased her fury.

“You never let me do anything!” she raged. “I can’t hunt, I can’t fight, I can’t even climb trees . . . You don’t think I can do anything! You don’t think I know how to do anything!”

“Skynair—“

“No!” she cut him off. Her blood boiled with her wrath. “You know it’s true! Have you ever believed just once that I am capable of being more than just an obedient Ferra female? Of becoming something more?”

“Yes, it’s just—I—I’m trying to protect you! It’s a dangerous world out there, Skynair. Even a naïve, simple girl like you should know that!” her father retorted, an unfathomable sadness and anger showing in his eyes. Unknown to Skynair, there was a message in his eyes that he was desperately trying to send. I can’t lose you again.

His words drove a dagger through Skynair’s heart. She paused and looked at her father, searching for some sign that he didn’t mean what he said. There was none. She felt tears spring to her own eyes and blinked, swallowing hard. She glared at the ground and said the fateful words.

“I hate you.”

There was no response. Skynair refused to look up, not wanting to meet her father’s gaze. But there was silence. Then, the sound of earth crumbling and stones falling. A loud cry pierced the air, a cry that Skynair recognized instantly as her father’s.

She snapped her head up to see a sight that would haunt her for the rest of her days. The sight of Carius slipping . . . and falling down the rock-face. Then he was gone. No. No!

“NO!” A scream tore from Skynair’s throat.

She dashed to the cliff’s edge and peered over, fearing what she would see.

Her father lay prone on a ledge below. Skynair thanked the star-spirits he didn’t fall all the way down. Still, he was motionless.

“Baba!” she cried, the childhood endearment for her father returning to her lips. There was no answer. An idea came to her. “Magic,” she muttered. “Magic, magic! I need magic!” She prayed that her ability would work for once. If there was ever a time I needed it, it’s now!

“EKARA DESCENDUS!” she bellowed.

Nothing. Absolutely nothing.

“Stars above, why can I only manage the simplest of spells?!” she howled at the sky, demanding the spirits to show themselves. Curse my inferior magic.

Seeing no alternative, Skynair swallowed her fear and prepared to descend the perilous rock-face. She turned her gaze to look down the cliff. A sickening rush of vertigo hit her and she retreated back, quickly shutting her eyes. She inhaled and exhaled.

Skynair did not fear heights. She was not supposed to. She had climbed trees for as long as she could remember, and enjoyed it. She had always marveled at the view; and wondered what it might be like to fly. She loved being above the rest of the world and all its earth-bound creatures.

But now, she reflected, opening her eyes, there are no comforting tree branches. The rock was cold and unforgiving. The ground had never seemed so far away to Skynair as it did now. She took a deep breath, fearing it would be her last, and gripped the edge of the stone.

She swung her legs down, and her heart rocketed into her throat as she dangled in empty space. Miraculously, her feet somehow found purchase on the crumbling shale. Her heart was pounding so much, she was certain it would burst. Its frantic beat sounded in her ears thunderously. She averted her gaze from the far away ground and focused on the earth in front of her. She took another, shuddering breath. She found that her arms were shaking with the effort of supporting the majority of her body weight.

“I can do this,” Skynair whispered to herself with determination. “I can do this.”

The sight of her father lying broken down below gave her courage. She had to do this—for him.

Spirit restored with a fiery determination, Skynair inhaled cautiously and reached for a new foothold. Step by tentative step, for what seemed an eternity, she climbed down to her father’s level. She let out her breath with a loud whoosh, not realizing she had been holding it. Her fingers ached from clenching rock edges for so long; her knuckles cracked when she uncurled them experimentally. She turned her attention to her father.

Carius lay spread-eagled on the ledge, his limbs at an awkward angle. His head was tilted back and his eyes were closed. He looked so peaceful; he might have been asleep, if not for their precarious situation.

Skynair felt a strange tightness in her chest. “Baba,” she said, voice cracking. “Can you hear me?”

There was no reply. Skynair felt the sharp pang of disappointment, although she hadn’t really expected an answer. She crawled as fast as she could toward him and carefully examined him.

Leaning over him, she gently took his wrist—so much wider than hers—and put two fingers to his life-blood-beat. She slowly felt a smile cross her face when she felt the fragile murmur of life beneath her fingertips. The smallest beat, beat still pulsed through her father’s veins. He was alive!

She now put her ear to his chest—so broad—and this time laughed out loud at the sound of his strong heart thumping.

I have to get him out of here, she thought. But how? It seemed an impossible task.

Skynair put her hand behind Carius’s head and tilted his face upward. She furrowed her brow in confusion when she sensed wetness.

Replacing his head back on the stone, Skynair took her hand away and stared in horror at the red that dyed it. Blood. Her father’s blood; on her hand.

Head injury! her mind screamed. She whimpered, shaking her head. “Oh, spirits. Oh, spirits, spirits above and below.” She whimpered the same words over and over; a pitiful sound.

An unknown force drew her eyes down to Carius’s right leg. Except, it didn’t seem a leg anymore. The terrible sight that met her gaze was a mangled wreck of a former limb. It was bent the wrong way, and shards of white penetrated the skin. It was ruined beyond repair.

A wave of nausea rose in Skynair’s throat, and she succumbed to her body’s urge to the side.

Her instincts to panic threatened to overwhelm her mind, shoving logic aside.

Suddenly, adrenaline began to rush through her body, filling her with an icy calm. “Panicking won’t help our situation,” she said in a voice that didn’t quite seem her own. “Strategy. Where can we go?”

Tearing her gaze away from her father, Skynair regarded the ledge they were on. It extended across the rock-face, never widening more than one Ferra-length. It was by remarkably good fortune that Carius had even landed on it. Traveling down was not an option; the cliff was near-vertical, and no Ferra could descend it, least of all an injured one.

She growled, a rather cat-like sound that seemed perfectly suited to the frustration of her predicament. Ever so carefully, she edged her way around her father’s too-still body toward his head. She positioned herself so she could loop her forearms underneath his underarms. Using her knees, Skynair attempted to lift Carius’s prone body, or at least the upper half of it.

Skynair was by no means a weak Ferra. She was incredibly strong physically. Hardened muscles flexed smoothly under her skin. Years of climbing trees and hunting had toughened her body to the environment. Her small hands were rough and calloused; the opposite of most Ferra females--the most arduous task their hands faced was sewing deerskin clothing. For most Ferras, everyday chores were done easily with magic; Skynair did everything by hand, thus increasing her physical prowess. Her muscled appearance did Skynair no favors as a Ferra female in her tribe. Women looked upon her with disdain, and men eyed her suspiciously; or in some cases--like that of Gánorevf, she muttered mentally--appreciatively.

Perhaps it was the criticism of the villagers that made Skynair distance herself so. Either way, her unnatural strength enabled her to raise her father’s torso. As for how she would drag him to safety; it was a question she feared had no answer. Ever so gently, she lowered him back to the ground.

A sound made her freeze. It wasn’t so much a sound as it was a feeling. Skynair felt the hairs on the back of her neck rise as she felt the unnerving sensation of being watched. She turned her head slowly, wary of what she might see, and found her blue gaze met by an orange one.

A very familiar orange one, she thought. Skynair beamed at the creature peering at her curiously. It was her Shadowlion friend! He gave a purring growl and cocked his head at her. Hello, his eyes said.

“Hello,” she replied. “It’s good to you again, my friend.”

The Shadowlion seemed to notice that her voice was tinged by sadness. He whimpered, a strange sound coming from a feline. There was genuine concern in his orange eyes. Suddenly, his pupils narrowed to thin slits and he hissed. His nostrils flared, and Skynair’s eyes widened in realization. He smells Father’s blood!

Lowering her gaze, Skynair shifted to the side, revealing her father. She took a deep breath and locked her eyes with the Shadowlion’s. He stopped growling and stared at her, seemingly unable to move. Communication that didn’t need words passed between them.

“I need your help,” the Ferra girl pleaded. “My father—” she gestured to Carius—“is badly hurt, and I can’t get him out of here on my own. You know this place better than I do. You spared my life once; will you save another life now?”

The cat’s eyes were unreadable. He turned and padded away, animal agility allowing him to easily disappear around the side of the cliff.

“Wait! Don’t go! Wait . . .”

It was no use. He was gone. Skynair stared at the spot he had been moments before in despair. There goes my only hope.

She briefly wondered if the star-spirits, the ones that lived in the constellations in the night sky, delighted in tormenting her. They have a cruel sense of humor.

Skynair felt slightly betrayed by her Shadowlion friend. She thought he was different, not like the others. One who understood . . . What a fool I was, she thought bitterly. I should have known better than to trust an animal. But a part of her that still clung to a remnant of hope told her what she already knew. The Shadowlion was no ordinary animal.

The soft sound of shale falling made Skynair jump. She whipped her head around sharply to face the threat. She gaped in disbelief at none other than he.

“You came back,” she whispered.

The lion scoffed and rolled his eyes as if to say, Of course I did.

Skynair smiled suddenly. “I’m sorry I doubted you, my friend.”

She thought she saw a toothy smile cross the cat’s face, but then it could have just been her imagination.

The Shadowlion turned once more, and glanced back at Skynair, clearly gesturing at her to follow. She glanced back at Carius, reluctant to leave him. She looked back at her lion friend and sighed. “I trust you,” she said, still wondering if she was making a mistake.

The Shadowlion hesitated, as if he had never heard those words before. He shook his head strangely and turned back around, walking slowly. Skynair carefully rose back up to her feet, thinking it would be easier to walk than to crawl. She pressed her back against the cliff face and edged steadily onward.

Soon, they reached where the ridge turned a corner and seemed to disappear. Skynair peered warily around the bend. Relief washed over her at what met her eyes.

The cliff was no longer vertical. Their path led to a gentle slope with many handholds. The Shadowlion looked back at the Ferra girl once more before beginning to ascend the incline. He leapt with feline grace from rock to rock, and Skynair couldn’t help but gaze in admiration. She scrambled after him, refusing to be outdone. She first grasped the edge of one stone, then another. Gathering her legs under herself, she straightened them and sprang upward onto another rock. She landed on all fours, catlike, and prepared to jump again. She strode atop the rocks with ease. In this fashion, she followed close behind the black cat.

Finally, they reached the top. Looking behind her, Skynair saw that they were not too far from the cliffs where her father had fallen. Her goal renewed itself in her mind. The tranquility she felt in the presence of her lion friend vanished and was replaced by her ice-cold resolve.

She turned to him and smiled slightly, trying to lessen the tension. He looked impressed that she had kept up with him up the hillside.

“I have to get help,” she said urgently. His expression turned to one of alarm. His ears went flat against his head as he growled disparagingly. He knew that she had to go to the Ferras of her village to save her father. He would not be looked upon kindly by the tribe-members. Skynair looked in the direction of Or'Naquak, and back at the Shadowlion. He opened his mouth briefly, as he wanted to . . . say something. He seemed to struggle internally for a moment before clamping his jaws shut with a muffled growl.

Skynair understood. “I know, but you cannot be seen by my tribe, my friend.”

He gazed at her with sad orange eyes before padding toward the forest. “Wait,” she murmured, before he could disappear again. He paused, but kept his eyes fixated on the ground.

“Thank you.”

All the words in the world were not enough to express her gratitude for her Shadowlion friend. He now turned his head to return her thankful smile. His looked a bit strange, being that of a feline.

He reluctantly turned back to the trees, and with one last look at Skynair, faded into the shadows of the forest.

Skynair kept her friend in sight for as long as she could. Then, she spun on her heel and began to sprint to Or'Naquak. The trees flashed by; distance mattered not to her. A log in her path did not stop her; she sailed over it with legs splayed apart.

The village was in sight—so close. She did not dare slow—her father’s life was measured in minutes, if not seconds. On she ran, and failed to notice an object—or rather, person—in her way.

“Oomph!”

Skynair’s momentum was stopped abruptly by a tall and rather stiff object. She barreled into it, then immediately bounced away. Her fall was stopped by a hand grasping her own. Regaining her footing, she looked up into the startled face of Taryn.

“Skynair, what—”

“Chief Elder!” she all but yelled, not bothering to apologize in her haste. “You must come quickly. My father—the cliffs, he . . .”

Taryn’s eyes flashed with understanding. The dangers of the cliffs were common knowledge. “Lead the way.”

At that moment, the last person Skynair wanted to see appeared.

“Sir!” interjected Gánorevf. His dark eyes gleamed at the sight of Skynair, a fact that did not go unnoticed. “The tracks of a large animal were found near the outskirts of the village. I think it may be a—” He suddenly looked around, as though afraid of being overheard. “—a Shadowlion.”

The Chief Elder held up a hand, stopping the young man, and sighed in exasperation. “Gánorevf, I have no time for your ramblings.”

“What?! But—” The warrior’s shrill protests were cut off.

“Might I remind you of what happened the last time I listened to you? I do recall getting an axe stuck in my shield as a result.”

Gánorevf gaped like a fish out of water. As he sputtered a defense, the Chief Elder met Skynair’s gaze and winked at her. She blinked in surprise, then smiled.

“Now,” Taryn continued, directing his words at Gánorevf. “Gather the warriors and form a search party. We have no time to lose. Go, now!”

“Yes, sir,” the young warrior said meekly, and sped off, calling to various villagers as he went.

Taryn sighed heavily at Gánorevf’s departure and put a hand to his forehead, as though he had a headache. “Difficult, that one is.”

“Indeed,” Skynair agreed whole-heartedly.