The Talon and the Feather
A Causeway Story — featuring Jaiyana
Sovyr’s tan feathers gleam in the hard sun. Black streaks surround its eyes and its red gaze meets Jaiyana’s — a rare and vulnerable moment which quickly turns into defensiveness — as if to say back off. A piercing whistle erupts from the large vulture and eight more isivastar gracefully descend from the skies to join the feast.
Jaiyana sits on a warm rock, watching from a distance as the mountain vultures begin to ravage their meal. The morsels do not satisfy, however, the bones most certainly do. Since the Scorch, these barren ravines do not offer much besides ashes and ruin.
Sovyr’s movements fascinate Jaiyana. The flutters of its mane and tail-feathers, a fierce orange color, remind her of flames. For a moment, Jaiyana could feel the searing heat nudging her arms. She recalls the screams of her people, and then a sharp grip on her shoulders, talons piercing into her skin as her feet lifted off the ground.
“The area’s been scavenged.”
Jaiyana turns to find Keara’s hand resting on her shoulder. Keara tilts her head and promptly lets go. She sits down next to Jaiyana on the rock, taking in the sun on her freckled face. They both watch as the bloody beaks indulge in their supper.
“Picked clean?” Jaiyana asks.
“Yes.” Keara says. “We have enough to last five days, at best.”
“Fowler’s Bridge is close by, and the flight pattern’s to the east. We can make it in a week, if we pick up a pace.”
“Olart said one of the vultures, I mean — isivastar, signalled spectres to the east,” Keara says.
Jaiayna’s expression shifts to a look of concern.
“Is he certain? I recall his tongue is not yet fluent.”
“I confirmed it at noon with the small one,” Keara points to a scrawny isivastar breaking apart a human skull, “There’s two. Pathing in our direction.”
Jaiyana stands up, letting out a sharp breath.
“We have nine isivastar. No clutches and no hatchlings.” She closes her eyes, “If we lose even one…”
“We can’t pass the specters on our own.”
Keara is right. She’s learning and she’s right.
“Then we don’t have much of a choice.”
Jaiyana whistles and interrupts the bone-snapping a short distance away, and Sovyr’s head sticks out amongst the ruffled group of feathers. The leader of the flock whistles, followed by the large vulture spreading out its wings, and then taking to the sky with the rest swiftly following. The clear skies above darken with nine circling shadows.
“You know, the Isinayor are not gone.” Keara says meekly.
Jaiyana recoils, but quickly collects herself. Her gaze drifts westward, drawn by an inner compass guiding her towards Isinaya. Home. Now a melted scrag engulfed by shadows. Memories flood her mind, recalling her family nest and how she weaved for hours on end with her mother. She remembers the long caravan journeys through the mountain and the lessons of her people.
“Then why does it feel like they’re slipping away?”
“Because you are looking to the past. But it’s like you say, isn’t it? To rebuild means to make use of what remains,” Keara says sincerely. “You remain.”
Jaiyana’s manages to find comfort in Keara’s words. She tugs at the girl’s loose braid, undoing it and braiding it to her own liking instead.
“Since when did you become so clever?”
Keara shrugs shyly.
“Very well, then. We will go east,” Jaiyana finally says, determined, “We’ll face what comes our way.”
“What about after?” Keara asks.
“I don’t know,” Jaiyana says, “But I do know one thing,” Jaiyana pulls out one of the fiery orange feathers attached to her brooch, securing it to Keara’s intricate braid, “The day our choices are no longer bound by necessity, will be the day we have isivastar hatchlings.”
“And when that day’s come?”
“When that day’s come,” Jaiyana smiles brightly, “I shall teach you how to weave.”
