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Part 1. What could have been, but never was.
IP: 76.28.225.70
Posted on March 17, 2014 at 00:53:29 AM by BIRCH

Birch was not altogether certain about this task, this place the strange man spoke of, but there was a sense of purpose, of importance, and Birch knew she couldn't miss the opportunity because she was too afraid to try. So, when at last her time came, Birch straightened her shoulders, sucked in a bolstering breath, and climbed through into... Home. It hit Birch like a pound of bricks, driving her to her knees. Behind her, unnoticed, the portal rumbled closed, but her mind was captured by the scents, the sounds, the sights. All so familiar, all so precious. Vibrant tropical birds belted out tunes from above, their voices lifted to worship the steamy heat of the jungle. Trees swayed like dancers to their tune, their limbs lifting and falling with each sigh of the wind.

"Mama! Mama, you're back!"

Birch, so caught up in the fact that she was home, nearly leapt out of her skin as a child's voice rang out with exuberant joy. But... that wasn't right, was it? The tribe, her people, were dead. All of them, even the cubs. And yet, there they were. Two children, a girl no older than ten and a boy barely big enough to be toddling after her, were dashing down the path towards her. The girl slowed, letting the boy (whom was clearly her brother, if appearances said anything) beat her to Birch's side. The boy danced around her, opening and closing his chubby little fists in an obvious request to be picked up; all the while he chanted "Mamamamamama" and beamed a sweet little smile at her. Unable to resist such a request, Birch swooped the child up into her arms. He fastened his arms about her neck, pressed a kiss that was only slightly sticky to her cheek. Birch was overcome with sudden emotion and held the darling child close to her chest. He smelled, as children often did, of sweets and innocence. His trust, as he lay his head on her shoulder and batted miles-long lashes at her, felt in that second to be the most powerful thing in the world.

"I'm not..." Birch whispered. She knew the child was confused, thinking she was his mother, but there was a part of her that didn't want to say it aloud. At a loss for words, she turned her pale green eyes to the girl and found the child smiling up at her from eyes the exact same hue.

"Of course you're his mama, and mine too!" the girl said, her voice teasing. Her eyes crinkled at the corners, exactly the way Birch's father's had. "But it's okay, grandpapa said you might not remember us. I'm Ruxianna, and this is Denahi, and you're our mama, Birch."

"Ruxianna... Denahi...?" Birch clutched the boy tighter to her chest as her heart thudded painfully. "Those were..."

The girl, apparently missing Birch's whisper, was still speaking. "A'course, since we share names with grandmama and Uncle Denahi, most everyone calls me Roo and this little bug" - she pinched Denahi's cheek lightly, earning a giggle from the sweet-tempered child. - "Is called Ahi."

"Ahi, Ahi!" the boy squealed with delight, obviously recognizing his own name. He captured Birch's face between his chubby palms, pressing a kiss to her nose while Birch struggled to catch up. Uncle Denahi? Grandmama? How could this be, how could any of this be real?

"You said..." Birch whispered, then cleared her throat. Though she couldn't bring herself to believe it, she couldn't stop holding Ahi against her. "You said grandpapa, earlier. My father?"

"Of course, mama, who else would it be?" Roo asked, her eyes crinkling again as she laughed. "Come on, I'll show you!"

Roo's hand wrapped itself around hers as the girl led her down the path. Roo chattered constantly, telling Birch all about the preparations for the upcoming festival.

"Rummsbahk?" Birch repeated, unable to believe what she was hearing. Rummsbahk was a Fyren tradition in which all members of the akkide came together to celebrate another year of life. There was dancing, and singing, and more games than any one Fyren could ever hope to participate in. But the key to Rummsbahk was family, and Birch had none.

Or, rather, Birch thought she had none. As they topped a rise, the akkide's humble little village spread out before her. Gone where the hollow, blackened shells, the burned and bloated bodies. Here was laughter, and life, and such love. As she and Roo walked the path through town voices rose to greet her: Annai, the stern female warrior who had taught Birch to climb trees; Trisst, the sneaky male who always had a magic trick in mind and a sweet in his pocket; and more, so many more. Faces that Birch had not seen in so many years, yet were as familiar and dear to her as they had been the day they died. But this was not a place of death any longer, Birch saw. It was as if the attack had never happened, as if her family had never been ripped apart.


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