Allamenea

GELLORGANI

Nilla and I wake up in the morning with our heads together.  Embarrassed, we both pretend to be preoccupied with the surrounding trees, the aralms.

 “We are nearly there,” Ranger cries.

 I am fretting about Gellorgani.  I truly don’t want to get there, ever.  I want to see Mom and Dad.  Although my dreams about them are nightmares, I am disappointed that I didn’t dream about them last night.  I just long to see them, it does not matter where.

 Nilla seems to be doing better.  She looks slightly more cheerful, and I do not bring up anything about the Choosing or her family.  I do not want to spoil her mood.  I am suddenly sprung with an intriguing thought. What if I had been born in Allamenea?

 I would have grown up, taught about the Choosing, fearing welerlys.  I would be used to knartes and fans and the tough meat they eat.  I am envisioned with Mom, smiling and telling me how she was sure I’d be sent home from the Choosing, although she wouldn’t be surprised if they put me with royals.  Dad would be hunting all day, bringing us back the best meat he could manage, always making time for us.

 As awful as it all sounds, I cannot help but find peace with the thought.  I feel suddenly as though this is the life I was meant to have.  If Mom were here, I would not be in Allamenea; I would be home.  

 I am suddenly broke out of my train of thought when something hits my head.

 “Ow,” I complain. “Did you do that, Nilla?”

 Nilla shakes her head.  

 “What’re you talking about?” Ranger shouted. “Oh, sorry, I couldn’t hear for a moment.”

 Suddenly, Nilla cringes.

 “Natalie, that isn’t funny,” she says softly. “I didn’t do it.”

 “What do you mean?” I ask.

 And then we see the owl.  The thing is sitting on a branch in one of the aralm tree thingies.  But there is something about the owl…it is so cute, I just want to help it.  The poor thing, it’s big round eyes.  Oh, its foot is crumpled.  Nilla seems to feel the same way.

 “Oh, Ranger,” she calls. “Please stop.”

 Ranger presses a large button.  The knarte slows down.

 “Hurry up,” he grumbles.

 Only, just then, the owl swooped down and pecked me on the head, hard. Landing on Nilla’s head, it angrily pecks at her head.  She swats it off, rubbing her head.  The owl lands on my head and pecks again.  Ranger stares, amazed.  I reach my hand up to push it away, but it bit my finger.  Killiest, blood, whatever you want to call it, was dripping everywhere.

 “Shoo!” He cried at the large bird. “What is it, anyway?”

 I frowned.

 “It is an owl.”

  Ranger snorts.

 “What is that?”

 Nilla and Ranger look at me strangely.  Of course, part of it may have to do with the bird on my head.  Nilla carefully reaches up and tries to make it go away.  The owl nibbles her finger affectionately, and looks warily at me, as though I am interrupting a family reunion.  I frown back at it.  We all sit there for a long time, wondering what to do.  

 “We be late if dis continues longer, misses,” Ranger finally says. “I’ll continue the dwive.”

 Nilla looks nervous as he presses the large button again and the knarte begins to move.  I try to glance up at the owl, but can’t.  Suddenly, a large shape is flying away.  I slowly reach my hand up slowly to my head but the owl is gone.