A Fallen HomeKin

PART XVIII

Fralith flopped onto his back, letting out the long, drawn out kou-weee of a FireStick bird into his empty room. Well, empty except for the BeepCorner.

"Woe," PainBird scolded him, pecking his rips with its sharp beak in response.

He made a face at the big, black bird. Woe to you when I get my knife back. See how you like getting your ribs poked.

"Suffering."

Yeah. And It'll be yours this time.

PainBird pecked him again then tucked its long neck under its wing, promptly ignoring him.

Stickling his tongue out at it, he turned away and back to the book open beside him. Ever since BlueShirt gave it to him two days ago, he'd been filling it with drawings of birds (specifically SillyBirds) he'd seen here, writing, and things and faces from SecondHome.

He idly flipped through the pages, glancing over what he had put on them until he got to the most recent drawing. It was a quill, made from a SilentGrey's primary feather, with intricate patterns carved into its shaft. All his father's quills were like this — intricate, fancy, and incredibly valuable — especially the ones in the DecisionRoom.

Father loved showing off his importance with fancy things. His clothes, his weapons, his home, and his quills were all made to stand out and tell everyone else that he was important — a lot like the things he heard about the Rivierian Royalty. Gold, silver, even RareTeal, were in everything they had. Father didn't have things that fancy, but he was sure if they mined gold in the SecondHome mountains, Father's quills would be inlaid with them.

Fralith touched the feather on the leaf, running his finger down the shaft like he had done a long time ago when he'd sat through meetings. Father's quills in the DecisionRoom had unique patterns and, instead of paying full attention like he was supposed to, he'd often run his fingers over the patterns, memorizing them. By the time the...arrest happened, he'd memorized all but one quill.

This quill he drew was his favorite because it depicted the mating and friendship dance of OldWise, a bird that always looked like it was about to stuff one's ears with ancient wisdom. Tendrils of memory floated to the surface, forming in the same, rhythmic taps of the OldWise's dance. He let it form, taking his senses back to the past.

He sits beside his father, back straight and AttentiveFace on. The quill is on his lap, along with his hands as he traces the small groves on its shaft. Voices drone overhead, not quite sharp, but getting there. He glances up, checking the BodyTalk of the other Counselors present.

They sit with shoulders tense and bodies leaning forward, frowns and concentrated expressions on their faces. Their eyes are fixed on the table they sit around and the large leaf Drao has rolled out.

"We should move two regiments from the SinglePass to the trees," he says, pointing to the SinglePass on the map then to GrowingHope. "And the HomeKin fields." He taps the fields in front and to the side of GrowingHope.

"Two regiments? We need all of them! The DreamLit regiments there can't patrol all the caves and the SinglePass," his father scoffs, dark magenta eyes shooting barbs at Drao who sits opposite of him.

Drao meets his eyes calmly, expression neutral and hiding all his thoughts perfectly. "No RedShirt made it through the caves during the SecondWar when they put all their energy into it. No RedShirt now will make it through now, when they are not trying their best. We do not need foot soldiers there."

His father scoffs, drawing himself up. "They could send a small team to attempt the caves and they have potential to succeed, especially if they figure out our markers. I will not risk having RedShirts leak through! We need those soldiers there to make sure if they get through, they'll only see the sharp side of a blade!"

"It is unlikely they will succeed in finding a way through." Drao lifts his chin slightly, unfazed, though he knows Drao isn't. This is the third time Drao has proposed the idea, and the third time his father has adamantly argued against it.

"However, it is likely that they retain some HomeKins," Drao continues. "The hinchillas do not guard the fields all the time, and we do not have nearly enough soldiers on the ready if there is an attack. For the safety of SecondHome, we should move the regiments."

His father's eyes flashes and he opens his mouth to argue but Fenzl, another councilor, cuts him off.

"For goodness sake, Abel, stop!" Fenzl shakes his head, leaning forward and hands gripping the table, frustration and annoyance curving his frown. "Drao's the Councilor of SecondHome Defense! He's led us in war before. He knows what he's doing! If he says we need to move the regiments and the HomeKin fields are a potential danger, then we do it!"

A growl rumbles from his father's throat and he snaps his harsh gaze on Fenzl. "On the contrary to what you think, Counselor of HideAway, he doesn't know everything. I say he is wrong, and I will not sit by while he endangers SecondHome!"

Drao's expression does not shift, but Fralith catches the almost imperceptible sigh he gives. His mentor is tired of his father's bickering. I wish he would stop, too, he thinks. I trust you. And I wish...I wish he would too.

"They know the secret in our blood." Drao's voice is quiet, yet the others fall silent immediately when they hear it. He fixes his cool gaze on his father, brows slightly lowered — the only hint of challenge in his BodyTalk. "You saw what destruction they brought from that knowledge. The fields must be guarded."

His father's jaw tightens and he clenches his fists under the table. He glares at Drao, barely concealed hatred boiling under a mask of defiance. "Yes," he hisses after a long silence. "and I know I know the destruction brought by the secret in your blood."

He looks down at his lap, tightening his fingers around the quill, heart burning. Tension crackles overhead, unspoken words zinging around in the quiet. His father hates Drao. Hates him with everything he has. Does he know why? He thinks at the feather in his hand. Does he know that Father will never stop?