The War Against Aberon (Rough Draft #1)

Chapter Thirty

   The Nökuijé as they were called were a rarely born species within Aberon that had the power of foresight. They could see into the future and had a great knowledge of the world around them. As such they could notice a lot of details about the world others couldn't. It's how they received the name Nökuijé, meaning Seer. Or See-er. That's how the old woman knew Zaffre was bonded or a kéwantï as the other prisoners seemed to like calling her. The details on what the strange woman was though, did little to help her in her quest to contact Freya. As the conversation continued to flow in the prison, Zaffre had made more attempts to contact her Pumeon with little success.

The best she ever got was a vague sense that progress was being made. Which she supposed was better than nothing, but better wasn't talking to Freya either. Overall the Felipara continued to sit impatiently waiting for the Big Cat to come and save her in whatever way the predator saw fit to do so. Maybe prying some more information from those around her while she sat, but the conversations had drifted off so there didn't seem to be much of a point. Especially with how confusing half the things they said were. The native tongue of Aberon was as unfamiliar as Freya's accent when she spoke. If not more so.

Sitting in the grime of the dark and dinghy dungeon and trying to ignore the corpse to her left, Zaffre was restless. She understood that breaking into such a protected and solid building as the one she was in took careful planning, but Freya was also a giant lion that was usually at the top of the food chain. The idea that it could be a struggle for her did not mesh well with the knowledge Zaffre had of Pumeons. Such thinking brought about thoughts of her bond's wellbeing. The last time Zaffre saw Freya she was impaled at the shoulder by a crab pincher and tackled to the desert floor. Who knew what other injuries she could've sustained?

Nonetheless, the soul-connected animal was on her way. That was the notion Zaffre clung to under the confusion and worry clouding the forefront of her mind. She had to admit that the anticipation was killing her. Patience was a virtue she'd decided to get rid of for the moment, she needed to know that Freya was okay, she needed to find out what happened to her fellow soldiers, and she needed to go home. Zaffre had been gone from the farm far too long in her book, and she needed to know its fate. Was her father dead? Was the farm still running? What of her mother? The animals? Being left to her thoughts wasn't something the Felipara enjoyed at the moment.

"What is your bond dsüntrè?" the jailbird spoke. "You never did grace us with that information, perhaps more advice can be given on how to contact them?"

The conversation being started was unexpected and not entirely welcome. Did Zaffre want to reveal that personal information? All the prisoners knew is that she was worried about her bond, and they would not expect her to have a bond powerful enough to break her out. What would they do if they knew the truth? For that matter, would they even believe her? Had they even heard of a Pumeon in their far-out city? Could the old woman really give her more advice if she knew what Freya was? Or would they use the information against her? She was in a prison, after all, residents of such places were not known to be the most honest.

"Why do you want to know?" Zaffre questioned instead. "What good would the information do? I can't see it being of much help."

"What don't trust us kéwantï?" sarcasm dripped off the jailbird's tongue. "Fine, but you can at least put faith in the Nökuijé in your presence." Again, was it worth it to give them the information?

"Your bond is something powerful, yes?" The old woman spoke in Zaffre's silence.

"Oh? Powerful? You have to tell us now dsüntrè." The prisoner's voice lightened with the thought of a bond of strength. This brought about more hesitance to reveal the truth from Zaffre.