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Cri'ru - Story Gallery Folder
ferroth.deviantart.com/gallery…

Qua'hel strode away softly, leaving Kameilo to ponder what she ought to do next.

The wind picked up a little harder, and she looked in the direction of its flow, watching as the morning mists were carried away in its wake. The path of the wind felt unfamiliar. Turning her eyes to the surrounding cliffs and forests, she saw the trees bending to it.

The several flocks of birds and other winged creatures of Neako darted through the air. Kameilo noticed their unusual flying patterns—it was as if the creatures were upset and confused. Kameilo's sensitive instincts were feeling alarmed as well.

Several footsteps approached. Kameilo darted her gaze to see Cro'to, bringing a wood-carved bowl of seeds, lentils, sour fruits, and purple and green leafy plants.

He sat next to her on the ground and set the bowl between them.

“I thought you'd be hungry,” he said. “You did fend off a war Garune this morning.”

Kameilo withdrew the food from the bowl and ate. “Thank you,” she said.

“You're fortunate you know how to fight so well,” Cro'oto said. “I'm seen you hunt game, and you're able to finish your kills quickly. It's like you know preemptively what the animal is going to do. That insight must have saved your life this morning.”

After swallowing, Kameilo looked sidelong. “Cro'oto?” she asked. “Would you think it strange of me if I told you I could also know preemptively what people will do?”

Cro'oto looked sidelong with her and answered, “I would actually find that impressive, if you truly can. You would be a person who can read hearts and judge intentions. Someone like that is sure to make a reliable leader someday.”

Kameilo turned to Cro'oto, seeing him smile to her. It was clear to her that he knew she was preoccupied. She smiled back and replied, “It makes no difference if people don't listen.”

Cro'oto nodded. “I know no one is supposed to get too close to you, here on Neako,” he said, quietly. “The more I think about it, the more I realize it's because we fear the strange and unknown. Lately, I've seen that change with you, like when Matron wrapped her robe around you just now. It was like you were one of us, or if not one of us, at least included.”

His words hit home. In an instant, Kameilo began to sink back into happier days on Marea, surrounded by family and clan. She was nearly ready to remember how once she believed that could never change. Then at once, she cut her inner flashback short before the hurt could set in.

“How is Nukoo?” Kameilo asked. “Do you know?”

Cro'oto answered, “Last I heard, he was growing very weary from the medicine we're giving him to help with his pain. He keeps reminding us to tell you to go to Galoa and that the Oca need to see you. And he keeps forgetting that he's repeating himself, showing the medicine is kicking in.”

Kameilo laughed, thinking of poor Nukoo dazed by Lacoan drugs.

“Will you be heading to Galoa soon?” Cro'oto continued.

“Yes,” she replied. “Qua'hel suggested I stay in the village until the scouts say its safe. But I don't want to delay much longer. Nukoo said the Oca were very distressed.”

Cro'oto looked back toward the village huts. “He told the healers the same thing,” he added. “That troubles me. We have never seen or heard any of the ancient Oca being so distraught. I can only hope it's not as bad as he says.”

“Me too,” Kameilo said.

“Will you need someone to come with you? Because I'll go, too, if you wish,” Cro'oto offered. “The way could be unsafe, for all we know.”

Kameilo thought a moment, comforted by the idea, but decided against it.

“I'll be fine,” she said, rising to her feet. “Don't worry.”

“All right,” Cro'oto said. “The rakiti have setted in the northwest gorge, which is off close to the path to Galoa.”

Kameilo nodded, “That's good to know,” she said. “I'll take another route, to be safe, even if it takes me a little longer to get there.”

Cro'oto's stood up himself, standing very tall. His eyes looked down to her with concern. Reaching out with his hand, he placed his palm—scaly with lacoan callouses—over her forehead: a gesture of farewell.

“Please be safe,” he told her. “You may be a stranger from the skies. But in a way, that makes you special to us.”

With those words, Kameilo couldn't withhold herself. She threw herself against her friend and held him.

Surprised, Cro'oto jerked, but was soon holding her in his brawny arms.

“What brought this on, little sister?” he asked, quietly.

“I don't want to say,” Kameilo said, not ready to remember lost joys of the past.

“You're embracing me!” Cro'oto said, bewildered by her actions.

After a minute, feeling the sun morning sun come out and watching the Nahali valleys brighten luminously, Kameilo answered the best way she could, without getting herself hurt inside.

“I've been strong on my own for too long, maybe” she said, laughing in spite of herself. “I forgot what it was like to have someone else be strong for me.”

She let go of him, and Cro'oto knelt to be eye level with her, smiling. “Little sister,” he quietly. “You have a lot of fight in you. My grandfather would tell stories of the old wars between the us Lacoans and the wild Tanshi rogues. Children fought in those wars when they had to, and even after the wars were over, they never went back to being children. It was all to uncanny, he would say.”

Kameilo looked at the ground, the strange, unnatural wind blowing her hair, feeling just as Cro'oto described.

“Kameilo,” Cro'oto whispered. “I don't know what threw you out of paradise, but when you hugged me just now, I saw that you're not fully gone, like many of those children were. Don't let the child inside you die. That child deserves to grow up with you, learn with you, live on in you, a remain a part of you, even until you're old and gray. Be strong, steadfast, and fight hard when you must. But remember, it takes true courage to be gentle, warm, and feeling in cruel world.”

Kameilo tensed up, the sinews of her heart twisting—the sinews felt atrophied from lack of love.

“Don't make me hug you again,” she threatened, scrunching her face.

Cro'oto laughed, and Kameilo felt his arm bring her in. “Hey, what did I just tell you?” he supported her.

Kameilo embraced him again.

After a long moment, Cro'oto let go and stood up. “When you come back, let us know if the Oca are all right.”

“I will,” Kameilo replied.

She watched as he took his spear—which he had set aside close by—and return to his guard.

Kameilo stood up, strapped her backpack over her shoulders, and without telling Qua'hel, took her leave quietly from the Lacoan Village, walking toward the Galoa peaks—which stood mighty on the horizon outside Nahali, surrounded by mists and clouded skies.

After she had covered some distance, and the Neako sun was riding into high noon, she checked her surroundings. Finding herself alone, she strayed from the path, deliberately.

“I'm sorry,” she whispered aloud. “I'm sorry Qua'hel, Cro'oto, Nukoo. I'm sorry Oca...wait for me just a little longer. You won't like me for this.”

Alert of her surroundings on all sides, she began sneaking into the northwest gorge of Nahali, eyes on the lookout for the Rakiti.

----

The artwork above is done by me this time and is just place-holder until later--I'm liking how is illustrating Cri'ru very much so far! Until later, just putting this in the Text-Only folder.

Description

Cri'ru - Story Gallery Folder
ferroth.deviantart.com/gallery…

Qua'hel strode away softly, leaving Kameilo to ponder what she ought to do next.

The wind picked up a little harder, and she looked in the direction of its flow, watching as the morning mists were carried away in its wake. The path of the wind felt unfamiliar. Turning her eyes to the surrounding cliffs and forests, she saw the trees bending to it.

The several flocks of birds and other winged creatures of Neako darted through the air. Kameilo noticed their unusual flying patterns—it was as if the creatures were upset and confused. Kameilo's sensitive instincts were feeling alarmed as well.

Several footsteps approached. Kameilo darted her gaze to see Cro'to, bringing a wood-carved bowl of seeds, lentils, sour fruits, and purple and green leafy plants.

He sat next to her on the ground and set the bowl between them.

“I thought you'd be hungry,” he said. “You did fend off a war Garune this morning.”

Kameilo withdrew the food from the bowl and ate. “Thank you,” she said.

“You're fortunate you know how to fight so well,” Cro'oto said. “I'm seen you hunt game, and you're able to finish your kills quickly. It's like you know preemptively what the animal is going to do. That insight must have saved your life this morning.”

After swallowing, Kameilo looked sidelong. “Cro'oto?” she asked. “Would you think it strange of me if I told you I could also know preemptively what people will do?”

Cro'oto looked sidelong with her and answered, “I would actually find that impressive, if you truly can. You would be a person who can read hearts and judge intentions. Someone like that is sure to make a reliable leader someday.”

Kameilo turned to Cro'oto, seeing him smile to her. It was clear to her that he knew she was preoccupied. She smiled back and replied, “It makes no difference if people don't listen.”

Cro'oto nodded. “I know no one is supposed to get too close to you, here on Neako,” he said, quietly. “The more I think about it, the more I realize it's because we fear the strange and unknown. Lately, I've seen that change with you, like when Matron wrapped her robe around you just now. It was like you were one of us, or if not one of us, at least included.”

His words hit home. In an instant, Kameilo began to sink back into happier days on Marea, surrounded by family and clan. She was nearly ready to remember how once she believed that could never change. Then at once, she cut her inner flashback short before the hurt could set in.

“How is Nukoo?” Kameilo asked. “Do you know?”

Cro'oto answered, “Last I heard, he was growing very weary from the medicine we're giving him to help with his pain. He keeps reminding us to tell you to go to Galoa and that the Oca need to see you. And he keeps forgetting that he's repeating himself, showing the medicine is kicking in.”

Kameilo laughed, thinking of poor Nukoo dazed by Lacoan drugs.

“Will you be heading to Galoa soon?” Cro'oto continued.

“Yes,” she replied. “Qua'hel suggested I stay in the village until the scouts say its safe. But I don't want to delay much longer. Nukoo said the Oca were very distressed.”

Cro'oto looked back toward the village huts. “He told the healers the same thing,” he added. “That troubles me. We have never seen or heard any of the ancient Oca being so distraught. I can only hope it's not as bad as he says.”

“Me too,” Kameilo said.

“Will you need someone to come with you? Because I'll go, too, if you wish,” Cro'oto offered. “The way could be unsafe, for all we know.”

Kameilo thought a moment, comforted by the idea, but decided against it.

“I'll be fine,” she said, rising to her feet. “Don't worry.”

“All right,” Cro'oto said. “The rakiti have setted in the northwest gorge, which is off close to the path to Galoa.”

Kameilo nodded, “That's good to know,” she said. “I'll take another route, to be safe, even if it takes me a little longer to get there.”

Cro'oto's stood up himself, standing very tall. His eyes looked down to her with concern. Reaching out with his hand, he placed his palm—scaly with lacoan callouses—over her forehead: a gesture of farewell.

“Please be safe,” he told her. “You may be a stranger from the skies. But in a way, that makes you special to us.”

With those words, Kameilo couldn't withhold herself. She threw herself against her friend and held him.

Surprised, Cro'oto jerked, but was soon holding her in his brawny arms.

“What brought this on, little sister?” he asked, quietly.

“I don't want to say,” Kameilo said, not ready to remember lost joys of the past.

“You're embracing me!” Cro'oto said, bewildered by her actions.

After a minute, feeling the sun morning sun come out and watching the Nahali valleys brighten luminously, Kameilo answered the best way she could, without getting herself hurt inside.

“I've been strong on my own for too long, maybe” she said, laughing in spite of herself. “I forgot what it was like to have someone else be strong for me.”

She let go of him, and Cro'oto knelt to be eye level with her, smiling. “Little sister,” he quietly. “You have a lot of fight in you. My grandfather would tell stories of the old wars between the us Lacoans and the wild Tanshi rogues. Children fought in those wars when they had to, and even after the wars were over, they never went back to being children. It was all to uncanny, he would say.”

Kameilo looked at the ground, the strange, unnatural wind blowing her hair, feeling just as Cro'oto described.

“Kameilo,” Cro'oto whispered. “I don't know what threw you out of paradise, but when you hugged me just now, I saw that you're not fully gone, like many of those children were. Don't let the child inside you die. That child deserves to grow up with you, learn with you, live on in you, a remain a part of you, even until you're old and gray. Be strong, steadfast, and fight hard when you must. But remember, it takes true courage to be gentle, warm, and feeling in cruel world.”

Kameilo tensed up, the sinews of her heart twisting—the sinews felt atrophied from lack of love.

“Don't make me hug you again,” she threatened, scrunching her face.

Cro'oto laughed, and Kameilo felt his arm bring her in. “Hey, what did I just tell you?” he supported her.

Kameilo embraced him again.

After a long moment, Cro'oto let go and stood up. “When you come back, let us know if the Oca are all right.”

“I will,” Kameilo replied.

She watched as he took his spear—which he had set aside close by—and return to his guard.

Kameilo stood up, strapped her backpack over her shoulders, and without telling Qua'hel, took her leave quietly from the Lacoan Village, walking toward the Galoa peaks—which stood mighty on the horizon outside Nahali, surrounded by mists and clouded skies.

After she had covered some distance, and the Neako sun was riding into high noon, she checked her surroundings. Finding herself alone, she strayed from the path, deliberately.

“I'm sorry,” she whispered aloud. “I'm sorry Qua'hel, Cro'oto, Nukoo. I'm sorry Oca...wait for me just a little longer. You won't like me for this.”

Alert of her surroundings on all sides, she began sneaking into the northwest gorge of Nahali, eyes on the lookout for the Rakiti.

----

The artwork above is done by me this time and is just place-holder until later--I'm liking how is illustrating Cri'ru very much so far! Until later, just putting this in the Text-Only folder.