Chapter 1-I Awaken

I am on fire. Fire, I died from fire and flame, just as the sun goddess Saule had warned me. But no, wait, I am breathing, and the air is chilly as I feel the air puff out of my beak. In a final hope that it was all a nightmare, I wait for Elena to call me to breakfast any moment. I twist to switch sides, only to bite back a scream of pain. Everything burns! Flames of agony rip through me whenever I try to move. No part of me is left untouched, and I feel like I was nearly destroyed by fire instead of being master over it. But it is only when I recognize the harsh coldness of packed, rocky earth and see my breath come out in icy clouds that I accept I am not dreaming.

Everything is gone. The manor crumbled down to the ground; my people have died long ago. I am the sole survivor.

Despite the harsh winter, the earth’s gentle touch revives me piece by piece, stitching me back together the more I walk, but the frosty air coaxes me back into the burrow beneath the linden. The last thing I felt was that sword piercing my back, so how am I alive? Where are the knights? They would never have relented until they killed me, not unless they themselves had diminished… One can hope.

The more I concentrate, the less I remember clearly, and the less I wish to remember. Black spots cloud my vision. I curl up, ignoring the screams from my memory. Elena’s cries are the final sounds that rock me shamefully to slumber. I failed to protect them. I failed to protect anyone and anything worth serving.

Aroooo!

Wolves. Wonderful. Stifling a moan, I risk raising my head enough to look around, but there is not much to see through the dense forest. Enough of this! I begin to rise, but pain immobilizes me. Well, this could be better. I curl back into the bundle of fur and feathers and whatever else I am now and hide, for I am in no state to fight. Eventually, the sniffing and growling ebbs away from me, and I slither out to inspect my new environment.

No Teutonic Knights, thank the gods, but my home is long gone; not even the ashy cinders remain. I can sense nothing of my destroyed home, there is no lingering smell of burnt wood. No other mortal dwellings in sight, either. Indeed, no creatures seem to be around until I jump at a lone, startled squirrel skittering across my path, obviously hoping I have nuts; I do not. I have nothing. Smelling the air, I sense nothing but greenery for miles around. If I were not enduring a migraine, this would be lovely, but as it is, I resume hibernation.

I am not waiting to be found, to be rescued. I am not expecting the girl beneath the linden tree.

I awaken to the sound of music. This in and of itself is not surprising- this is the Land of Song- but what shocks me is that it is not human voices I hear, but metal. I am too weak to investigate; the sound prevents me from slumbering yet draws me closer to blacking out. Either way, I do not rise. I do not wish to rise. There is nothing left to live for. I curl into a black mass of feathers and scales and whatever else, with only my linden tree for company. Zemyna hums me back to sleep, coaxing her energy into me.

I must have slumbered for a long time, long enough for the tree to grow to tower past the sun, her leafy canopy raised in praise of Saule. A few centuries, at least. If I were not so exhausted, I would have joined her- I should not be alive to see today, yet the sun greets me as an old, beautiful friend after much heartache and toil. As it is, I can barely lift my head to observe my surroundings. At least the knights left the forest intact, though this place doesn’t seem familiar to me- it feels like a young wood, not the ancient beings I knew and befriended. A distant, dilapidated cottage peeks at me from the top of a small hill, nestled between pines. I close my eyes. It’s far easier to curl up and rest than explore my surroundings. I must sleep; that is all there is left now.

***

“Blargh! Stupid bugs,” I grumble. The dirt tastes better! That I am scavenging is a good sign, but I am still weary; much of the time I am dozing beneath the tree. Resting, weary, resting, waiting… Waiting for what? My powers grow and call, returning far too gradually as the Earth dresses herself for spring. I slumber on. Regardless of my strength, I cannot wander far- when I bound myself to the linden, I trapped myself underneath its shade. Now, unless someone by some chance finds me and takes me in, claiming me as their own eternal servant, I must remain here. Not that I wish for that- people have brought me nothing but misery and woe.

I rest and wait, time to sleep. Repeat the next day. A slow life, a peaceful life. A boring life. Then again, I should be used to it, grateful for it- for the first time in my existence, I am not being beckoned to serve a master. I have never lived happily for another; I thought I had once, but look what it cost me! That life was a mistake, and the feelings from it even more so. Now I am nothing, almost undone and reborn beneath a tree. I sleep.

“Poor thing, you must be lost.”

I blink open an eye, just long enough to take in soft features gazing at me in concern. Her features are foggy- I must be losing my eyesight on top of all this. Wonderful.

“Are you hurt? Did you fall from the tree?” She reaches toward me, but I snap my beak at her. I am done dealing with humans. Pulling away, she sits back on her feet and observes me critically.” Hmm, you’re a beauty. Want to huddle out here in the cold, or warm up by a fire?” I glare up at her--I will not be going home with anyone. I only want to be left in peace. Sadly, without my consent, before I know it, I am being smothered by her scarf. “Too bad- you can continue your sulking at home.” Before I can protest further, she bundles me up in her shawl and carries me inside the cottage. “I’m Birute, by the way.” Well, my dear Birute, congratulations--you have just found yourself an indentured servant for life.

I am released into warmth and light. “There you go,” she says. Avoiding my beak best she can manage, she nestles me into the worn, red velvet armchair beside the hearth, then feeds the flames. At least she pays Gabija homage--not many possess such common sense. Keeping her distance while appraising me, she sighs, “Make yourself at home!” She goes to what I assume is her kitchen, leaving me to rest near the hearth, which, despite its modest size, comforts me. I welcome the flames seeping into me, lending me strength, awakening me bit by bit. To my astonishment, she returns with an offering of… something.

“There you go!” she says. Birdseed? What a delicacy... I peck at the yellow seeds a little, but the fire fills me more than the kernels do. Instead of eating the kernels, I gently push the plate away.

“What’s wrong, has the corn gone bad already?” Sighing, she dumps the kernels back into a bag. “Great.”

She is useless. Swiftly, I shuffle into her kitchen, too leaden to ruffle my feathers. My limbs are weighed down by a thousand years of oppression and guilt as I taste the air, but find little but leftover omelet. She could have served me this instead of that corn. Obviously, she was not hungry enough for it. I leap atop the counter.

“Hey, those are my eggs!” I look up at her balefully, then resume my meal. Scrunching her forehead, she groans, “I was going to eat those tonight! Argh, fine! Since you’ve already helped yourself... What kind of rooster eats eggs?” She squints at me, risking a closer look. “Are you a rooster?” I bite back a laugh- if only she knew. Seemingly giving up on the question, she returns to her desk by the fireplace.

How could she not finish this food! It is sacrilegious! Then again, perhaps I am the strange one- after dining on bugs and dirt and wild grain, any human food would be a feast. I had sworn away from any human items or food, but the stomach wants what it wants. I am licking up the morsels when another equally delightful odor assaults my nostrils. The silky, fluid smell is so familiar! No, it cannot be- such a luxury would belong to a family with cattle, which I have not seen here. Regardless, I begin sniffing the icebox, and my beak is in the carton before the girl snatches it away.

“Ok ok, I’m pouring a bowl for you. See?” she says, moving to the side so I can see. Then, she places it on the ground before me. Smelling it, I turn away from it- it will not be enough. Please Gods, tell me she has- aha! The nectar of the bees! I try to reach it, but lack the energy to leap onto the countertop again.

“So, you want honey too, now. Boy, you’re a picky eater.” Nonetheless, she squirts some into the milk offering, which I lap up. Just enough to begin rebuilding my strength! More nectar would have been nice, but I am satisfied for now; after all, she probably saved my life.

“You’re a weird bird--most stray roosters would’ve snarfed up the corn!” I am not most birds. I am not even a rooster. Narrowing her eyes at me from her seat by her desk, she whispers as if to herself, “What kind of animal are you?”

If only you knew, my dear. If only you knew. But you will never learn.

Some helpful definitions, my lovely readers! Enjoy ^.^

Glossary

Zemyna:  Mother Earth 

Saule: Sun goddess

Menuli: Moon God