Trauma

Kurri left Helbender Commune with Filla, traveling on drakeback. Lightning’s brilliant blue scales match the clear sky above, and her green eyes match the woodland corridor around them. The drake barrels down the winding rough road. It’s better than the cart, but it still feels like he’ll be flung off into one of the large trunks they run within a Length of.

“Are you okay Filla?” Kurri says.

“I’m fine! We’ve been riding for years. You’re the one holding me so tight I can’t breathe,” she says.

He has one arm tight around her waist and the other hand gripping the strap of her medic bag as if he was dangling from a cliff again and it’s the only thing supporting his weight. She sits confidently in front of him, guiding the drake with the slightest movements of the reins.

“You just seem to be in a hurry!”

“Oh, am I going fast?” Filla says, guiding the drake to run faster. “It’s good to ride fast! It’s relaxing!”

“Is it now?!” He looks away from the steep downward slope ahead and watches the rocks and roots fly by on the ground. “You’re talking like Perra!”

“Don’t worry comrade! Hold on as tight as you need, we won’t let you fall. Just breathe and feel the wind through your hair, it’s healing!” she says.

They come around a curve and move up behind the others, riding the obsidian scaled drake, Twilight. Annia holds the reins firm as the wind blows the longer silver-white hair in the middle of its head against the arm of its crossbow on its back, on top of its battery pack. Behind it on the saddle is Kalen, with a rifle slung on her back. She’s wearing black except for the grey scarf that covers her hair.

Suddenly Annia pulls back on the reins and Twilight slides to a stop on the muddy road. Lightning barely avoids running into them as Filla pulls her to a stop too. The drakes look side to side, flicking their tongues out for anything to ease their confusion.

“What’s going on?” Filla says.

Annia signs, “Quiet.” It puts its hand up to its ear.

Kurri can hear it over the gentle rocking of the trees in the breeze, a deep roar permeating the air. He feels it in the ground as its low pulse vibrates the land itself.

Annia signs, “Airship.”

“The safehouse is just ahead,” Kalen says.

Annia nods and brings its drake up to the entrance of the holler. A few large tree limbs lie across the road, must have fallen in yesterday’s storm, but the drakes have no problem climbing over.

“They won’t see us under the shelter of the forest,” Kalen says.

“I think we should go for full cover, just to be sure,” Filla says.

“Okay, to the safe house, then,” Kalen says.

The rough road leads them into the holler, to the halfway standing house. They stop at the ruins of the barn nearby, and Kalen and Annia dismount. Kurri steps down, his legs sore from the hard ride. Filla and Annia guide their mounts into the barn. The drakes look at each other uncertainly, but walk inside, where their handlers tie their reins to standing support posts.

“Y’all can get inside, I’ll keep a lookout,” Annia signs.

“Do not let them see you,” Kalen says.

“I’m just a little bug crawling through the woods, they won’t notice,” Annia signs.

“Okay. Seg be with you, little bug,” Kalen says and pulls Annia to her to hug it.

The sound is growing louder, and Annia signs to them, “Go!”

The three of them run up the broken steps to the half rotted porch and through the empty doorway.

Kurri follows the others into what must have once been the kitchen--now only an empty brick fireplace and some dusty cabinets whose doors have long fallen from their rusted-through hinges. Here there is a surprisingly intact table and chairs, hand-carved from hardwood. They sit down around the table as the house starts to vibrate from the ship approaching them.

Even at cruising altitude, a warship like this can’t go unnoticed to the people below it. The noise was a fact of life in the capital, depriving sleep. He would have much preferred the oddly calming vibrations of a passing train, soothing like distant thunder. An airship’s noise is harsh, intrusive, unsettling, like lightning striking nearby and shaking the whole house.

Kurri looks up at his comrades. Filla’s hands are shaking as she rocks back and forth in her chair. Her eyes are fixed to the wood grain patterns in the table below her. Kalen is looking around, her hands searching for some purpose. Her face has a pretense of confidence, but her amber eyes look concerned.

Kalen springs to her feet, sliding her chair across the dusty floor. She walks over to investigate the fireplace. Nearby she finds a small metal pot somehow in good condition. “Perfect. Filla, can I see your herbs?”

She pulls the medic bag from over her shoulder and flings it away from her, sliding it across the floor toward Kalen.

“Sit tight, I’ll make us tea.”

“Oh wow, you can do that here?” Kurri says.

“Sure,” she says. “Don’t assume a place is useless just because it’s a little worn down. You just have to be creative.”

Filla slides her chair back and slinks down to the floor, crawling under the table. Kurri hesitates, but follows her down there. She has her hands over her ears and her eyes shut. She opens them and stares toward him, but she seems to be looking to some horizon far beyond him.

The noise intensifies--it must be flying over top of them now. This holler, embraced on three sides by the slopes of Helbender Mountain, echoes the sound back and forth through a narrow space, making it seem far louder. Filla takes her hands from her ears to clutch tightly at the fabric of her pants as she pulls her legs up to her face.

Kurri opens his medic bag and looks through his supplies. He takes out some balls of cotton and squeezes them down between his fingers. He crawls over to her. “Filla, can I help you?”

Staring through him, she nods her head. He takes the cotton and stuffs it into her ears, securing them with some rolled gauze around her head. She takes a long breath in and out. Her brown eyes, filling with tears, make contact with Kurri’s. She grabs him by the shoulders and pulls herself forward into him, wrapping her arms tightly around him. He puts his arms around her and they rock back and forth together, under the table’s shelter.

“I’m sorry,” she says.

“It’s okay.”

“Perra could handle this but I’m on my own today. I’m just weak, just useless and broken.”

“I don’t think so. I’ve never thought that, I’ve always depended on you ever since I got here.”

“Everybody says that but I know they all just think of me as a helpless girl in over her head. If I didn’t have Perra I’d never survive in the resistance,” Filla says. “And they’re right, I don’t belong here. Perra’s grown up and I’m still the same useless scared child I’ve always been. But where else could I even go? This is the only home I have, this is the only family I have...”

Unable to find words, Kurri just holds her tight until Kalen walks back their way and kneels down by the edge of the table with two cups in her hands. She hands them to her medics.

Kurri lets go of her to take his cup. She takes hers in one hand but keeps the other clasped tightly on his hand. He takes a drink of the hot tea, it’s very good. Filla brings the cup to her mouth with her shaking hand. Her body calms down a little, and her grip on his hand relaxes.

“It’s good, what is it?” Filla says.

“Chamomile, lavender, and a little hazeweed.” Kalen comes back with her own cup of tea and joins them under the table.

“Thank you so much comrade,” Filla says.

“No problem,” she says.

Kurri drinks more. He feels calmer as its warmth fills him. This is his first time consuming hazeweed, he hopes he shouldn’t be worried about it, but so far he only feels calm.

“How old were you, Filla?” Kalen says.

“Twelve,” she says, and takes another drink.

“So young. My first air raid I was twenty two. Well, that was a few lifetimes ago.”

“They took my whole village,” Filla says.

“We have that in common, then,” Kalen says.

“How do you hold yourself together so well, Kalen?” Filla says.

“Only with the help of my comrades,” Kalen says. “This work breaks all of us sooner or later, all we can do is hold each other together.

“You and the others are so strong,” Filla says. “I just feel so useless and broken.”

“This old house is a little broken too, but we still find we can depend on it,” Kalen says.