Who I Am #23
Never in her life has Awze felt so exhausted, having flown non-stop for a night, a day, and another night, her attention divided between staying aloft and redirecting predators sensed in the vicinity of Mimo's presence. But it's worth it! To find him - Mimo - who everyone thought was long dead. This has been her task since she first began seeing his dreams. Nightmares, really. Always nightmares, the poor mite. Does he ever get a restful night's sleep?
Seeing him now for the first time, she realizes why it took so long to locate him - why only nightmares, the most powerfully frightening dreams, reached her perception, and why it took so many attempts to send him the path to their clan's new home. He's so young!
It's as she'd been told. He was still a nest-bound infant when the eruption happened. How had he survived? His nightmare memory never showed her what happened after climbing to the top of the massive rock that saved him from the lava flow. He would cling there, whimpering, heartbroken, completely lost, completely alone.
Just the memory of the dream is enough to bring a fresh lump of sympathy to Awze's throat. No creature should have to endure what he experienced, yet he has relived it countless times through the mercilessly recurring nightmares. Swallowing hard to force the lump back, she steps closer to the three creatures huddled on the ground beneath the tree.
Three creatures? Yes, she can just make out a dark face on Mimo's right and a pale face on the left. They are well hidden beneath his camouflage. He is so aptly called Mimo, the little mimic. But where is the last? Where us the one she saw through Mimo's eyes torn, broken, and bleeding? Not... Gone?
A rustle in the tree beneath which the three lie huddling together draws Awze's eyes upward. There he is! It is a clever tactic to tuck the severely wounded one high out of reach of prowling opportunistic carnivores. All are accounted for. All are safe.
For now.
Four sets of eyes regard her with mixed curiosity and caution. She feels it as palpably as if they were touching her, probing her face, her legs, her wings. The uncomfortable sensation reminds her to draw back into herself. She has been extended for so long, reaching out to Mimo, sensing for dangers near him, and pushing them away, it's an effort to gather her perceptions back into her own body, but it's a relief to regain her personal space.
She takes another step toward the group. He is still maintaining his camouflage. Why doesn't he drop it and return to his normal color? What is his normal color? Does he even know? He has lived this long with no connection to his kin. What does he remember besides the nightmare?
Mimo's colors change then to peach, lavender, and bold orange stripes, copying Awze's patterns. He opens his mouth to speak, "Are- are you-" he stutters. Suddenly he rises to his feet and approaches her. "Are you my mother?" he blurts, wonder and fear quavering his voice.
The question is unexpected. Awze halts. Others she has found have expressed relief knowing their seclusion has ended. While they don't know who she is, they do know how to identify their relatives. Mimo must have been too young when he was lost. He doesn't remember what his parents looked like. How will he react when he finds out...?
Shaking her head to clear her thoughts, she finds her voice again. "We are not kin," she answers his query. "But I will take you to them."
