#woai

Familiar Voices | One-shot

Tamtey carefully balanced the baskets, her feet strong as she went, very mindful of the sharp winds as she departed from her Direhorse and hastily made her way inwards. She was very aware of her new presence with the Zeswa and… she had taken up the offer to be shown on what items were safe to gather and it had been very nice to learn from the clan since her arrival and adjusting to this new place of life and loudness of everyone.

Today, she had collected thistles, herbs, leafs for wrapping and vines for string. All needed for cheese making.

She needed to get most of this to Kìn anyway.

Her eyes lingered on the passing crowd, noting how they cheered in good merriment at the sight of their dance-fight but kept her feet going until she caught sight of a familiar tent, the dairy crafters tent; half of this would need to go to them.

The closer she got, she could already hear Kìn talking loudly.

“<Woai, your father has many fears. I can try to talk to him but he is till your father. I cannot decide for him.>”

“<I love our Pa’li. I want more in life than just being limited to The Circle or escorted to the other camps.>”

The voice made Tamtey pause in step, her eyed widening but the voice… she heard that voice before. A voice she had not heard for 8 years since before their cold sleep. A voice she deeply loved. Aha’ri. It… was too familiar, only lacking in Aha’ri’s fires strength of tone but she know Aha’ri’s softer voice when they were alone growing up. Her songs.

Her music.

Her.

Her heart lept. Was it possible, somehow that Aha’ri escaped? Feigned death after Mercer shot her and escaped TAP if they thought her dead? It… was possibly her only opportunity to do so. Even at the expense of leaving them behind? Tamtey’s mouth ran dry, but… it had been twenty-four years since her sister had been stolen from her. Life could have happened… she could have lost her memory. She could have come to the Zeswa.

Tamtey moved, stepping quickly into the tent before the hope she felt…. burst.

Inside there was Kìn, talking with a young Zeswa girl, perhaps thirteen or fourteen years old with intricate braided up hair, sun-kissed purple skin and yellow eyes around a soft face. Not Aha’ri. Bitter disappointment flooded her veins and left a coolness in her gut and a hot sadness in her throat, her eyes almost burning. The weight of familiar grief seemed to settle heavier in her heart.

“<Woai, it will take time.>” Kìn said, not noticing her arrival.

“<I know, but we are Zeswa.>” the Not-Aha’ri said. “<I cannot wait forever, Grandfather.>”

Kìn’s head turned sharply, his expression lightening as he saw her. “<Ah, Sarentu. You’re back from your gathering.>”

Tamtey nodded, unable to find her voice, her eyes lingering on the girl for a moment. She handed them over.

“<Are you alright?>” He asked, noting her expression before he looked at her in concern.

Tamtey forced herself to nod. “<I’ll—“ her voice cracked. “<Just think I’ll return to the Kinglor forest for a bit, I need… to talk to my friends.>” She managed to get out. “<Excuse me.>” She didn’t wait, setting the rest of the stuff down before she turned tail and hurried away from Kìn. From the Not-Aha’ri.