Iara reluctantly opened one eye to the dazzling sunlight of mid-day. She spent the past few days trying to drown out the raucous calls of male avians in the lek site. Within her was a growing awareness that she did not want to join her brood siblings in the festivities...she was compelled to stay in her nest instead.
A cool cross breeze lifted her plumage, making her instinctively shake and fluff herself. The heat of the day was especially intense, and the sky was duller than usual. The air carried with it particles of ash, wafted from a distant fire or possibly from a fire-river-mountain.
Iara slowly rose from her nest of cycads and dried fern fronds. Bits of the fern fiddleheads stuck to her scale covered legs, and she fluffed herself again, shaking them one at a time. The prickling sensation of blood flow to her toes made her grunt grumpily.
Iara tried looking for her mentor several days ago, but gave up the search when his scent trail led her to his hideaway den. She tried to enter, but a pair of ochre and green eyes glinted in the darkness, as if to say, Stay away.
She stepped out of her nest, thirst driving her to leave. She found the creek that ran toward Flash’s den, connecting with the river that fed into a series of shallow lakes in the forest. She drank, tilting her head back with each swallow of water.
Iara finished drinking and was about to turn back to her nest when a shadow swept over her. She looked up, tilting her head to the left, sending an irritated glance skyward.
The preparations for the Lek were underway. Iara could hear the avians’ calls, the breaking of trees and the endless pawing of the earth…and none of it interested her. She began to dread it. She confined herself to her nest day and night, hoping no avian could detect the fear in her scent.
One evening, Flash startled Iara in her nest. “Follow me,” he growled, his eye shine an eerie green.
Iara reluctantly followed her mentor as he easily crept into the forest, his velvet pawpads silencing his movement. She ducked large gingko and evergreen boughs, nearly tripping over rotting logs. She splashed into a large puddle, the sudden noise startling them both.
“Be quiet!” Flash rumbled angrily.
“Sorry!” Iara leapt onto dry ground, shaking her feet.
The unlikely duo continued wandering into the forest. Finally, Flash stopped. Iara nearly stumbled into him, then skittered back, her wings outstretched for balance.
“We are here.” Flash gave a heavy breath, a chuff chuff. A hollowed out cycad trunk hanging by the den’s entrance was transformed into a torch. He took it in his teeth and waved his head for Iara to enter.
The days and nights blurred. The fledgling continued her exercises with the other avians, her failures with them all the more painful. The alphas whispered together late in the night, wondering if the littlest fledgling really would surprise them all to become a Warrior, as her hatching had predicted.
The fledgling in question began her fasting ritual. It was only a few more weeks before the Initiation Ceremony, and she had to fast to be rid of the toxins in her blood. She had to bleed clean, the others warned her, or else her scar would not heal in the proper shape, ruining her future.
In the meantime, she lost the last of her downy hatchling coat. She used it to line her nest as the days grew shorter and colder. Her adult plumage was a subtle mahogany, turning red in the sunshine and black in the darkness. Her bright green eyes stood in marked contrast to her feathers, making her a unique avian beauty to behold, for most females had dull brown or yellow eyes to match their dull plumes.
The moon began its final phase, turning from a nearly full orb into a darkened mass. It was then that the Initiation Ceremony began.
The sunlight lightened the sky little by little, the stars fading away. The fledgling had not slept well.
She kept thinking of the Guardian, the avian that had landed near her nest and given her the cryptic message about a legacy. What did that mean? How could she consider such things, when she couldn’t even perform her half of the mating dance?
She preened herself delicately, moving slowly in her makeshift nest. Every muscle in her young body ached. She was still dazed from yesterday’s challenges, and the new day had already begun.
Wearily, she stood, shaking off the dust from her plumage and stretching her neck toward the rising sun.
She decided it would be best for her body and mind to wander and explore. She hadn’t done so by herself—usually she was accompanied by the insistent alpha female and male—but she felt today would be a different day.
The fledgling studied her resting siblings. They didn’t even budge as she stepped past, being careful not to disturb them. The alpha pair were sound asleep also, their necks entwined in a loving embrace. The fledgling gave them a passing glance, relieved they weren’t up before she was. For now, she could escape her pack and experience her own kind of freedom.
“When we die, what legacy will we leave behind?” queried a rich masculine voice, one the fledgling had never heard before. The voice echoed in her developing mind, sealing itself in her memory. She felt as if she were floating above the ground, her toes spread wide in a defensive posture. She was older, a little wiser but still awkward in her movements, still behind her siblings in their physical development. The voice belonged to a shadow, an odd form she could not place—quadrupedal, with a muscular neck and chest, round appendages at the top of the head, and a thin, curly tail behind.
The shadow paced in circles around her. She turned her head every which way to follow its lithe movements. The voice continued, “As we grow and change, so too do our needs. You are almost grown; it is time for you to leave the nest and begin to fly unaided. I will serve as your Guardian, hijita.” The shadow suddenly leaped toward her—and in an instant, in tendrils of smoke and mist, the shadow changed forms into a new shadow, a small avian with a pair of long tailfeathers.
“Remember all I have taught you...I will meet you when the time is right…”