Chapter Text
Where was he?
A heron with long white feathers that shone almost as radiantly as the blazing sun above was laying in the sand, with some sand having been blown over him by a gentle breeze, which only seemed to intensify the sweltering heat instead of relieve it.
He struggled to stand up in the sands, his slim feet built for silt river banks and swamps eventually found purchase in the sands and he stood there, switching from foot to other foot to keep his feet from burning. The glistening dunes of a vast desert stretched out around him towards the horizon in every direction.
He breathed heavily. The heat of the desert was all consuming.
Was he in the Grann Desert?
He spread his wings and attempted to fly up into the air, but his wings spasmed and he fell forwards, his beak digging into the sands. He shifted and slowly pushed himself up to his knees. He felt faint, his throat and mouth were as dry as the sands surrounding him.
The sun burned overhead, searing his pale skin and casting narrow shadows from his body. He wouldn't be able to tell which direction he needed to go in, even if he knew where he was. He closed his green eyes and took a weak, shaky breath.
He thought of what he could remember from before he had woken up and fell over, wanting to cry despite his eyes being too dry to produce tears, heaving from nausea despite having nothing in his stomach. His body shook and he put his slim fingers into the wavy blonde hair growing from his scalp.
For three days, three whole entire days, he had felt the suffering of his family, his friends, his people. Their fear. Their pain. Their anguish and confusion. He had seen the smoke rising in the distant horizon. He had heard the guards of the temple speaking of the forest burning, of the herons receiving justice for killing the apostle, of the guilt the beorc who had bought him had felt, as if he were responsible for that tragedy.
The heron curled in the sand, his wings bent at uncomfortable angles around him that he only barely felt.
There had to be a survivor. Somewhere. Someone other than him. But he could feel nothing in the distance. His heart was as barren as the vast desert surrounding him.
He opened his eyes and looked off into the distance. The overbearing sun above sapped what little strength remained in his body. His vision became blurry.
"(What is that?)" A voice called out.
"(I've never seen a laguz with wings before.)" Another voice said. "(Poor thing, looks like the desert got to them before we did.)"
"(The other bird tribes were wiped out, weren't they?)" Another voice asked. "(Why is one showing up here?)"
He tried to move to see who was talking, but he only pushed himself an inch off the ground before his arms gave out and he fell back down into the sands.
"(They're alive!)" One of the voices exclaimed.
"(Queen Nailah! We found them! They're alive!)" A new voice shouted.
There was movement nearby, and then there was a shadow above him, blessing him a reprieve from the sun.
He looked up from the sandals and feet in front of his face, and saw a tall figure standing above him with pointed furry ears at the top of their head and a thick tail behind them.
"(I thought the beast tribes followed King Caineghis,)" he murmured with his head spinning.
The figure knelt down, and he could see more clearly that they were a woman. She reached a strong arm under his body and lifted him up, pulling him closer to her so he was almost sitting upright. He hadn't the strength to hold his head upright, and his head fell backwards. She reached up a hand and rested his head against her shoulder. She smelled of strong spices he didn't even know the names of.
She raised up her left hand outwards and then pulled it back towards his face, this time holding a waterskin. She raised the opening to his lips.
"(Drink a little, brother bird,)" she said gently.
He opened his mouth and she trickled a little water into his mouth. He swallowed the water, which was barely enough to coat his tongue. It felt like too much. His body shuddered. She gave him a few more careful sips before she raised up her hand and brought it back down, empty again.
She put her other arm under his legs and lifted him as she stood. He closed his eyes and relaxed against her. She felt so strong. So safe. Her heart was kind.
---
He woke again, this time somewhere cooler. Indoors, no sun beating down upon him. Thin silk sheets covered his body. A strong breeze blew in from a window that showed a cloudless blue sky.
He felt like his body was filled with thorns and the fluff of mature dandelions. He lay in the soft bed and looked up at the ceiling. His thoughts came slowly as he recalled the silhouette of the beast tribe woman who had saved him.
Gallia didn't have any desert near it, he thought. Naesala had described Gallia as a thick jungle, humid and alive with the calls of songbirds. This place was not that, he thought. He thought of the desert. He had to have been in the Grann Desert. He wasn't aware that any beast tribe laguz lived freely within Begnion's borders, but Naesala couldn't know everything.
There was movement towards the door. He looked over and his eyes widened and panic gripped his heart as a beorc woman walked in. She had dark hair framing her face. She looked at him and smiled brightly.
"(You're finally awake!)" She proclaimed.
He looked at her and he sensed no malice. And yet, the last beorc he had trusted had killed his people. He shrunk away from her and watched her closely.
Her smile softened. She felt sad. "(Hey, it's okay. I'm not going to hurt you,)" she whispered gently as she knelt down near him.
He shrank back further, tears welling in his eyes.
"(You've been crying out in your sleep. Something bad must have happened before we found you, right?)"
"(Please, I don't know where I am,)" he said, feeling faint from the adrenaline surging through his body.
"(You're pretty far from where you came from,)" she said gently, "(Queen Nailah wanted to talk to you first. I think it's going to be a lot for you, I know finding you was a big shock to us all. Are you feeling okay enough to talk to her?)"
He trembled as he nodded his head.
She stood up and started to walk away.
"(Is-)" he started to call out and his voice broke.
"(Yes?)" She asked as she stopped and turned to look at him.
"(Is she a beorc?)" He whispered as he looked down at the bed.
"(Wolf Queen Nailah is a laguz,)" she said firmly, but kindly, no hint of shame or irritation in her heart, just confusion and empathy. "(She's been queen since I before I was born, and she's very nice, despite how scary she looks.)" She walked out of the room.
He looked up at the door after she left with furrowed brows. Wolf. Queen of a beorc? He tried to settle his nerves with a deep breath and failed. Where was he?
He had never heard of wolves before. Except in distant legends, songs sung about the world before the flood.
He pushed himself up so he was sitting in the bed and looked around. The room had large, open windows on three of the walls. Brightly colored curtains, comprised of layers of sheer gauze and thick silk, were tied up to the sides of the windows, listing gently in the breeze. The silk sheets of the bed were a deep burgundy color, with gold thread embroidery. Silk cushions of various hues were piled in a distant corner of the room. There was a thick, vibrant rug in the center of the floor. The room was made out of a sandy colored stone. The bed was in the left corner of the windowless wall, and the door was in the right corner.
Now that he was sitting, he could see a little of the ground below out of the windows across from him and to his right. His eyes widened. The room was high in the air, stretched out below the room was a vast metropolitan area, with buildings of various heights, none nearing the height of where he was, and busy, crowded streets. Looking at it all was overwhelming. He began to feel faint and closed his eyes to take deep breaths.