Work Text:
“GECHII!!”
A voice cried out in protest that rang throughout the valley. A lone tree in the middle of the plains stood tall, at its base a small Xaela child bound with intricate woven rope around her waist and shoulders. The Sun hung low in they sky, night was fast approaching and she had been set back by a considerable margin. She knew the longer it took to get off of the tree the harder it would be to follow any tracks – assuming there were any left at all.
Her original plan of prying off a loose scale at her wrists to act as a makeshift knife had fallen through – the unorthodox angle her hands were bound at preventing such a feat from happening. Undeterred she had moved on to attempting to pick large stone between her toes, trying to lob them up around to her backside; every attempt resulting in a dull thud of the rocks striking the earth behind her, far out of reach.
The child, who was no more than 10 summers old, bled at the wrists where the sisal had rubbed her skin raw. Her face stung from the kiss of sunlight that lingered, her dark skin showing the warming hues of burn starting to appear. The uppermost strand of rope reachable to her mouth, she sets to work gnawing at it like a rabid beast in a fit of desperation. It wasn’t an efficient plan, but she was quickly running out of options and needed to get moving. Slowly but surely the fibers begin to fray as the upper echelon of the binding feels marginally looser; still enough to fasten her securely but enough that she could barely manage a wiggle. Squirming around she braces her feet against the base of the tree as her whole body wrenches itself upward. The ropes grind against the bark with a crunch but sure enough the child manages to begin to shimmy upward. With every ilm of movement she felt it get easier to progress another margin.
The ropes began to loosen as the taper of the tree became tangible, and with some work finally managed to shake off the fibrous prison that held her there. Free to move her torso, she braced herself against one of the upper branches. The top of the tree was barely out of reach, and nothing left to climb on without the leverage of the ropes to hold her. She could feel her eyes narrow in resolve as she takes a deep breath ,shifting her shoulders down as she raises her arms up in tandem behind her. The tendons limit is quickly reached and her body immediately began to protest. Through grunts of pain she rips a piece of bark off to bite down as she makes a final push upward with her arms. A muffled scream sounds out as the sickening ‘pop’ of her dislocated shoulders finally let her swing her arms over the top.
The act very well sends the tiny Xaela right into a haze, barely managing to avoid tumbling straight to the ground from the branch she had perched on. As with the ropes before she quickly takes to gnawing at the bindings of her wrists – slamming each side of her body hard against the tree to re-set her extremities. Her form fall limp to the grass beneath, sweat pouring down her face, her chest heaving with heavy panting. It was done, the hardest part was done. With a shaky arm she manages to weakly pry herself up to a sitting position where she scans the area. Fixating on the tracks left from her father, her eyes follow them until they can no longer be seen past the horizon.
She knew the tribe was going to be heading south, which means it wasn’t long until they hit the desert. It would be significantly harder to find amongst the wind and sand. She inhales deeply and rises to her feet, setting off immediately into a brisk jog.
A wry smile breaks out against her features as the twilight wind struck her face. ‘Don’t worry, you’ll see me in no time.’, she thinks to herself as the expanse of the Steppe stretches out before her. One step in front of the other towards the rest of her life.