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The first time the soldiers took Anaya away, Soona fought hard against her chains. She had bitten the heavy metal until her tongue became raw and bruised, bitter blood pooling beneath her teeth. She screamed his name and reached for him until it felt like she could break off her arm entirely.
But it was no use.
Anaya didn’t look at her — couldn’t turn back, even if he wanted to — and she could only watch as they dragged him by the scruff of his neck. She finally stopped yelling when one of Sylva’s soldiers came up and pushed her onto the ground. She could feel the ape’s heavy breaths as he kept her down, brutish fingers holding onto her back.
The other clan members protested and hollered, but no one came to help. From where Soona lay, everyone looked away, frightened and withered. Smaller than the pride and honor she once knew of home. She heard the stomping of footsteps, the rumble of the shore, the crash of water against old rocks.
She could no longer see the forest. Could no longer see Anaya. Could no longer escape the reality that maybe Noa truly was gone. The brittle touch of the sand felt like nothing compared to the screaming grief inside her chest.
But she never stopped waiting for Anaya, even long after the soldiers pushed and wrestled them into their new home.
Everything that once reminded Soona of her clan was destroyed in a matter of seconds. All of their spears, sewn clothes, bags, jewelries, and falconry gears. In the brush of the cold ocean wind against her fur, she felt exposed as she stood before the soldiers. Each one taller and meaner than the next, a tirelessly neverending procedure until it was time to receive their red markings.
It took all of her strength and will to not fight back, when Sylva went up to her and smeared her forehead with the paint. A surge of disgust reared its head as he condescendingly smirks at her, before moving on to Anaya.
Since coming back, Anaya has refused to look at her. Despite standing next to her now, she still feels like he’s somewhere thousands of miles away. Unable to be reached, unable to be touched. He flinches terribly as Sylva presses his fingers to his brow and drags the paint down. Then Sylva bends his head down to Anaya’s ear without warning and whispers something Soona couldn’t hear.
Anaya’s eyes widen briefly, before he suddenly starts trembling.
The interaction ends quicker than Soona could catch it, like a small passing of time that no one else is allowed to see. Sylva withdraws and continues down the line without another glance back. When the coast is clear and Soona doesn’t see any other soldiers glaring them down, she quickly turns to Anaya.
In that short moment, Anaya quivers into a version of himself that Soona hasn’t seen in years. Shoulders hunched and head hidden away. He crouches down to the sand and covers his mouth with both hands. A soft, painful wailing slips beneath his frozen fingers and stabs Soona right in her heart. She doesn’t hesitate to wrap her arms around Anaya and holds him tight. Holds him until it doesn’t feel like she would lose him too to the changing tides and rust of red metal.
“It will be okay, Anaya,” she whispers. “It will be okay.”
He doesn’t respond but he turns his head enough so that he can sob into her shoulder. Soft tears and wet whimpers and devastated everything. She soothes away his fur and tries her best to rub away the lingering stench of smoke on his back. If Noa was here, he would find a way to make Anaya smile — maybe even a shy laugh amidst the sadness.
But he isn’t and it’s just Soona left to pick up all of the shattered pieces.
Anaya never told Soona what Sylva said to him and Soona never pushes. An unspoken secret that only reveals its effects late at night, when she comes looking for him. When everything is quiet and they can finally have a moment to themselves. The assimilation into Proximus’ colony was swift but painful at times. Something that overtook all of them, breaking down their spirits, destroying everything in its path.
A type of corrosion that infects their blood and souls and limbs. Maybe there won’t ever be a cure for something like this, maybe it will always be a disease none of them can escape from.
Anaya is quieter than usual, watching Soona with a vacant expression, as she carefully wraps his right wrist. The swelling has gone a bit but Soona doesn’t have anything else to help treat the bruise. It’s an ugly shade of black and yellow, as though someone was whipping his arm repeatedly. All she could do instead is gently talk to Anaya, moving his arm slowly to gauge his mobility.
“Almost done, Anaya. No broken bones.”
Anaya doesn’t fully come back until Soona lightly pokes him. A slight glaze of her finger against his cheek, just enough to get his attention. But he still flinches a bit, as though he was preparing for war, for a new burst of pain — as though he never stopped. It takes him a bit longer to realize that it’s just Soona, that it has always been just Soona here with him.
They are sitting near the edge of the bridge, close to a torch. The night is long and still, expanding far past what Soona could see. It’s a false sense of peacefulness but Soona refuses to sleep yet. She wants to relish in it until the sun rises again. She breathes in the salty air and watches as Anaya withdraws his arm.
“Thank you,” he murmurs.
Soona smiles, despite the space between them now. Someday Soona thinks she’ll get glimpses of the old Anaya back, the one who loved stealing mangoes from the elders and teasing the younger apes. But now it seems that kind of world is drifting further and further away. She doesn’t know if Anaya thinks she has changed too.
Or maybe he thinks she’s foolish for pretending that she hasn’t.
“Today, Dar taught the children counting,” Soona begins. “They learn fast.”
Her words are soft enough to get easily carried away in the wind. But she knows Anaya is listening when she sees him glance at her out of the corner of his eyes. It has become a comforting routine between them in this new place, no matter how one-sided it may be, for her to recount the little things in her days. The little spare moments of happiness or new discoveries she comes across, that are worth retelling.
Soona doesn’t need Anaya to feel obligated to talk back, as long as she knows he’s safe and okay. She would keep talking for as long as he needed her to. Maybe even an eternity if she has to. It all feels worth it in the end when Anaya doesn’t flinch or move away, as she lays her head on his shoulder.
And she hopes that just for a brief moment, it would be more than enough to keep Anaya going as well.
Despite all of her efforts to protect him, she always fails to stop the soldiers from taking Anaya away.
He is ordered more and more everyday to go serve Proximus Caesar as time goes on. And each time, he comes back with more bruises and scrapes than Soona could keep track of. Even when Soona tries to ask, he always responds by saying he was just being too clumsy again — always just bumping into things by accident or tripping over his own feet or knocking his head on shelves he didn’t see.
And again, Soona doesn’t try to push. Doesn’t try to scold him or confront him otherwise. But Soona also can’t stop the boiling worry in her stomach each time Anaya leaves. The waiting gets longer and longer until suddenly, days would go by before Soona would see him again.
There’s a gaping and bloody hole in the space that once belonged to her, Anaya, and Noa. The three of them against the world. But Noa is gone and Anaya is slowly falling apart by the seams and Soona is afraid she won't be able to catch him in time before she loses him too.
So when the fifth night comes and Anaya still hasn’t returned, Soona sets out to find him herself. Because if Noa was here, he would never stand for it. Would never let them lay their hands on Anaya to begin with.
But Soona isn’t Noa and she doesn’t want to be. She wants him here with them but he isn’t here and Soona is the only one who hasn’t been broken yet. So she goes — as quietly as she can — past the grumbling soldiers and through the dark belly of the ship, where Promixus resides.
Each hallway and metal infrastructure she sees is like getting trapped into another organ of the colony. A heavy musk smell linger in the air, suffocating and intense. The ship sleeps, along with the rest of Proximus’ kingdom. An open wound that festers and eats all of the apes that live in it.
Soona follows the line of torches on the wall and looks at every nook and cranny. She carefully steps over sleeping apes and slips into the shadows, when a night guard passes by. She holds her breaths as she peeks into dark rooms and corridors but still, no sight of Anaya. The search feels endless, as though Soona would keep wandering through the darkness forever.
Until finally— Soona draws near to a closed door at the far end of the corridor and looks inside, only to see the familiar shape of Anaya curled up on the floor. His back is turned toward her, with his arms tightly wrapped around his body. A tight ball with hunched shoulders and soft exhales. The mere sight of it is enough to break her heart.
”Anaya,” she whispers, getting close. She hesitates when it doesn’t seem that Anaya heard her. “Anaya,” she tries again. “It’s me, Soona.”
A slight, scared pause. Then Anaya slightly turns his head. There’s a moment where Soona realizes that Anaya thinks this is just a dream. That the Soona he’s currently seeing is a hopeful ghost, a mere and untouchable illusion. It isn’t until she pats his shoulder, that his eyes finally widen in realization.
He sits up quickly, frantically looking at her and then to the door and then back. You should not be here, he signs.
“I am here to get you,” Soona responds. She reaches for his hand but he pulls away like a wounded animal. Like he shouldn’t be allowed to be seen by her. He shakes his head profusely.
No, no, no, no. Go back, Soona! Too dangerous!
His hands get angrier and more desperate. His trembling face is begging her to listen to him. And maybe Anaya has forgotten how much Soona is willing to do for him, how far she will go for him. They’re both caught in this endless limbo — Anaya refusing to leave and Soona refusing to leave without him.
If Anaya had been taken to some place far away, Soona would have found a way to go after him. She would go through a thousand apes thousands of times over, in order to get to him. That stubborn part of her, filled with painful love and determination and all, would be the only thing that never changes, even if she has to die for it.
I am not leaving. Not without you, she signs back.
NO, NO, NO, NO!
She reaches for him again, but this time he slaps her hand away. There’s a flash of panic, a sudden movement that catches Soona off by surprise. Anaya shoves her, teeth barred and fur raised, and she lands hard near the door. He stands up to his fullest height and in this moment, she could finally see the extent of his injuries.
His right eye, half bruised. A long scratch on his cheek. A pattern of discolored bruises by his rib cages. Claw marks on his arms. His hands clenching and unclenching. A different ape taking Anaya’s place, darkened and so incredibly hurt.
Soona thinks Anaya doesn’t fully realize what he has done, until they hear slight footsteps walking down the corridor. They both freeze, holding in their breaths. Soona winces a bit at the fall and Anaya quickly snaps out of it, his eyes widening.
His stance falters, crumbling at the seams, and his eyes get watery. He sniffles and hugs himself, bending inward. Anaya doesn’t look at her and Soona doesn’t know how to look away. Despite all of her heightened instincts on high alert, no one did come through the door. The footsteps fade away until it’s just the both of them once more.
Soona lets go of her exhale. But the stinging remains and maybe she was never good at this anyway.
“Just go, Soona,” Anaya whispers. “Please.” He lays back down without another word, turning on his side. It’s like Soona has never come into the room at all.
What’s done is done. The damage, the hurt, the grief. Maybe it’s good that Noa isn’t here to see what has become of them.
Soona doesn’t try to move again. No words could come out of her mouth, no matter how much she tries to force it. Anaya doesn’t acknowledge her again for the rest of the night and Soona doesn’t know how long she remains there, until she sees the first peek of sunlight through the window. The warmth doesn’t reach them, the new day doesn’t feel real.
She ends up returning, without Anaya by her side.
After that day, there seems to be a new kind of tension between them. It brews beneath their skins and sticks to their necks under the hot sun. The long silences now feel like a creature waiting to come out and bite somebody, waiting to rip them apart until there’s nothing left.
Anaya avoids Soona’s eyes whenever he can. But she can tell how heavy the apology is on his tongue. It weighs on him, adding more to his shoulders everyday. And the truth is that Anaya doesn’t need to apologize because she was never angry to begin with. To be angry is to admit defeat in a way Soona refuses to acknowledge.
Instead, it seems like Anaya is the one holding onto the anger for the both of them.
Sometimes Soona notices the dark bags beneath his eyes. The way he seems thinner and less talkative. He can’t stand being touched as much anymore, even with her. He no longer comes to her for his injuries. She no longer has an ape for her stories to tend to. Those quiet nights on the bridge fade away faster than she could stop it. Like dust in the wind, the sand by the sea, the ashes from the torches.
Anaya stops sleeping near her during a new night.
Maybe back home, it wouldn’t be something she would worry about. The sound of Anaya’s snores and Noa’s soft breaths amidst the night air. Everything about them is also a part of her. She didn’t need to know anything else. The three of them always ended up in a huge pile on top of each other by morning anyway.
But this is different.
Noa, things are changing. Noa, the days go on without you here. Noa, I am scared. Noa, I do not know how to stop it. Noa, please tell me how to stop it. Please, please, please, pleasepleaseplease—
Soona doesn’t bring it up to Anaya the next day. And the next. And the next. Anaya is ordered to go and she doesn’t stop it. He leaves for days at a time and then comes back. He sleeps further away. The cycle continues and continues and continues and Soona thinks this is worse than death.
But she doesn’t stop it.
And what good would Anaya’s apology do when she should be the one apologizing instead?
Soona wakes up to the sounds of faint whimpers. A knee jerk reaction, a subconscious habit that sends her sitting up in a matter of seconds. No one else seems to be awake. The rest of the camp is shrouded in darkness and Soona could barely see in front of her, without the aid of a dying torch.
The whimpers continue, accompanied by the occasional choked sobs. Even without realizing it, something inside Soona breaks for the first time. It’s familiar. It’s something Soona wishes she doesn’t have to hear again.
She rubs the sleep away from her face before looking around. She slowly stands up and gently tiptoes around the sleeping apes near her. It’s colder than usual but there aren’t enough blankets to go around for everyone. The wind whips at her face and her soreness from the day labor feels worse in the night.
But she continues on, following the sounds to their source.
In the dark corner of their little camp, Soona sees him and it’s like she’s back in that storage room all over again. But this time around, Anaya doesn’t lay still.
The quiet night is punctuated by his raspy moans and full body tremors. His hands grip his arms hard, fingers digging into the skin, like he couldn’t get enough air in to stop the nightmare. His eyes are shut tight, but his head swerves around in different directions, looking for an invisible enemy.
It isn’t until she sees the first glimpse of blood from his fingers, that finally spurs her into action. She kneels down beside him and forces his hands away from himself. Her heart is a trapped thunderstorm inside her chest, watching Anaya call out for someone that isn’t her.
”Anaya,” she says. “Anaya. Anaya, hey!”
He chokes on a silent scream and she shakes him harder. It doesn’t work and he doesn’t wake up and she feels like she’ll stop breathing too if this continues any longer. His grip is death-like, constricting around himself like a snake. His fingers stiff and unyielding.
“Anaya!” she tries again. She squeezes his arms tight, without even realizing it. Was she always shaking like this too?
Finally, her words get through to him. His eyes snap open, unblinking and terrified, as tears make long trails down his cheeks. His nostrils flare as his breaths quicken. Despite Soona being right in front of him, Anaya doesn’t recognize her right away.
Then his hand starts moving repeatedly in a pattern of familiar movements.
Noa gone, Noa gone, Noa gone, Noa gone, Noa gone, Noa gone, Noa gone, Noa gone—
For the first time since they arrived here, Soona feels a tinkling of burning tears in her eyes. She opens her mouth but then closes it again. Her throat is heavy and is all sorts of wrong. And all she could do is think about the fact that neither of them has been able to mention his name out loud since the attack on their village.
Perhaps Soona has hoped that if they have continued on like they always did, it would hide away the terrible truth. They wouldn’t have to deal with it like how they are now — exhausted to the bones, breathless without a third beating heart beside them, and beaten down to a pulp by the growing kingdom around them.
Anaya’s skin is feverish beneath her hands. She doesn’t know if he has taken the time to eat a proper meal today. She doesn’t know if he has taken the time to disinfect his wounds yet. She doesn’t know how far his beatings go or if the soldiers ever spared him a single ounce of mercy. She doesn’t even know what haunts Anaya the most at night.
“He—” Soona gulps back a weak sob. “Noa’s not gone, Anaya.” There’s a sense of determination in her words that she doesn’t feel. But it’s better than thinking about the other possibility — better than nothing at all because it’s Noa and he’s everything to them and god , she doesn’t want to miss him like this for the rest of her life. “I know he is still out there.”
Anaya blinks at her, barely registering her voice, and his hand steadily slows. He’s no longer hyperventilating and the trembles become less and less. Soona weakly smiles at him as she gently rubs his shoulders. His eyes shift a bit to the left before turning back at her, as though he was still looking for something — or someone.
Then his gaze becomes clearer, as he finally realizes that he’s fully awake. He bites down on his mouth hard, attempting to draw blood, before glaring at her.
Soona didn’t think he had heard any of her words at all, when he was drowning in the depths of his nightmare. That is, until a capsizing form of anger reveals itself when Anaya suddenly pushes her away. “Stop being in denial, Soona. You saw him fall,” he grits out. “He is not coming back! Noa is gone!”
I know he is still out there. I know he is still out there. I know he is still out there. Her own words echo loudly in the growing canyon between them. A lie, a misguided hope, a fool’s errand. Soona spent so long running away from Noa’s heavy absence that she failed to see how much it has affected Anaya too. There is a hole in both of their hearts where Noa should be but isn’t.
“He is dead!” Anaya says again, louder this time, like he needs Soona to understand. Like he’s trying to make himself understand. “And even i-if he is not…”
There is a hitch in his voice, a breathless pause, where Anaya knows what he is about to say next will hurt Soona more than anything else.
“What is even left anymore,” Anaya continues. “For him to come back to.” The tears are a plea to something she can’t give him. Heat grows behind her eyelids and a painful lump forms in her throat. She takes a hold of his hands again, desperate for something — anything — to stop this from happening. “What is left… for me to stay for.”
Somewhere in the distance, an eagle cries out. But its call never reaches Soona’s ears. She’s afraid that one day, she’ll forget what Noa’s voice sounds like too.
There is no peace in the kind of grief they’re having. The war continues every time they’re forced to participate in the daily greeting ritual for Proximus Caesar. She sees it in the red mark on her forehead and Dar’s grim eyes and Anaya’s skinny frame and the soldiers’ grating laughter everyday.
It’s only until now that Soona realizes that when their village got destroyed, the devastating fire never stopped spreading. It’s surrounding them now, engulfing them in everything they already lost and will continue to lose. If she stands still long enough, maybe she could die by Anaya’s burning words instead. It would be a better fate than dying by the hands of the Vault and Proximus’ madness.
Under the guise of the night, something gives out. Fire crackles in the distance and shadows roam over every crevice of the sleeping colony. Anaya slumps back down, the anger and the hatred and the fight long gone. Soona shakes, trying to hold herself up, as her hands squeeze his wrists, arms, and shoulders.
She can feel him — can see him right in front of her, because Anaya has always been by her side and she can’t think of a time when he wasn’t — but is he truly here with her right now?
Stay for me, she wants to say out loud. I am what is left. You can not go, Anaya. Do not do this.
But she doesn’t and Anaya doesn’t take back what he said. All she could do instead is shake her head profusely, unable to stop herself any longer from crying. He doesn’t look at her but she would always keep looking at him. If death was to come for them both eventually, then she hopes it would be a greater mercy.
But she also hopes that she won't have to say goodbye to Anaya anytime soon.
She doesn’t know how long they remain like that — Anaya numb and exhausted, with Soona tightly hugging him. He doesn’t hug her back, doesn’t say anything else. And in the morning, he is the first one to move away. It has never felt colder and emptier without him.
For the longest time, Soona thinks about many things. She thinks about the beautiful view from Top Nest and the smell of roasted fish from a good hunting day. She thinks about the soft blanket of grass beneath her feet and the small river that runs through the village. She thinks about the hues of green and blues and pinks in their worn fabrics and blankets and the steady wings of their eagles.
But most of all, she thinks about the sunsets and the sunrises and all of the beautiful skies in-between.
By the shore, she’s given an entirely new sky. The sunlight blankets over the shimmering water, like newly formed stars swimming amongst the fishes. In her brief break, away from the wheezing laborers and the stench of gunpowder, she leans over the bridge and dips her hand into the ocean. She cups a little bit of water before splashing it onto her face.
The sting of saltwater is a welcomed sensation, overriding her smell and sight. She takes it all in while she can, when there’s no one around to disturb her. When she opens her eyes again, she’s greeted by the sunset. And it is more than enough for her to finally know what she has to do.
Anaya may be stubborn in new ways but so is Soona. The one trait all three of them share together. Rather than losing herself a second time, a new bravery revives itself in her. Hope is an ugly thing to have in a place like this, where it could easily be taken away with a single order from Proximus. But on most days, Soona also thinks about Noa and his courage.
Anaya is scared and has been brave on his own for so long. So it’s time for her to be brave enough for the both of them.
It starts out small — little things Soona resumes doing for Anaya long before their fight, long before he starts distancing himself. She has seen Anaya less and less these days, whether purposefully or not. He hides himself away, when he isn’t ordered in by the soldiers. Living more like a ghost in places where he thinks he wouldn’t bother Soona or Dar or anyone else.
That’s the one thing about Anaya that hasn’t changed either. Even as young apes, it has always hurted Anaya more when he lashed out or accidentally lost his temper. Despite everything, despite all of the deaths and grief, it’s still the same kind-hearted, tender Anaya Soona knows and loves deep down.
She makes sure to leave leftovers and bandages for him, everytime he returns. He ignores her more than not, but that doesn’t stop her from finding a blanket for him at night or sleeping near him, even when he refuses to face her. She takes it all in stride, even on days where her bones weigh her down like heavy metal.
She wants to collapse from the hard labor everyday, but she manages to find the little energy she still has left to talk about her day to Anaya. She only sees his back and the way he tries to lean as far away from her as possible in their sleeping cot. She continues on anyway, letting her whispers fill up their night.
It won’t change her love for him. It won’t change all of the memories and adventures they have together. Noa may be gone and they may never see him again but Anaya is here right now and she refuses to let him go too. He could hate her until the end of time and she still will never apologize for wanting to take care of him.
In more ways than one, Anaya has also kept her going as well. She doesn’t know if she would have endured it all for as long as she has, if he wasn’t here too. Anaya can’t die yet without knowing how much he has done for her.
The second time Anaya has a devastating nightmare, Soona is more than prepared. At the first hint of a wet sob, she instantly wraps her arms around his stomach from behind. She holds him tight through it, feeling all of the terror, gasps, and agony as if it was her own. It doesn’t get easier, Soona thinks it may never will.
She closes her eyes tightly and focuses on his rapid heartbeats — the way he shakes and hides into himself, the way he tries to cover his ears in a vain attempt to block out the nightmare. His voice cracks and breaks, barely a whisper in the dead of night. Before this, it took Soona a little while to realize that the name he keeps saying in his sleep is Noa’s.
It’s no different now. Anaya repeats it under his breath like a desperate mantra, like it’s the only thing left to keep him afloat. There’s an indescribable amount of love and longing and grief etched into it, each time he says it out loud. She wonders if Anaya is even aware of it. She simply hugs him tighter, taking in everything all at once.
They lay like that for a bit, before Anaya abruptly wakes up with a haggled intake of air. His inhales and exhales are sharp and brittle, as he fights off the remnants of the nightmare. He shifts a bit and she shifts along with him, never letting go. There’s the occasional sniffles here and there, a frustrated huff at the realization that Soona is still right beside him, a tired sigh for another long night.
He doesn’t try to resist Soona’s hug this time. The nightmare already took too much out of him and he would have to deal with the same thing tomorrow anyway. Instead, he silently continues ignoring her.
His heart rate finally slows to a steady rhythm and they’re surrounded by silence once more. And it’s moments like this when Soona’s reminded by his words.
What is even left anymore?
She couldn’t give him an answer then, but she can now. She gently presses her cheek against the nape of his neck, the familiar shape of his shoulders and spine. It’s everything familiar, it’s everything she loves and more. Anaya freezes but still doesn’t push her hands away. It’s more than enough for her to break through all of the walls he tries to put up.
”Even if there’s nothing left,” she quietly says. “I am still here. I will always be here for you, Anaya.” The tides come in, washing away the sand and the taste of home. But one day it won’t always be like this. “I will never leave you. No matter what.”
Anaya remains still for so long that Soona thinks he must have fallen asleep again. That is, until his shoulders begin shaking slightly. She feels his breaths hitch, his slight gasps quaking. He rubs his face in a weak attempt to smother his tears. She simply nuzzles the back of his head, closing her eyes.
“I will never leave you,” Soona repeats. Just like Anaya, she won’t take back her words either. The only response she gets in return is Anaya leaning into her hug, as he cries harder.
Soona thinks about many things. But more often than not, her thoughts always return back to Noa and Anaya. She pictures Noa waiting for them back home, his soft smile aglow with the breeze of their valley. She pictures Anaya running up to him, feeling more free and daring than he ever has been.
One day, Anaya will smell like the forest and the river and the leaves again. He will be backlit by the sunset of their beloved home, unfaltering from the wrath of the sea and the colony. There will be a day when Proximus Caesar and his kingdom can no longer touch them again, alive or dead.
Soona will make sure of it.