by MillieCat
I remember running through the trees, trying to keep up with the sparrows. My mother laughed and smiled in the shade of the mountain. They said the animals loved me, but especially the sparrows. Such delightful creatures they are, so happy and carefree. I seemed that way, to the others at least. I did not let the tribe see me at the other times, running off to the caves to plan and brood about being more, doing more. Our lives are good, mostly. But yet, sometimes there is cold, sickness, and hunger even in this wonderful area. I cry with the howling of the wolves, and the sparrows stop their singing when I do.
I come down from the mountain, my young form shaking from the fifteen days that I had spent up there without food, and with very little water: Another cleansing, which I had through the years managed to pass off as getting in touch with my spirit totem. As I descend to the valley, I smell smoke. "Another summer forest fire," I think unconcernedly to myself. Then, I see the source.
"No!!!" I scream, and the forest silences. My village is burned to the ground, blackened in a circle that no natural occurrence could possibly have done. The air is thick with the foul, putrid stench of burned flesh. Dry heaves from my empty stomach force me to my knees. I look up, eyes watering, and vow vengeance, removing my clothing and covering myself with the ash of my village and friends. All hunger and thirst forgotten, I use my skills to find the direction of the enemy’s retreat, and follow.
The trail leads up a crest of a mountain that I visit less often. I arrive at the mouth of a cave that I had visited twice before. Even my fury and rage can not keep me from collapsing just inside its mouth. I fade with the last hint of day.
"Ah, Little Sparrow, it seems you were spared." It is the most soothing voice that I have ever heard, coming from within the cave. "Fret not, I have… taken care of some of the fiends that did this to your tribe. They were starving savages, but tried to make it look like the white man did the ravaging.
"How do I know it was not you who did this?" I say with hate of anything with the gall to outlive my tribe. Long past reason I am, as I squint at the shadowy form in the cave.
"Come now, do I sound like someone who would do that?" he queries with ultimate suave, and just a hint of goading.
"How do you know my name?" I ask, not really caring in my delirium.
"I have lived here for a very, very long time, and I have watched you much. I, too, sing with the animals." With that, he begins to whistle a tune that is almost indiscernible from an actual sparrow’s song. Soon enough, sparrows appear, and sing with him. My rage turns to awe as my eyes close. I am swept away by the singing. In moments, with the sparrows still lulling me, he speaks again. "You are near death. As you are now, you cannot fulfill your vow. You will die, Little Sparrow, with no retribution to those that caused this. I can give you a gift that will enable you to continue for as long as you are careful. But, the gift comes with a price."
"I will pay any price," I whisper, my consciousness and life slipping away. He steps out of the shadow of the cave into the full moon light. Even in my waning state, I manage a gasp. He is hideous, a monster beyond monsters. How could such a voice and song come from so a vile beast? "Will I be able to summon the sparrows, too?" I utter with resolve not to go into heaving fits, yet again.
He smiles a terrifying parody of a smile. "Yes, Little Sparrow, that and more for a very, very long time."
Afterward:
So long ago that was, when the white man first started to come to this land. The white man, heh, not really that many around here, sometimes. Quite amusing, actually. I remember my journey to Oklahoma, when they moved all of the so-called "Red Faces" there. Such a tragedy they are, always drunk and out of touch with their totems. Even this city has more spirit force. That, and there are not as many of those damned Lupines that hate me just for being what I am. And, this city with all of its underground havens and vitae supply tends to grow on you after about seventy years or so. And my true tribe is here. My tribe of the cursed, and I am its chief. And rats are almost as friendly as sparrows…