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A small child stands next to a pile of rubble crying. The sound of it tugs at my heart and I cannot keep myself from stopping. The young boy probably hasn’t yet reached his second hand of life but no one is with him. He is staring at one of the piles of rubble with a bowed head.
“Child, where are your parents?” I ask, kneeling at his side.
“I don’t know,” he says, not looking up. “Momma was inside.”
Gada. I do not have time for this but I must. Tajss forgive my distraction.
I look around but there is so much confusion. Rescue crews haven’t made it this far out yet and there is no knowing when they will.
“I will help,” I say.
He looks up meeting my eyes for the first time. His lip trembles as he nods. Knowing that too much time has probably already passed I set to work, digging into the rubble. I am no fool. I know the odds of finding anyone alive in here are miniscule, but I must try.
As I toss aside broken pieces of what was once this child’s home my thoughts drift. I want children. What would a child of Gwen and mine look like? Is it even possible? Can a human have an Urr’ki baby? I imagine different ways our two species might procreate and it occupies my mind while I work.
“Uk’el!” a booming female voice yells.
“Momma?” the child yells in response.
Uk’el is looking around trying to find his mother. She breaks free of a crowd partially down the street and runs. She grabs her child up into her arms, squeezing him tight. He has his arms wrapped around her and they hug and hug. I emerge from the rubble of the home dusting myself off.
“Thank you,” she says.
I clasp her arm as I smile.
“I am glad you are safe.”
She nods, tears forming in her eyes. I leave her to her child. As I walk my steps feel lighter. It was mostly chance and circumstance, but not finding that mother dead, seeing her reunited with her child creates at least a sliver of hope.
Not just that….
No. It’s her. Gweneth is hope, but how do I even approach a change in our relationship? Shaking my head I sigh and force myself to focus. I have a task to do and letting my thoughts wander down endless permutations of a problematic future that we will probably not be alive for is a waste of time.
The spring in my step doesn’t stay. How can it when all I see and feel around me is desperation? I growl and move faster. This is not how it’s supposed to be. Even as we lost ground and retreated to this final bastion, the Queen held out hope. The Shaman offers only despair. A familiar sense of melancholy comes over me. The numbness to which I had retreated before Gweneth.
She is the conundrum of my life now, but I will not focus on that. Right now I must find Mazabuta. I turn a corner going towards his house. As soon as I do I growl seeing two Maulavi on the street ahead.
One of them is a large and hulking, the other is scrawny. Their robes are coated in dust and filth. The hulking one has splotches on his sleeve that might be blood, dried or otherwise. They are leaving Mazabuta’s house and neither of them look happy. The smaller one is talking to the bigger who nods moving his entire upper body when he does.
They are walking towards me and in a rare instance of bad luck the street is mostly empty. There is no crowd for me to blend in with and avoid detection. Forcing myself to stop sneering I square my shoulders and stride forward, full of intention and purpose.
The Maulavi march closer, still deep in conversation with one another. The smaller one is animatedly angry, barking, and grumbling about limitations being placed on them and how they should be allowed to do what they must. The larger one grunts and mumbles off and on but doesn’t seem to really be paying attention. His eyes are on me.
I avoid eye contact not wanting to initiate an unintentional challenge. Staring at the street until we’re almost past each other. Right when I think that nothing will happen the large one grabs my shoulder.
“You,” he growls. “Where are you going?”
They just left Mazabuta’s home, which is my destination too, but if I say so it will arouse suspicion and scrutiny that I don’t want. I growl, pushing rage away. An answer, I need an answer.
“I am helping,” I say.
The smaller Maulavi shifts his weight around while looking annoyed.
“Helping with what?” he asks, his eyes narrowing.
“Come on, we have to report,” the scrawny one says in his whining voice.
“I was tasked to inspect damage and report back,” I lie.
