Trinket (Reverse Harem)

On Being Nothing

We had to find the others. My heart cried for them. I touched the Trinket in my other hand. I'd know if they were dead, right? That's how it worked?

Was that how it worked? I couldn't recall that being how it worked, except something told me that's how it worked.

Wishful thinking.

Itek was purring.

The rain stopped after I don't know how long, and Itek and I waited, and morning eventually came, the sky turning orange behind us as the clouds lifted and drifted away.

I stood up, Itek still nestled into the borrow of sand and grass we'd hollowed out, and I dusted the sand off my ass before climbing to the top of the dune.

"Nothing," I said, despairing. The island we'd landed on was small enough that I could see the other side of it in the distance, and the southern edge of it to my left. I couldn't see the northern tip, but I sensed it wasn't far away either. So from here I could see everything: just a dune-tumbled, grassy thing interspersed with large, churned-up spears of rocks that would have broken my leg if I'd tried to explore in the dark.

I still had my bag. That hadn't been torn off in the tumbling. I slid back down the dune.

Itek, still weighed down by his massive, soaking wings, blinked at me.

"I'm going to go see if I can find some rainwater," I said, glancing at my forearms: they were badly scalded from all the rain. "Something to drink."

He clucked.

"You look for... for Korr and Ethat," I said, trying not to get tearful about it. There was nothing we could do until Itek's wings dried. Until then I needed to not act like an idiot. "Like watch the sky. I know you can't fly."

He could barely move he was soaked so through. Those wings were useless, and for whatever reason he hadn't shifted back to human form. Maybe he couldn't shift with waterlogged wings. Maybe he was too exhausted. Maybe he had an injury he wasn't telling me about.

I dug out two of the waterskins from my bag and scrambled up the dune again, and headed for a cluster of rocks. With all the rain there was a good chance I could find a puddle or something.

Lucky me: I did find a deep puddle on some sandy, rocky ground. The water tasted awful and made my gums burn, and I wanted to vomit, but I managed to keep it down, and then fill both skins so I could return to Itek.

By the time I got back the sun was up and burning hot, making the sand too hot to walk on, but there was nothing but sand, so... oh well.

Itek clicked his beak and chirped as I made my way over the burning sand. He'd re-arranged himself a bit and used his beak to rake up the tough grasses into kind of a makshift nest so I didn't have to fry my ass on the burning sand when I sat next to him.

"Here," I said, offering him the waterskin. "It tastes awful, but it's better than dying."

He clicked, clearly saying we'll see about that, then reluctantly let me pour water into his beak like he was a hatchling. Except for some deep gouges in his haunch from where the bug had raked him during the flight, he didn't appear injured.

"Ouch," I said as I examined the raw wounds. He clicked, dismissing the injury.

I fiddled with my trinket, watching the sky, and waiting.

"Do you know what those things were?" I asked him.

He shook his head.

The sun was in the west—and my stomach was growling--by the time Itek stood up and stretched his wings. He walked down a bit to shake sand off his shiny pelt and then carefully stretched his wings, first one, then the other.