Crumbled Crane
A brainfart during a horrid night with no sleep
Crumbled Crane
I sigh, hands trembling a little as I set down the perfectly folded crane on the desk. A mound of crumbled papers sit next to it. Quickly, I place it into a large glass jar before it can disintegrate. The jar itself is already filled to the brim. The lid pops into place and I sweep the desk clean with my hand. The paper falls neatly into a bin. I made six more today.
I stretch, hands over my head with a groan emanating from my throat. My back creaks and pops several times till I jolt up from a spike of pain in my lower back. I let out a long sigh, the pain subsiding. I trail my fingers along the smooth scars on my lower back while I gaze around me room. Just like home with a touch of 'human modern-look.' The entire purpose was to send good will to our race. It's nice, I suppose, with the climate control, though it only works with cool air. I'll have to clean out the fireplace for winter or have him do it. A quick glance out the window and I spot the sun setting beyond the village. I let out a low groan, I need to make deliveries again. It's difficult to move but I gotta survive somehow.
I adjust my shorts and make sure my fur skirt is in order. A quick prod on the switch and the lights cut out.
Stepping out with the door shutting behind me, the night is still young and the tribe is still lively at the village surrounded by a stone wall. I can see the center square from my hill, lots of forms bustling about like the sun is still out.
I send a quick glance at the herb garden before grabbing a nearby woven basket loaded pre-picked herbs left to dry. I then quickly trot down the hill towards the village. Only a mere seventy or eighty people live here but to me, it looks like hundreds.
Like my own home, all the buildings around me are a mix of our traditional huts with the touch of human "modernization." Although it's convenient, it feels more like a prison sometimes. My trot slows to a walk as I walk past the wooden gates. The guards try to avoid staring, I know them each though hardly personally. They often come for a pick-me-up and I let gossipers take it as they will. The villagers in the end need me and I in turn need them.
I can't hunt and farming by itself pains me horridly, especially when I have no helping hands. I come into the village with herbs, spices, and medicine in exchange for food or ingredients. I ended up becoming virtually everyone's friend or so it seems.
"Evening, Akimu," calls one villager as I pass. My ears perk up and I wave back, a smile forming on my lips.
"Atleast put a top on when you visit," whistles another.
"How would you enjoy the eye-candy," I a question at them before hurrying along.
I turn right and enter the building to my left. The general store is still open at these forsaken hours, not that I mind but it's the owner I'm worried about.
A fair female gray wolf dressed with more fur than cloth to keep her cubs warm in her belly.
"You should get plenty of rest, Rava," my voice carrying worry as I set the basket on the counter, "you'll need all your strength when you gift us with more little ones."
"The same could be said to you, prancing around on a cold night with only your bottoms," she smiles gently, "it's just like you to worry more about other's health. You see, my mate needed rest from the work. I snuck some of the leaves you gave me to lull him to sleep."
"He's only worried about his you and the cubs. It's his first time fathering," I reach over and pat her stomach. I feel a bit of a jolt, "oh, one of them kicked!" My tail twitches excitedly as Rava laughs.
"Before I 'prance' off, I concocted a brew to keep the worst of winter away," I reach into the saddlebag and pull out a small bottle, no bigger than a large fist. I put it on the counter and two more like it, "a bit extra for the little ones."
Rava's eyes widen, "but Akimu, there are more villagers than just me and my mate!" She pushes the two extra away, "there are more people that need this than us."
I nod, "I know but I can only make so many. I want something to come out of this winter." I smile, indirectly forcing her to accept, "the usual payment please."
Rava nods as she moves slowly out to the back and I follow.
"Do you think your back can handle it? I can call for a helper," Rava asks as she grabs a human container filled with sliced meat. She slides it into a small pack filled with paper. Though it doesn't look heavy, I have more things to carry later.
"Don't worry, Rava, I can handle it. Besides, no helper wants to assist the Shaman. Why do you think I live on the outskirts," I chuckle darkly. I surprise even myself sometimes. Slinging the pack over my free shoulder I bid Rava farewell and head to my next destination.
I definitely feel the pressure now on my lower back. The broken bones threatening to stab me slowly. What remains of my fused spine grinding and creaking whenever I twist and bend. It doesn't hurt in all honesty until I run, dance, or lift. I shrug it off, next stop is the inn.
A rather young red fox is scribbling down in a book at the front desk.
"Yaj," I call out out to get his attention. I set the herb basket on the desk and push it to him, "I brought the medicine Makkha needs. How is she feeling?"
"Still the same. Bedridden with a fever and severe cough. Passing headaches too," Yaj sighs. I dig into the saddle bag and place a bottle next to the basket.
"No mates yet, huh," I tease, wanting to lift the mood.
"If I wanted one, I could get one anytime," Yaj retorts, though his words stumbles out past his tongue.
"I used to think that way too, until I became the Shaman," I smile as I lean against the tabletop,"there was only one person that saw past that title." My tail twitches in excitement just thinking about him too.
I pay a visit to several more homes, mostly the sick or elderly, to hand out more warming brew.
There's only one bottle left, which is for me. I grunt as I carry the now heavy pack uphill. The sky is brightening up as well, signaling dawn. I whine loudly to myself when I see the tip of the sun emerging in a bright flash of orange-red. I'll just sleep all day today, no point in picking herbs when my back burns like fire ant bites. I've gotten my fair share of that as well, the idea of them crawling under my fur makes me cringe.
"You're back," I hear his familiar voice, "that looks heavy, let me help."
A smile flashes onto my lips, ears perking in excitement. My heart races as I gaze up...
But nobody was there. My mind played a trick on me. My entire body slumps. I heave on a sigh before moving on.
The door creaks loudly as I enter. The home I love so much isn't the same.
I open the pack and grab the box of meat. It should last months frozen atleast thanks to the icebox. I open the strange rectangle that hums constantly. Human made objects are weird but so convenient!
My body feels sore from the exercise. It's disappointing that barely any exertion makes me pant like a madman. My fingers jab at the light switch and I slump into bed. The bed creaks, the soft mattress supports my weak frame just enough to keep my back from snapping out of place. The silk blanket keeps me nice and warm, especially with the shift of weather, though it takes longer to warm up by myself.
Sleep comes slowly and as soon as I felt myself drifting off, I snap back awake with the sun rising through the windows.
I wipe my wet eyes; I cried again in my sleep, huh.
I do a quick survey of my hut, eyes stopping on the large glass jar filled with perfectly folded cranes. I groan and push myself off the bed. I carefully grab the cranes I left on the table and, one by one, place them in the jar. I'm just one shy from two thousand. I never thought myself as the superstitious type, especially involving wishes. Yet, here I am with a jar of folded cranes after hearing that folding one thousand granted me any wish.
Honestly, I don't have the heart or will to fold the last one. Not anymore. My feet shuffle back to bed and the blanket wrap around me. I'm not sure if I even need two thousand, he made me a promise after all. He'll come back alive, he has to or I'll punch him in the afterlife when the Goddess takes me.
A knock on the door rouses me from my sleep. It comes again and my ears swivel to it.
"Yes, I'm coming," my voice almost fails me, feet dragging across the floor. The locks slide open and the door clicks.
The sun blinds me, making me blink several times when I try to focus. My nose instantly catches the familiar scent.
"You lost weight," Lark says.
I freeze when I hear his voice. My eyes have easily deceived me before, my hands reach out to touch his face. Pulling at his cheek, testing his fur, lifting his lips, and tugging at his ears.
"You're here," I ask just to be sure.
"Yeah, I-," He tries to explain himself. A loud crack hits my ears as my palm strikes his cheek. The large wolf doesn't even flinch. I slap him again. And again. And again!
I feel tears soaking my face again. My hands burn from the slaps, making me ball them up. I throw all my might and send a fist to his gut. Lark only grunts quietly and before I can repeat, he grabs my hands.
"Three months," I almost shriek with my choked up voice.
"Akimu, I-," He tries to talk.
"You said only two days," I continue, "two days and you'll be back!"
"Listen," He yells. I lock up, my body refusing my commands, "I'm home." My feet move automatically and Lark follows me inside.
The door shuts behind Lark. My feet continue to the bed where a strong hand grips my arm while another delicately wipes my tears away.
A muffled thump behind me tells me he unlatched his hunting gear. I feel his bare chest against my back, the muscular wolf's hand pressing my chin until I look up at his shining blue eyes.
"You lost weight," He whispers.
"S-shut up! It's your fault," I could barely answer back.
"Have you been eating right."
"I suppose not," I shake my head as we sit on the bed. He insists on me sitting on his lap and I could do nothing but comply. My entire weight sinks onto him but he doesn't seem to care.
"You don't stink like you usually do," I note when my nose presses on his chest fur.
"I bathe, i don't need your help to do something so simple," He retorts, "if anything, I should be asking you why you were still in bed."
"Shut up, let me enjoy being cozy," I growl loudly.
"I never took you for the kind to be lazy," Lark teases. He shifts down until we both lay in bed, my small frame pressed against his. My ear twitches every time his breath passes over it. We remain silent for some time until I hear quiet snoring. It must've been some time since he's slept in a proper bed. My hand caresses his arm, legs locked around his. I can't get up since he has an iron tight hold on me, not like I want to anyways.
Movement wakes me from my sleep. Lark had slipped the blanket over me when I woke. He left a pleasant warmth under the blanket and I can hear him shuffling about. Judging by the basket, he must be heading into the village to make deliveries for me. Back to the usual system I suppose.
I hadn't noticed the throb in my head until now. A dull ache and a strange stiffness in my joints. I must be falling for some illness again. Not surprising though, I'll let him know when he gets back. I shut my eyes when Lark comes to view. Sensing the wolf come over, I remain stock-still and control my breathing. He plants a kiss on my forehead and heads out, door shutting quietly.
Against my better judgement, I push myself up and onto my feet. My body begs me to lay back down. My skin tingles in the warm air, the room is bathed in an orange light from the fireplace in the corner. I often overlook it since we never use it until winter. The glass jar filled with perfect cranes sit on my desk. My feet shuffle to it and I grab hold, popping the lid off. A human superstition often told to children is that if you fold one thousand perfect cranes, you'll be granted a wish.
During the three months of sheer panic from worry, I folded one thousand nine hundred and ninety-nine of these cranes. I wanted to wish for Lark's safe return, and that he'd never leave me again. It's selfish, childish too, I won't deny it but I love him. In all the days I- we've known each other, we have yet to see the true depths of our feelings. We dive deeper and deeper and will probably never find the bottom.
The flames reflect on the glass, making it glow a red-orange. I tip the jar until one by one the contents pill out into the fire. I can feel the glass heating up and my fur starting to singe a little from the heat of the fire. It flares up with each crane that disintegrates in its maw. I quickly pull away, slamming the glass on my table to inspect my hands. The fur is burnt with some smoke trailing from my finger tips. The skin is raw but no real damage.
My body gives out and I ask with my hands for the table to help me. Right, I'm ill now, that small effort is enough to almost knock me out cold. I barely hear the door open and hands catching me as I topple.
"Akimu," Lark shakes me back to consciousness.
"Ughn...," I groan loudly, "not so rough..." I feel a gust of wind followed by soft fabric. The bed is still warm and cozy.
"Should've told me you were sick," Lark mutters more to himself than anything. My ears barely register the clatter of dishes followed by another fire brought to life.
I smile, I'm still diving and I hope it never ends.
To be Continued?