Chapter Text
The Tighnarian race are known historically to prosper within the lands of the great sand. Our ancestors were depicted as the most loyal followers of the Great King Deshret of the Red Sands, jumping through large hoops and outsmarting enemies with their wit. They were the embodiment of a perfected species- human and animal -built to live in the heat and thrive on the attention of the knowledgeable lord.
My parents use to tell me that our ancestors used to bear light clothes on their skin to match the lighter shades on their fur. Speckles of milk chocolate hair pooling down our backs, where the spine connected with the tail joint. It could be better described as waterfalls of dry blood in the sand pouring down. A perfect replica of the sandy domain itself. Much different from centuries later where we now match the scenery of the forest biome.
In my wonderous eyes, I would always attempt to imagen myself with a different fur color besides green. I never quite got the image right, so I stopped after a long while. At times when I'd stare at myself between the ripples of the pond near my backyard, I would question if I stayed out on the sun long enough I would begin growing a lighter shade of green and build a resistance against the heat. Obviously that never happened but...
"Agh! A mistflower could... really melt in this heat... wouldn't it?" Feet like jelly, it made it difficult to climb over the uneven sand scaling upwards. I could be convinced I was reaching to touch the sun the higher I climbed. It sure felt like it. Maybe I would smell like a boiled asparagus by the end of the day if I kept this up. Momentarily, I stopped to take a breather in hopes I would catch some cool air into my lungs. Alas, I was delusional, instead ending up choking on stray bits of sand that I inhaled too close to the uneven floor. "I mean they wouldn't but... I bet they would if I carried one over. Maybe I should invest in bringing some next time."
"They will melt the second you step foot out of Caravan Ribat--"
"By the Archons!" I tripped- which was less of an actual trip and more of a collapse -onto the floor beneath me and inadvertently breathed in more of that dreadful soil. I was practically one with the desert at this point. One with the forest? No. More like one with the sand. My ancestors-- I could hear them tutting at my misfortune. I bet they would say something along the lines of 'we were followers of the Great King, dedicating our whole lives for our lord, and you cannot handle a meager hill ten klicks away from town? Where has this generation gone wrong?' Yeah well I don't see you giving me any ancestry help staving off the heat with whatever genes helped in the past. You're just as useless as a normal hat would fit in my head. Stupid ghosts.
I finally had enough air within my system to begin clambering out of the pile of sand I dug myself in. Staggering, I turned over to glare at whatever smug bastard was attempting to commit suffocation against me. Low and behold it was the one person no regular scholar would dare want to be in the company with. Yet I wasn't normal because I could not gather the energy to curse up a storm or grovel at the feet of this particular authoritive figure.
The figure in question raised a placid eyebrow. "I was not aware you did not hear me come up from behind." Because of course you catch the newly acquainted General Mahamatra multiple times sneaking up on you, the one time you don't will be the only time he will hang it over your head. Sometimes I wonder if he does in on purpose... surely not.
"Haha. Very funny, General." I rolled my eyes. I adjusted my footing once I began realizing my feet were sinking again. "What do I owe for the great and terrifying General to grace me with his presence? Oh let me guess-" I feigned a thinking face with a hand touching my chin, "-was I reported under suspicion of influencing our students with receiving greater grades? Was it the too-large study groups I would arrange? Is hosting tutoring sessions now deemed illegal?"
Cyno frowned. "You know better than anyone any reports handed over to me are reports I will not take lightly." If I squinted hard enough I could almost imagine he was pouting under that ridiculous black cloak he wore everywhere. And out in this heat? I deeply wonder how his bare feet haven't left any burn marks. Sands are prone to conserve the heat that the sun would give. Didn't they teach you in general courses first year the theory of colors and how it effected the environment around you? Why wasn't he wearing white like the rest of us normies? Would he let me prod at his feet if I asked politely enough?
"I still find it ridiculous your superiors found it odd that someone with decent manners was helping out his peers in passing a couple of exams."
"Your decent manners is what put you on a watch list. Not very decent if you asked me."
I hummed, proceeding to turn around and analyze the hill of sand standing before me. Still daunting as ever. The sun surprisingly passed over, creating a shadow on the hill indicating it would be late soon. "I'll ask next time then." Then I made the motion that the conversation was over by continuing to scale upwards. The sand continued to work against me, leaving me sweaty and feel like I would eat the soil beneath me for dinner. Cyno, the bastard that he was, had an easier time walking up, keeping pace with my pathetic self. Ancestors, why must have we left our roots in order to thrive in the forest? I would have had a much easier time climbing up this stupid domain. I could've done noteworthy jumps like a fennec fox, the elegance of a ballerina with every step I'd take. But no, I'm here two steps away from dying in this heat. Two seconds away from simply giving up on the notion of my project. I bet Amura was having a much simpler time studying the rust on those busted mechs elsewhere in Sumeru.
I'm here on the short end of the stick.
"Where are you headed?" Cyno asked.
"Off to the Valley of Dahri down the canyon. My project is in need of samples from there."
Momentarily, I heard him pause behind me. Then he reached for my wrist, catching me off-guard once again and nearly falling backwards. It would be a horrible time to collapse in the sand once more. I was three trips away from leaving myself to die in the desert by my own accordance.
"Follow me, I'll escort you there myself. I know a much easier route however it'll take us much longer to get there." He insisted, ever so soft and caring. His hand gave away a different kind of warmth from the sun, however I didn't bother to put much thought into why.
"Then take me," I murmured. Unsure how else to describe it. His hold tightened for a second before dragging me down the sandy hill I made valiant effort in climbing. It felt less damning than before when my pride was on the line and I promised myself to rest after I reached the top. Now, I wasn't so sure where all that pride went.
One fourth of the night had passed when we finally reached an oasis.
As predicted when it came to the desert, the sand reflected the temperature of the surface that met the sky. Unbearable heat in the day, unbearably cold within the night. At some point within our walk did Cyno stop to offer me his black cloak. I didn't have it in me to reject the offer, just simply glad for any help that would ensure my survival without the expense of others. I used it to conserve as much warmth as possible while hugging my tail as close to my body as I could. To the heavens and back, the forest was never this cold either. Chilly at best with the humidity that was always trapped within the trees. Never cold enough to faintly see your own breath.
Cyno, in all of his skin-tight and revealing armored glory, did not seem at all bothered by the temperature change. He made a motion to stop while reaching the oasis. I was grateful for the break, absolutely convinced that my feet were about dislocate from around the ankles. I dropped on my knees right next to a tree, the fruits hanging high above me. I didn't even bother to reach for them. I just needed a drink and an arse-load of rest.
"Refill your canteen here. We will rest until the three-fourths hour mark on the moon settles in the sky. From there we will continue on our journey up north and we will reach the edges of the canyons before the first half of the morning. We'll manage to climb down to the valley by early evening. Any questions?" Cyno described in full detail. Figures the General Mahamatra would know the sands so deeply that he could estimate a travel distance by foot and hourly time management. I would kill to have the knowledge that he holds.
"No sir," I replied.
"Sleep now, I'll keep watch." The conversation ended from his end. I didn't even get to answer back when Cyno abruptly left to assumedly refill his own canteen as well. I rolled my eyes at the sight of his blunt yet inept attempt of a friendly tour guide. With his knowledge he would make good mora out of the business endeavor. 'However, with his lack of social practices...' I could feel laughter attempt to bubble up within my dry throat, but fail to fall out. 'He would lose more costumers just by simply his stare alone.'
I refilled my water supply and ate a half of a sandwich that I saved up. I carefully laid on the bark of the tree and curled myself forward to preserve the rest of the heat within my body and using the cloak as a blanket of sorts. From there I closed my eyes and mourned how I would surely feel the sand somehow find a way to dig itself within my ears a few hours from now.
"--ke up. Tighnari. Wake up."
I blearily opened my eyes to a soft voice nudging me out of my restful state. I haven't dreamt in years but I bet I would be just as mad as back then if I were woken up from a good dream. I always kicked up a fuss as a kit whenever my dreams were interrupted. I could vaguely remember most of them involved dancing in the forest, bare foot, with little aranaras and a little girl my age holding my hand. I wondered when I had exactly stopped dreaming altogether.
"Wha-? What ha... Is it time to keep walking?" I asked, a deep rumble in my voice. I swear I heard a crack. I haven't done that since the start of puberty.
"Not yet."
"Then why was I--" I was interrupted with an oomph. A heavy weight dropped on my stomach and I was left to fumble and stare incuriously at the object laid before me. It squeaked in outrage but the sound muffled by my cloak. It was distinct though and I knew immediately what it was.
"Cyno."
"Yes?"
"Why did you bring a Fennec Fox here? You know they're native to these lands, right?" And Archons so help him if Cyno made a familial-cousin joke about it. He would gladly turn himself in for the murder of the esteemed General Mahamatra and write down in explicit detail about how he single-handedly knocked down the young man of white hair and great strength by simply clawing him to death. He could do it. His family held on to the strongest genes by their large ears to their canine teeth and insatiable hunger for meat. (On that note, could he take a nibble out of the corpse of the dead and digest it similar to any other meat? He was not as human as the relative population that overpowered Tyvat.)
"Of course," the other nodded along factually. "However, this one is injured. I was wondering if your kind held knowledge extended over to animal-care."
...
He could not be serious.
"Of my kind?"
Cyno frowned. "Yes."
He was serious. And here I thought better of him. I guess we all have our flaws, don't we?
"Cyno--" I gripped the edges of his cloak, ready to throw it away at a moment's notice should the conversation reach bigotry territory that I had hoped to never reach with the one person I trusted. "--Just because I am a fox and this animal here is a fox does not equate to us being similar in any way. It's not as simple as to identify us as a human fucking an animal and a new hybrid comes into play--"
"No," Cyno hurriedly raised his hands in a placating manner, "I meant of Amurta scholars. To your kind; the scholarly kind. Scholars that study in the field of biology. That kind."
I pinched myself at the bridge of my nose. The anger that flared within a moment's notice would've been quick to overflow had I thought any deeper into it. So I didn't. Instead I wondered how far had this man misspoke to hundreds of other scholars and they assumed the worst. Perhaps too many to count, and I wasn't going to give Cyno the satisfaction in knowing that I was seconds away from chewing his head right off. I rolled my eyes deep and could feel a headache just from the action alone. The animal beneath me squeaked in a struggle to climb out of the cloak I draped over it; unsuccessful. It let out a pitiful whine.
"Think more closely before you speak next time," I muttered, "I thought for a second you were another simpleton believing that's how biology worked."
Cyno had the decency to look abashed and ashamed by his poor choice of words at least. The reflection of the moon behind him cast an overshadow obscuring his features, none of it affecting me since I could see well in the dark. "I apologize. It was not my intention. I am aware you get enough of it back in the akademiya."
"Do I, now?" I humored his response without fail. I shook my head at the ridiculous apprehension I held beforehand at the general before turning my attention over to the fox. I pawed at the lump in my lap before I adjusted myself to sit up right and lift up the cloak. It was better to change the subject before anymore unresolved tension on my end would come out to play and the General paying the price of it. I could deal with the rest of these feelings and quick assumptions on a later date when I wasn't drenched in sandy sweat even in the middle of the night. "What's the status of this fennec?"
"A ways away from the oasis I left to hunt for scorpions nearby. I noticed them surrounding this fox, and I made the choice to save it. It would do no good to hunt the scorpions for their meat and leaving the fox to die."
I hummed in response. Already I could see scrapes and swollen areas where the fennec was likely pinched or scratched. I wouldn't know if the creature was at risk of infection, but based on the dirt clinging to the fur and mixing itself with dry specks of blood, I could safely conclude that yes it would. I untied the satchel that hung on my shoulders and opened the contents inside. Unfortunately I didn't bring much of anything-- the space was supposed to be reserved for the samples I would need to carry back --but thankfully I wasn't woefully unprepared for anything to happen in the Land of Sands. I still had a bit of lunch left to carry me for the rest of my journey and a small medical kit. Living in the forest left you to be prepared for any and no dangers you may face, after all.
I used my canteen to bathe the poor creature before shuffling both the fennec and the cloak towards the edge of the water. They eagerly shimmied over to lap up anything it could. From where my hands held firmly onto the smaller body, I could imagine it was of young age. Skinny through the bones, but not quite glaring visible. 'Perhaps they're the runt of their family. It's a miracle I wouldn't feel their lungs through their ribs just yet. Poor thing left to die at the hands of those scorpions.' Careful not to aggravate the wounds, I looked over my supplies and used a small amount of oil on any swollen or pink areas. A couple of cuts littered as well, but none severe enough to warrant bandages. I used a different salve to gently run it over the injuries. The fennec began fussing at the notion, biting my finger as if I was made of fragile flesh.
"Come now," I murmured under my breath, "you wouldn't like the results of an early demise, now would you? Sit still." Relentless, it tried to crawl away with one of their injured paws. It did not even manage to escape my grasp before collapsing onto the floor. I could empathize with the act of digging its snout onto the sandy floor and struggling to shake away the soil from its nose. I picked it up anyway and dropped them on my lap, uncaring of the outraged whine it let out. If it was one sure thing I knew about kits it was that they were extremely vocal and fussy. From their ears alone I could tell they were simply impatient being held by my hand. Well so-rry for attempting to keep you alive per request of the General Mahamatra himself.
I could feel Cyno's intense gaze over my shoulder. I would not be able to gouge any emotion coming from him easily, but under abnormal circumstances, I thought I could faintly smell worry from him right now. It did me no good if I could be distracted by his scent. The pungent smell of the sands clung to his form under the few months that we got to know each other better. Sometimes it changed or it would shift to another smell, telling a story of his whereabouts without myself needing to ask. Sometimes I could smell spices or dust, but those were surface-level scents that would be washed away with time. However most of the time the scent stayed the same. He was just everywhere and anywhere all at once.
"Why don't you try your hand in holding the fennec?" I offered, carefully picking up the cloak and leaving the fox to be carried within the center of the article. It did them no well trying to dig towards the middle as if they could rip the cloak open with their claws alone. Amusedly, I kept the cloak up in the air just to watch them struggle. Such a stubborn thing indeed. I peered over at the other. "I'm sure you'll have a better shot settling it down since it allowed you to carry it all the way here."
Cyno seemed a tad hesitant to try.
I narrowed my eyes. "It's your responsibility after all. You're the one who had a bleeding heart for this poor thing."
Certainly placated, he carefully traced his hands over the cloak and carefully carried it over his chest. "She. The fox is a she."
"Sure thing," I nodded along. It was actually a male, but I wasn't about to reveal to the General Mahamatra that he missed the smaller 'tail' tucked under the larger one. I stood up from my spot and stretched my body out as much as I could, letting a tiresome yawn escape my lips while letting my back pop satisfyingly. I shook away any remains of sand off my fur and face before bending over to pick up my supplies.
A cough garnered from behind me and I looked over to ensure Cyno was alright. He was busy staring down at the fennec that had settled comfortably in his broad chest, rubbing their snout animatedly all over Cyno. Cheeky thing.
"That should be rest of it. The salve will need to be washed off by the end of the day and apply a new fresher batch once more. By tomorrow most cuts and bruises should heal well enough that they can stand on their own once again," I instructed. The older figure nodded along while keeping their gaze trained on the resident mammal. They were so focused on the fennec I was partially charmed to see metaphorical stars gleam under his red eyes. On that particular note, the shade of red reminded me much of the Mourning Flowers.
"I'll carry them for the rest of our journey," Cyno vowed, closing his eyes in a moment of prayer between himself and the fox. The moon lightened his features much more brighter, his white hair matching that of the moon if I stared at the similarities long enough. It sounded much less dramatic in my head, but the other man was anything but that.
"You will?" I asked, enamored by his display of dedication. Or perhaps it was humor.
He shrugged, turning away to face the trail I dreaded to continue traveling for the next couple of hours. "It's my responsibility."
We reached the edge of the canyons by mid morning just as Cyno predicted. Peering down at the alley, I could see the great distance of height between where I stood and where I would fall should I take a wrong step against the uncertain terrains of sand. The breeze was gentle and the sun hadn't set forth to blaze the world with its heated rays just yet. Blessedly, it was an overall peaceful trip even if we momentarily stopped to accommodate for the needs of a runt kit.
We slowly descended at a tactical pace, Cyno commenting offhandedly how many newcomers to the Land of Sands would believe that rolling down the steep hills would be faster than running downwards. "Many of them," he would pet the large ears of our runt napping away on his chest, "are the people I tend to track down. You have no idea how many of them would run in circles after reaching down the hill. They would think they have the time to get rid of any dizzy spells before we reached them." While true, I barked out a laugh at the ridiculous idea anyway. It was easy to lay down and roll over any small hill, but large steep hills? There were many factors you'd want to be aware of before attempting to even think about beforehand. It's easy to lose your momentum and once you start rolling down you won't be able to stop. There's the land terrain to think about; would you happen to inhale too much sand in the midst of your roll? Would you happen to roll off-course? Would you hit on a stone on the way down? Simply put, I would rather lose any rights to my identity than to be chased down a hill and think up the greatest escape scheme is to curl up in a ball and roll down. My fur would not forgive me for that.
The heat slowly creeped up but the shadows of the canyons helped fight off any view of the sun. I took my time to survey the empty lands surrounding me, taking note of the lack of... well, anyone, hanging around these parts. No howls or gurgling roars to echo off the crumbling walls. Not a caw or an odd 'eep' from the two-legged mushrooms that tended to wander anywhere within the lands of Sumeru. Unconsciously, my ear twitched in search of any living noise. Not that I would find any, but the animalistic instinct persisted throughout my walk.
Peering over at the Ruin Guard ominously hanging down, the feeling persisted in my chest that I was being watched. Insisting to drop everything and run. But the logical, incredulous, side asked where the heck would I even run off to. The 'eye' located at the center has been documented by many scholars before my time that it was broken and well off dead. Tied up by the largest roots growing out the sands and stuck between the canyons, no greater weight would let it collapse fully. Suspended by both air and the fabrication of time. By all means it would never turn back on again. And besides, I would attempt to convince myself, no one is stupid enough to try and revive this old thing anyway.
So I stuck to myself staring up at the dead mech before moving closer to the arm perched close to a pile of rocks. Large and difficult to place my footing on, but not entirely impossible for a mediocre climber to accomplish. From there I made the wise deduction that yes I can indeed climb this thing, and scaled upwards until hand met metal rust. Ungracefully, but it got the job done. I wasn't here to impress anyone.
"Where exactly does your project involve a giant mech, Tighnari?" Cyno, far from below, called out impassively. Probing in a matter that I wouldn't have picked up right away from anyone else if they didn't work closely with the Mahamatra. But of course, Cyno had a way of being blaringly obvious without much effort. I commend him for not caring to be subtle in the slightest.
I responded in kind, keeping my focus on the dents where the mech's arm left on the soil by my feet. "Just here in the desert! A joint project focusing on the corrasion between the mechs involving different environments. It's confirmed throughout many other fields of research that different environments can carry weight to preservation of a certain being, but I'm more focused in the idea whether how an invasive item can impact the environment as a whole. Case and point; the mechs laying around Sumeru. What sort of impact do they leave, and how can it benefit from its environment?" Because Archons forbid someone came up with the idea to critically destroy these giant artifacts of destruction or move them out. They've laid inactive for centuries, anyone with a sensible brain would agree that it would do worse for the environment as a whole to forcibly remove them after many years of adaption towards their standstill presence.
Frowning, I carefully peered up at the 'eye' again. To think that these giants were a regular presence centuries behind the Archon War and many more centuries before that. It astounded me to ponder just how normal these machines were viewed in the past compared to the future. When the mech of the present are now deemed a mindless threat and a danger to populated areas.
Shaking my head, I forced myself to focus on my research and gather samples easy enough to carry in a bag. Anything else could be sketched out and copied later into a larger parchment of paper. Any and all burning thoughts of a historical past could be studied later under the House of Daena, where facts could be differentiated from opinion.
"Are you sure you wouldn't want to keep them? For someone small their size, even with a healed scrape, they wouldn't make it far off the desert. They'll inevitably die without a parent to look after them; they're still too young to wonder off on their own." Looking over at the starving kit salivating all over the General Mahamatra's fingers, leaving behind no traces of beef jerky that were previously held in those same hands, it left me with a sense of pity and unknown thrill running through my lungs. I noted the feeling had something to do with a sense of adoration for any animal receiving the care needed to survive. And probably because the kit was in the hands of Cyno himself, though I couldn't pinpoint as to why just yet.
"My work strictly leaves me no time to look after her. I'm bound to let her go when the time arrives." Cyno responded, more or less avoiding from meeting my eye.
I scoffed, "That still doesn't mean you should drop them off here. Why not look into animal shelters or places that fennec foxes are more prone to staying outside of theses sands? I'm sure there are far nicer places that are accepting of wild animals without disturbing their natural instincts."
Our trudge back towards civilization was as unremarkable as watching paint dry. The heat unbearable as any other day, but nonetheless easy to ignore after a drink of cold water. It was amazing to notice how much easier it was to bear the sun on the way back home than it was when I first started my journey here. To end the evening on a good note, I hadn't even faced much trouble with the expert of the dunes, Cyno. With the dry wind tickling my ears, it took me a moment of delay to realize that the man in question froze behind me. I stumbled in my effort to turn around and face him.
"Are you alright, General?"
"Yes." The answer sounded forced out. "Do you know of any locals willing to look after her while I'm gone? I won't be able to visit often, but I'm willing to check in on her progress as she continues to grow."
A momentary pause in stride, I pondered over the question. Surfing through any knowledge of the neighborhoods friendly towards foxes, I could only circle back to one answer. "My folks would be more than agreeable to take care of the kit if I asked. Would you be open to that?"
Something in the way that the General gazed at me left me to almost question if I said something wrong, but it wasn't long before he covered up that strange expression with something in resemblance of a tiny smile. "I would be very accepting of it."
The journey continued onwards and I was more than satisfied with how the day passed by. Heatstroke or not.
Standing in the front steps of my shared residence with my parents, I leaned on the porch in a disheveled state. The kit in my arms refused to be cooperative, but the scent of Cyno lingering in the cloak left them placated enough to not jump out of my arms. My shoulders ached from the materials hanging inside my bag and my feet sorely burnt from the amount of sand somehow making its way home between my socks and toes. The kit perked up from underneath the rough material and eyed the carved door standing between us and the cool air indoors. I could pick up the humming of my sweet grandmother mixing dishes on the stove, more than likely making a feast for my awaiting return. All else was empty in the cramped home carved from wood and stone slabbed together between vines and root.
I carefully carded my fingers between the kit's large ears, earning a pleased coo from him before he reluctantly settled between the folds of the cloak once more.
"How in the Archon's name do I explain this to my parents?"