When a Moth loved a Bee

Girl

“ARE YOU READY TO TALK?”

My eyes ripped up to the person standing sun-framed in the parting made by two sticks holding open the bison hide. When I’d first woken in this place, I’d thought I was in the belly of a beast. Awake while being devoured.

I’d screamed and thrashed, my legs kicking off heavy fur blankets as my fists pounded at the sky.

People had come.

They’d held me down and opened my mouth.

I’d spluttered on the sour liquid they poured down my throat.

And then I was back in that forgetful fog, safe, alone…unwanted.

Four suns had risen since then, and each was easier than the last. I now knew I lay in a lupic—a shelter created by the ingenious minds of the Nhil people. They lived on the plains where no trees grew and hunted the large bison that travelled through the vast grass sea.

Every part of the beast was used, but its hide was prized most of all. It provided homes, clothes, and bedding.

Over the past few hours, my strength had finally improved enough to sit up in the furs I’d been given. I’d basked in the quiet, all while listening to the soft voices of the clan outside. My legs were still too weak to join them, so I’d sat and studied the structure.

Saplings held up the skins while vines and sinew secured them into a conical shape. A hole existed in the centre roof, allowing dense smoke from the fire, ringed in its river rocks, to escape.

The fire wasn’t lit now.

Only at night when temperatures waned.

“Do you understand me, girl?” The man stepped into the lupic. His feet weren’t bare like mine but encased in bison skin with braided reeds weaving up his legs. The fur wrapped around his legs hid his manhood while his ebony-skinned chest welcomed shadows to curl around him.

Shadows...

That word drew claws down my mind. Yet another important thing. Yet another thing I couldn’t remember.

Bowing his head, making the feathers and leaves dance in his long black hair, the man padded over the mats made of weaved rushes and sat cross-legged before me. “We’ve educated you on where you are, who we are, and what is expected of you, but you stay silent in return.” He placed his hands on his knees. “I have been patient. My people have healed you and given you food and safety. No harm has befallen you, yet you still act as if you don’t trust any of us.”

I blinked and licked my lips.

I wasn’t refusing to talk.

I’d just been…overwhelmed.

The first days were a blur of food forced down my throat and liquid poured after it. Sleep was heavy and confusion cloying. Hands touched places that had never been touched before, and my body had been bathed, healed, and tended, all while I floated in the half-life where I felt closer to something I couldn’t name.

A faceless male.

A heartmate from a dream filled with the shadows of death.

I feared for my mind.

I worried that, regardless of their kindness and care, part of me had died by that river. I’d given up. Why should I stay alive when I couldn’t remember a single thing about who and where and why.

“Your thoughts speak loudly, child.” The man smiled. “Open your lips and let some of them spill free.” Dark skin wrinkled around his eyes as he smiled deeper.

I couldn’t guess his age—he seemed both young and old, inquisitive and wise. Regardless of how many years he’d lived, he had an aura about him that spoke of power and authority. Out of all the Nhil people who had tended to me over the past few days, he was different.

He carried himself purposefully, sagely—like he knew things others did not. He stared into the fire at night when he believed I was sleeping and entered a trance that sometimes lasted until morning.

And he watched me as if he knew more about me than I ever did.

Holding his rich dark stare, I bunched the furs around my waist and licked my lips again. My bare chest seemed so sickly next to his. My ribs stood out; my pale-earthen colouring faded and lacking. When I dropped my gaze to my nipples, shame filled me.

I’d been found naked and was still naked.

The man kept sitting patiently, like he always did. Ever since I’d been carried here by Niya and her hunting party, I’d woken in a half delirium, half death state and locked eyes with this man.

He’d sat vigil while others fed me, healed me, and bundled me in furs to rest.

He’d stayed as the sun set and the moon shone through the hole in the ceiling, dancing silver with the stone-ringed flames.

Climbing nimbly to his feet, he strode toward the entrance of the lupic. His silhouette etched by sunlight as he called to someone close by. “Hyath, bring what you fashioned for our survivor. She’s no longer on death’s shores.”

I flinched again.

I always did when that word was used.

Death.

If I was to turn my back on it and decide to live, I needed guidance. I needed help to return to the living when so much of me clung to a shadowy, silvery world that seemed desperately like home.

Returning, the man resumed his cross-legged position and smiled. “In case your mind was still in the in-between realm when I last spoke, allow me to remind you.” Clasping his hands on his lap, he said, “We are the Nhil clan. We are peaceful and respectful, but our hunters are as fierce as any warrior. We are happy with our lands and have no intention of invading other kingdoms, unlike some, and we are honoured to be included in the borderlands that make up Quelis.” He cocked his head, sending his long hair and its braids swinging. “Does that word mean anything to you? Are you from Quelis or Lokath? Perhaps you hail from Rivoza or Vetak? Speak, child, and share your tale with me.”

I blinked, waiting for the words he used to taste familiar to my forgottenness. My shoulders slouched when none of them felt right.

After a heavy pause and my usual lack of reply, the man inhaled and continued, “The Nhil people are proud to live in the kingdom of fire. To be Quelis is to belong to the fire element that has shaped our way of life since the beginning. We are blessed with its mercy and worship the messages the flames deliver us.”

Shifting a little, he deepened his tone, “I tell you this so you know whose home you share. Some believe my people are savages who cannot defend our clan, but they’re wrong. We do not seek enemies…” His dark eyes churned with warning. “As long as you treat us with peace and respect, you will always be welcome. You will be a friend instead of a foe.”

I nodded.

It wasn’t the first time I’d heard his speech.

I’d learned in the past few days that the Nhil were a generous, fierce people who laughed and loved but had an underlying dangerousness that was bred from the cradle and harnessed in their way of life.

I knew more about them than I did my own life.

His dark skin gleamed in the gloomy light, watching me closely. “Your silence is full of questions. Care to ask a few of them?”

I gave him a barely-there smile and another shrug.

I couldn’t remember a time when I’d used my voice.

I don’t know what I sound like.

Nodding as if used to my silence, he waved his arm, incorporating the homey shelter. “This lupic is mine, and you are welcome for however long you need. I am fortunate to have my own and not have to share. But I will gladly share with you.” He gave me a tight smile. “I’ve seen you watching me when you pretend to be asleep. I know you’ve seen my communion with the flames.”

Arching an eyebrow, he waited for me to confirm or deny.

I merely held his stare, waiting to understand what he did late at night and why the fire could trance him so.

Shaking his head slightly, he cleared his throat. “If I’m to give up who I am, then your silence must come to an end. I expect your truth in return for mine. Understand?”

I swallowed hard. My heart raced. Fear crawled through me that he wouldn’t accept who I was because I had no idea who that was. But I wanted to know him. I wanted to know his people. I wanted to show how grateful I was that they’d saved me…even if I wasn’t sure I wanted to be saved.

Slowly, I nodded.

I touched my silent throat and bowed my head.

He accepted my promise, and without delay, he said, “I am my clan’s Fire Reader and Spirit Master. A magic inherited by my kin and passed down from blood to blood.” He paused, assessing my reaction.

If he expected awe, he got it. If he searched for terror, he wouldn’t find it.

Everything was magic and unknown and new. I didn’t know if his clan were like me or something so much better. I was just a creature who was so frail the elements made me shiver and sweat, so feeble I needed constant food and water, so weak that whatever I’d lost and forgotten was enough to drive me into a grave.

To me, the Nhil people were already magic. They were vibrant and prosperous and happy…

“You are a complexing thing,” the man murmured. “Your eyes are wide with wonder, just like a babe’s, yet your body is that of a woman.” His gaze dropped to my bare chest. “A woman who came from nowhere with scars on her young form and a mouth empty of words.”

Shaking off his wondering comment, he continued with his tale, “My people come to me for visions that the flames provide. Only I have the gift of interpretation. Even our chief and chiefess listen to my council.” His eyes glittered. “A vision will come—just as it did when you were first found—and I’ll know who you are soon enough.” He smiled and bowed his head. “I told you my name when you first woke but allow me to repeat the greeting, so you may know how to do the same. I am Solin. I’m descended from a lineage of Spirit Masters and Fire Readers and am honoured to rank second within my people. You will meet our chief and chiefess, Tral and Tiptu, when you are strong enough to join the others. When you’re—”

“Solin, I’ve brought what you requested.” A girl appeared at the entrance, startling me. Not because of her sudden arrival but because of how opposite she was to the man sitting before me.

Opposite.

That word triggered a gasping pain deep in my heart.

A pain that slithered into my belly and sank teeth into my spirit.

A flash of a male wrapped in shadow.

But then it was gone, and I drank in the new girl.

Her skin wasn’t dark like Solin’s but so pearly transparent the blue and red strings of her lifeforce in her throat and wrists were clearly visible. Her shoulder-length hair gleamed like the seedheads outside, ready for harvest, and her eyes blazed a startling green.

“Perfect timing, Hyath.” Solin beckoned her forward. “I was just about to tell…” His gaze caught mine. “It’s your turn, girl. You know my name. Now, give me yours.”

The girl hovered with her arms full of furs. Her lips twitched into an encouraging smile, and I found myself wanting to speak.

Skin prickles darted down my back as I swallowed, coughed, and said faintly, “I-I would give you a name…i-if I remembered one.”

Solin tensed as if he hadn’t been expecting my voice. It sounded so frail compared to his. Husky and worn as if I’d been alive far longer than I recalled.

Studying me closely, he said, “Memories can sometimes be lost if we spend too much time in elsewhere.”

“El-Elsewhere?”

“Yes.” He smiled, wary but kind. “The in-between realm where our minds can go but our bodies cannot. Slumber allows us to visit, along with visions, sickness, and death.”

Death.

I stiffened again.

Solin noticed, his shoulders softening. “You react strongly to certain words. Are memories linked to them?” He didn’t give me a chance to reply before asking, “Where were you traveling to? Who do you belong to? Is what Kivva says true? That you were cast from your clan and banished?”

His questions crowded in my skull, chipping away at the emptiness inside me. The girl standing behind him didn’t move, waiting as eagerly as Solin for me to speak.

With a slightly trembling hand, I rubbed my throat and spoke as much truth as I could. “I-I…don’t know. I don’t remember anything. How…how do you remember? Perhaps I’ve forgotten how, and I merely need to ~remember~ how to remember…and I’ll…know…” I looked up, my voice trailing into nothing.

Solin shot a worried look at Hyath, who stood frozen with her bundle. With a curt stare that kept me firmly as a stranger, even though he’d just welcomed me into his home, he said, “If you don’t remember anything about yourself, surely you recall the singular first memory that we all share. A memory that has been passed down for generations?”

I searched my mind.

I shook my head when only darkness and nothingness replied.

His braids made a comforting jingling as he shifted closer, peering deep into my eyes. “The memory of our creation. We took our first breath when the ground parted for our birth. As one, we stepped out of earth and became air, fire, and water. We carry every element within us, but some were blessed with stronger gifts from each. Despite our differences, we are all birthed in the image of Source itself.”

“Source?”

“The power that gives life.”

My heart skipped a beat, but nothing else teased.

I wished I shared his conviction of his existence. I wished I knew who I’d been before his clan found and fed me. Shaking my head, I said timidly, “I’m sorry.”

Hyath stepped closer, her pale legs bare and toes dusty. “It’s okay,” she said softly. “You almost died. Your body is healing. Let it regain its strength, and then your mind will heal too.”

Solin gave her a kind smile before nodding at me. “Hyath is wise. I apologise for rushing you.” Reaching out, he patted my bare shoulder. “There is no danger here.”

I flinched beneath his warm, solid hand.

His touch was soothing but foreign. Gentle but strange.

Locking eyes with him, I whispered, “I might not know who I am, but I promise you, I am not ungrateful.” I swallowed again, wincing against the soreness in my throat. “I…I am not your enemy.”

Solin squeezed my shoulder before leaning back and dropping his hand. “I know.” His forehead furrowed as if he just realised something important. “The fires haven’t offered a vision, but common knowledge has. You are from Quelis.”

“I-I am?”

Hyath’s pretty face broke into a grin. “Of course she is. Oh, Solin, how wonderful.” Hugging her bundle, she added, “You speak our tongue. You speak Firenese.”

“Firenese?”

She bounced on the spot. “You aren’t Nhil, but perhaps you are from Lagol or Karfe. They’re our cousins across the grass seas. We all speak the mother tongue of Quelis, also known as Firenese.”

My head swam with new phrases, pounding with attempts to understand.

I’m one of them?

They’re kin?

All my walking and searching had led me back to cousins I couldn’t recall?

Hunching further into the furs, I fought the urge to hide. To bury deep into the fog that’d cocooned me for so long and run from the confusion of this new life. Tears prickled my eyes as I whispered with heavy shame, “I’m so sorry but…I don’t remember any of those names. I don’t know if I’m from…” I shook my head, already forgetting the places she’d mentioned. “I’m so sorry.”

Solin suddenly unfolded his legs and swooped to standing. “There’s nothing to apologise for. Time will gift us answers. We merely have to be patient.”

“If you’re from Lagol,” Hyath said, “you might remember the deep lake where shrimp shimmer with rainbow colours. Or if you’re from Karfe, you would’ve been raised in the giant ranges of the Sunite Mountains where stones glisten like flames and—”

“Hyath.” Solin shook his head slightly. “Too many words are as confusing as too little.” He caught my eyes. “Don’t force your mind to give answers you’re not ready to hear. For now, all you need to know is you’re a guest of the Nhil and the grasslands are now your home.”

A headache bloomed hot, right between my eyes. So many things. Too much to remember.

The lupic spun, making me dizzy.

I didn’t know how much more of this I could take.

Nothing made sense.

Everything was wrong.

I remember nothing.

I didn’t remember a previous clan or familiar words. I didn’t remember lupics or fires or kin with blended midnight and starlight skin.

My breathing picked up.

Tears trickled down my cheeks.

“Hey…” Hyath ducked to her haunches and placed her hand over mine, clawing at the furs. “It must be so hard to be told things when you have no memory of them.” With a soft sigh, Hyath pressed her bundle into my lap. “Here.” Tucking my white, colourless hair behind my ear, she whispered, “We can talk again…when you’re ready. For now, you should rest. Sleep and heal.” Standing, she moved to Solin’s side. “You’re safe here…with us.”

I raised my head and swiped at my tears. Clutching the bundle she’d given me, my heart swelled with gratitude. “Thank you.”

She smiled. “It’s clothing. I made it myself. And you’re welcome.”

Solin took her hand in his.

Dark skin twined with light, their fingers linking. With a quick bow, Solin murmured, “You might not remember your people or your past, but you’re Nhil for as long as you wish to be.” Running a hand down an inky feather in his hair, he moved to leave, taking Hyath with him. “Rest. If you have strength later, dress in the clothes Hyath made you and come join us. The rest of the clan would love to welcome you.”