Kurama

Tengu Caller

Familiar

Sent by their clans to seek and bring home their fallen flock lost to madness and confusion, these dusk-traveling bounty hunters seem to be losing their own battle with darkness.

2750

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"Kurama," croaked a soft, raspy voice. "Wake up."

Kurama opened his eyes. When had he fallen asleep? He stretched his wings, feeling a gust of wind catch and slide against them. He could smell bamboo and other grasses sharp and heavy in his nose, could hear the sweet sound of a thin stream broken by uneven ground and trickling into the small pond below; he'd fallen asleep near the peak of the Reedcleft Ascent.

He yawned and turned to the owner of the raspy voice. Kyouka tilted her head at him sharply, her head twisting to one side so one eye had full view of him. Her beak clacked together when she saw she had his attention, and she raised a hand to pull her hood up over her head. "There's been a flock of Corven spotted close to the Twisting Crescendo. They aren't responding to any of our languages."

"You think they're tengu," Kurama said slowly. He uncurled himself from the rocks he'd ended up coiled around as he slept and let himself glide down to land beside Kyouka.

Kyouka inclined her head. "Jakuchi and Chiroro have offered to fly me there, with your permission."

"Permission?" Kurama laughed incredulously and butted the top of his head gently into Kyouka's hip. Her talons dug deep into the soft earth beneath her, and she clasped her hands together in front of her. "You don't need permission!"

"You saved me, Kurama." Kyouka shifted her head again, looking at him sideways. "I owe you my life. I owe you more than that."

The solemnity of her words hit Kurama like a sudden headwind straight to the eyes. He drooped. He never felt equipped to deal with this, with how seriously Kyouka took everything, with the fact that he had probably saved her life when he'd called her back from whatever force had gripped her and driven her to violence.

She'd been about to smash an egg lying helpless in someone's nest. Kurama knew maybe it was different with Corven, but he didn't think either one of them would have been able to come back from that. He'd reached out and he'd called her— not by name, because he hadn't known it at the time, but with some sort of magic he hadn't known he'd possessed and hadn't been able to reach since.

He hadn't wanted to. He was one of the blessed by Windsinger; he had been born for joyous song and dancing through the air in looping circles. He had been made to laugh and joke and ride the winds. He hadn't been made to call someone back from an otherworldly loss of self.

Except that Kyouka standing before him, quiet and calm and self-possessed, her body straight and lacking any of the aggression it had once held, proved that maybe he was.

"It wasn't me." He looked away from her, back towards the small pond. The breeze sent ripples along the surface. "If you owe anyone anything, it's Zora."

"Zora trapped me so that I could not hurt anyone," Kyouka said calmly. "She subdued me, and I am grateful to that. But you, Kurama. You are the one who returned me to myself." She waited a moment. The melodic jangle of someone's chimes sounded in the distance; they must be close to another clan's territory. "May I have your permission?"

Kurama let out a harsh breath, his ears flattening against his head. He turned to her. "I won't give you permission," he said, because even if he had saved her, somehow, even if he'd been ready to admit that to himself, he didn't need her to owe him anything. He had everything he needed so long as he had the wind under his wings, tugging at his feet and tail. Kyouka's feathers started to fluff in agitation, and Kurama lifted his wings to let a gust of wind carry him up into the air. He looped once and landed in a drape over Kyouka's shoulders. "I won't give you permission, but I will come with you, as a friend."

All the tension in Kyouka's body drained at those words. She clacked her beak together again. "I may ask you for more than I can repay, if I alone cannot call them back."

"Well." Kurama settled his chin on top of her head. The soft fabric of her hood tickled against his scales. "What are friends for?" Then, to diffuse the gravity of the moment, he added, "I think you're right, though. You should definitely ask Jakuchi and Chiroro for a ride. Blessed by Windsinger or no, I don't have the magic to lift someone as big as you."

"Perhaps next you should befriend a Raptorik to accompany you high in the skies," Kyouka said, but she had a gleam in her eye that belied the dry tone in her voice. Kurama liked to think he'd gotten to know her well enough to hear the joy in her voice. Even so, despite the wind calling to him to take to the skies, he stayed draped over her shoulders as she made her slow, ground-bound way to the shrine where Jakuchi and Chiroro could often be found during the day. The wind could wait a little bit longer.