Tributes | Baashirah & Kirin: Nokt - Kirin

Kirin had been worried about his friend and brother Baas for days.

 

What started as a warm passing fever quickly spread like an inferno, taking Baas's strength and stamina with it. His friend only seemed to get hotter by the second.

 

Baas kept insisting he was fine despite the feverish gleam haunting his eyes. Kirin tried to not panic and fret over him too much. That was always Baas's objective.

 

Kirin didn't think of himself as too reckless, but ailments and injuries tended to find their way to him the most. Leaving his friend to admonish and fix him back up.

 

He tried hard to think back to the times when he was too weak to leave the nest himself, trying to remember what it was Baas did to alleviate his sicknesses.

 

But usually he was too delirious with fever to think straight and could barely make sense of the ministrations when he did manage to stay awake. But something....cool...

 

Ah, some water.

 

He took flight, down towards the stream near their cliffside nest.

 

When he returned with a large leaf full of sloshing water, Baas hadn't stirred or moved from his spot.

 

Dipping his beak into the water, he allowed the liquid to dribble onto his friend's head, soaking through the beautifully coarse feathers and hopefully soothe his heated skin and quills.

 

Baas let out an unintelligible mumble of what Kirin thought was contentment.

 

He had only grown weaker and more ill with each passing day. Kirin needed to be doing more. But he never bothered to learn of the herbs that Baas knew to collect or which ones to mash together into a poultice.

 

He cursed himself for relying so heavily on his brother, for relying on the fact that he'd know what to do for the both of them.

 

Kirin stayed by Baas' side, continuing to ease him with cool water and gentle cooing until the fever finally broke.

 

When Baas stirred awake, Kirin was relieved to see the light return to his friend's eyes, and the cheerful chatter he had become accustomed to resuming.

 

But as the hours went by, the coughing fits started up.

 

Despite not wanting to, Kirin left briefly to catch a small deer, trying to entice Baas's appetite. It was small and slow-going, but he was able to get the smaller hawk to saw a few mouthfuls before he fell back asleep.

 

Then the rattling in his chest started.

 

It was a slow, dying sound that wheezed out with the hawk's exhales. Like someone was rubbing the end of a bone across a stack of bones, dry and grating.

 

Kirin's worry never eased. The fever was gone, but he wasn't sure that this new development was any better.

 

Baas's coughing woke him right back up and Kirin preened the feathers on his chest to try and rub and soothe the lungs underneath.

 

He didn't think it helped.

 

Baas was getting worse, and there was no telling how quickly things would escalate. He spread his wings and took flight down the cliffside and into the forest below. He needed to find someone who could help him, someone who understood the intricacies of ailments and sicknesses that he never bothered to learn himself.

 

Atop a gnarled tree branch, Kirin saw hope.

 

An old, wizened owl microstryx sat perched on the branch, gazing into the trees with knowing eyes.

 

Kirin landed under the tree, rustling his wings to not the startle the other creature.

 

"Excuse me," Kirin took up his most polite tone, bowing his head in respect to the older yet smaller creature. "I need your help. My friend is sick and I don't know what to do."

 

The owl microstryx looked down at Kirin, considering him for a moment before speaking. "And what kind of sickness does your friend have?"

 

"He had a terrible fever that I managed to break, but now he's coughing and his chest sounds like there's bones rattling around in there. It can't be good." Kirin couldn't help the puffing of his neck feathers as shuffled in place anxiously.

 

"Hmm," the microstryx murmured, closing its eyes in deep thought. "It sounds like he may have contracted the black lung fever. If left untreated, it can be fatal."

 

That didn't do anything to soothe Kirin's fraying nerves, but he held his tongue in favor of what else the smaller stryx had to say.

 

"I can help you," the microstryx said, finally opening its eyes. "But it won't be cheap."

 

Kirin was willing to pay whatever price he could to save his brother's life. "Name it," he said firmly.

 

"I need a rare herb that grows deep in the heart of the forest," the microstryx said cryptically. "It's called the moonflower, and it's the only remedy for this kind of sickness. Bring me the moonflower, and I will heal your friend."

 

Kirin nodded eagerly. "Thank you. Can you show me where to find it?"

 

The microstryx chuckled. "Oh, no. I'm much too old to journey with you. The flower is nestled in the territory of a tusk panther. But I can give you directions. Follow the river until you reach the waterfall, then head west. You'll know it by its glowing petals. But be warned, the Tusk Panther has a fang on each side of its mouth as long as the feathers on your head. If you're not careful, you may end up too injured to help your friend."

 

Kirin swallowed hard, feeling his feathers stand on end. On any given day, he'd have been up for the challenge, eager for something new and thrilling, consequences and worries to be dealt with later...

 

But now he had more on the line to worry about, and that worry made him uncertain and doubtful of his ability to tackle on a tusk panther.

 

He'd seen them prowling throughout the mountains, blending in with the stone and rock. It was almost the size of a very large wolf.

 

Baas wasn't here to back him up, and Baas needed him.

 

"Thank you," he said again, before spreading his wings and heading towards where he knew the waterfall spilled off of the mountainside.

 

Kirin's anxiety only increased as he got closer to his destination. He couldn't shake off the dread of potentially facing such a large saber-toothed cat. He had done something similar during one of his earlier trials, only it had been a fadian boar, which was twice as mean and just as big. Only, he had the quick-witted help of his brother, and the experience of their harpia friend to fall back on.

 

The thought of failure certainly didn't help.

 

Eventually the trees grew too dense, forcing him to land and amble through the quiet undergrowth, eyes pealed for anything with a preternatural glow.

 

In the shadows of the trees, Kirin thought he could spy the glint of ivory fangs in the sparse moonlight. The sight made him freeze in his tracks, wings spreading out—

 

—but he knew he couldn't turn back now.

 

He took a deep breath and started to move forward, his heart racing with every step he took.

 

The closer he got to the waterfall, the louder the rumbling sound of the water became. It was a welcome distraction from his anxiety. Kirin could feel the droplets of water misting his face as he approached the cascading white-blue torrent plummeting down the rocky face.

 

Looking around, Kirin tried to find a path that would lead him to the other side of the waterfall. He could see the wet, mossy stones, and the slick surface looked daunting and dangerous. He was considering flying up to try and get a better vantage point when he spotted a narrow pathway coiling off to the left.

 

Taking in a deep breath, Kirin carefully stepped onto the path, his talons gripping tightly onto the edge. The roar of the waterfall grew deafening as he slowly edged his way closer and closer, trying his damnedest not to slip into the frothy waters.

 

As he rounded a bend, the sound of rushing water suddenly died down. Kirin paused for a moment. He had entered a small cave that went behind the waterfall. Squinting through the mist, he could see a clump of something glowing softly on the cave floor.

 

Shaking the droplets out of his quills, he scrambled over to the patch of flowers, nestled directly under the a hole in the cave roof, where they bathed in the moonlight, making their glow almost ghostly against the dark cave.

 

He couldn't help but glance at the moon and be reminded of Nokt's cooling glow. He could prayed that she was keeping one watchful eye on his brother.

 

Click. Click. Click. Click.

 

The sound of claws on wet ground caused Kirin to spin around.

 

By the mouth of the cave, a slender figure prowled close to the ground, light brown fur slicked down and darkened with mist, its canine fangs curving around its raised lips like daggers.

 

Kirin had a moment to puff out every single on of his feathers and raise his wings in a threatening display. He may have lacked the size of a harpia of a gryph, but he still a larger stature than most corvas.

 

The big cat pounced, fangs bared and glinting in the moonlight—

 

Kirin deftly leapt backwards, the cave space too small to stretch out his full wingspan, but he was able to propel himself out of the way with small flutters.

 

The panther growled, its tail swishing as it struck out a paw and Kirin bounced back again.

 

He let out a series of sharp, screeching noises, hoping to disorientate the feline as the sounds echoed and ebbed through the space.

 

The big cat gave a growling scream of its own and leapt into the air, its massive, razor-sharp claws aimed for him.

 

Kirin flapped his wings once, twice, then he dropped to the ground, tucking his wings in tightly as the big cat landed behind him.

 

He knew he was slow on ground. He was a flier, not a runner. Regardless, he dash towards the patch of flowers, not daring a glance backwards, and ripped up a large mouthful.

 

Pain bloomed along his tail as a set of claws raked down the appendage, tugging off a majority of his tail feathers. He whipped his tail, catching the cat off guard, and leapt up at the wall, talons catching briefly on the indentations in the cave wall, before the threw himself to the other side of the cave, leaving the cat to scramble after him.

 

He had bought himself some distance with that move and spurred himself towards the deafening sound of the rushing water.

 

The rocks were slipperier and far too treacherous to be running on, but all he needed was open air—

 

—he hurtled himself through the curtain of water, tumbling through air and sky and water before his flight feathers caught onto the wind and snagged a hold.

 

A petrified screech and a loud thump as his pursuer tried to fumble to a stop, only to tumble out of the cave and into the river below.

 

Kirin didn't dare open his beak, lest his lose his precious cargo, and focused on sharp breathes through his nose, ignoring the stinging in his tail.

 

Far below, he could see a dark shape clambering out onto the river bed, sodden and miserable, as it slunk back into the trees with a flick of its tail.

 

Kirin didn't waste another moment and made way back to where the old microstryx slumbered on its tree branch.

 

He'd get the old geezer to make the moonflower into whatever medicinal compound he needed, and he'd worry about the payment later.

 

For the first time in a week, Kirin felt the ice in his veins begin to thaw and his frazzled nerves finally settling down.

 

Never did he ever want to feel helpless like that again. He'd get Baas to teach him every damn herb in the forest if he had to.