Note about pronouncing names: The alien words can mostly be pronounced as your best guess, with one exception. Their language uses pitched vowels; a rising, flat, and falling "a" are all different sounds to them. The notation used here to indicate the pitch of the vowel is as follows: áé etc. have a rising pitch, as indicated by the accent that rises from left to right; àè etc. have a falling pitch, as indicated by the accent that falls from left to right; and ae etc. are "flat", or unpitched vowels. This is mostly to be seen in the names; their actual language is rarely shown, except when their word has no equivalent in English.
Chapter 1: Slide
The air swept across her back as she soared, queen of the air, in search of suitable prey. A speck entered her vision from the side, gaining altitude and crossing beneath her. In a heartbeat she knew its speed, and knew where to intercept it for a quick kill. She tilted her wings, straightened, then snapped them back in a perfect stoop, spilling air quickly and evenly off of the edges. She sped nearer, squinting against the wind, trying to stay on course.
There was a flash, the pale underside of the prey's wing showing as it twisted to dodge to the side, and she dove past it, falling toward the wild ground below.
``Sodden wretch!'' Ngàl wrenched her wings down, fighting to flatten out her dive. ``Drown in a bottomless lake!'' She skimmed just out of reach of the trees and started rising again to drop some speed.
Her head shrank back as she realized what she had just shouted, and she quickly located her family. Her parents would leave her with the still-homes if they caught her swearing so much!
There, on the road, in the dust. Ngíssòk was driving, Hérràk beside him, holding the rifle, Zhángàrr and the sleé on the wagon's roof. Ngàl squinted, sharpening her centre vision. She appeared to be lounging, but Ngàl knew her mother too well---she was as alert as the sleé, watching for danger. Ngàl eased her squint, and her peripheral vision rushed back in.
Ngàl circled again, higher. They must not have heard her; they weren't angry, just watchful.
The sun warmed her back and wings, the air cooled her. Ngàl started to relax, her glide loosening now that she was safely out of reach of the grasping branches.
She soared, queen of the air, searching for suitable prey...
#
Hérràk climbed, calling Ngàl and her siblings to him with a few words in the whistle language.
Ngàl circled once to let him lead, and slid into his slipstream, opposite Rís. Yàn and Zàs joined them, making a ragged triangle.
They sped along the road, just above the tree-tops, casting for signs of life.
Only animals.
Not far from the last climb into the cut, he veered away from the road, led them in a tight circle around a clearing, then a wider one, just like Khífvèl had always done. Still only animals, and only one dangerous predator, a khaníess, on the very edge of perception.
They hadn't even finished folding their wings after landing in the clearing when Hérràk started assigning chores. ``Rís and Yàn, start clearing a path for the wagon. Ngàl, start preparing the fire pit. Zàs, scout for some grub logs for the kòrra, and when you've found four, help Ngàl.'' He finished unclipping two shovels and three machetes from his harness, and distributed them. ``Shall we?'' He brandished his sheathed machete at the trees, then dropped the sheath in the grass.
Ngàl reluctantly accepted a shovel, and watched for a few heartbeats as Hérràk joked with Rís and Yàn, taking a leafy branch down with a double-handed swipe of the heavy blade.
Zàs disappeared into the underbrush, twitching visibly at each touch of the grabbing branches and grumbling just on the edge of hearing.
Hérràk's cheerfulness became a bit forced, but he kept chatting. Pointless, because they could all tell.
Ngàl leaned on her shovel and scanned the clearing. Too small to build the fire in the centre, so which side would suit the wagon best?
Decision made, she started cutting through the plant roots, lifting great chunks of dirt and grass out of the ground and piling them to the side in a makeshift wall.
Zàs joined her when she had nearly bared enough dirt for the fire pit, and together they widened it to get burnables well away from the fire.
Her shoulders and hands didn't tire nearly as quickly as they had the first time Khífvèl had called them to help set up camp. Zhángàr must have told Hérràk what Khífvèl used to do, because he copied Khífvèl's scouting method.
An armload of wood clattered to the ground a pace away. ``Resentment is poison, Ngàl. And you will see your other birth parents again, saylZháràss isn't that cruel.''
``Yeah, in a few years when I go on road crew.''
``You'll see them before that, at some still-home town or another. We were put on overlapping routes, after all.''
Ngàl turned back to her digging.
``Ngàl---all of us went through the same thing at a shuffle. I still remember feeling resentful at first.''
Rís and Yàn dropped their wood on the growing pile, and Zàs stopped digging.
``So, are we done?'' Hérràk asked, laying false cheer over them all.
``It could be more even, but it's big enough,'' Zàs said, tossing his shovel beside the wall of turf.
``Even so---''
Yàn cut Hérràk off with a groan, trying to stop any word games before they flew too far.
Hérràk whistled, pleased with himself.
``Oh why did Síffùl family choose to marry you in?''
``You spear my heart with such unkind words!''
Ngàl nearly choked trying not to whistle. As awful as it was, his humour was infectious.
#
The shadows were getting long, competing with the campfire's flicker and the patchy clouds in front of the moons. The kòrra ambled into the clearing, Zhángàrr leading. She held one of the kòrra by its nose ring to keep them and the wagon still as the wheels were blocked, then let go and reached up to scratch its jaw before unbuckling its harness.
Ngàl grabbed a comb and a kòrra, and started yanking the branches and brambles out of its fur. Ngàl and Yàn shared one, Rís and Zàs the other, and their parents started hanging lanterns as the fire grew.
Yàn jumped onto the kòrra's back to continue brushing, leaving Ngàl to check its feet. As the kòrra lifted its head and grunted happily at the rough scratching Yan was giving its shoulders and back, Ngàl slapped its shoulder for attention then tickled the inside of its knee. The kòrra obediently lifted that foot.
Claws, good; pads---Ngàl rubbed at a dark spot with a stiff brush---good, that was just dirt. Joints looked good. She tapped its shoulder so it put its foot down, and moved to the next leg.
Rís and Zàs finished first. Ngàl slapped the kòrra's hip and it shook its massive head, jingling its halter tags, before wandering off after its harness-mate.
The forest was black now, the clouds invisible except near a moon, the mountain peaks that had towered over in the light them now vanished, but the fire and the lanterns lit their camp and turned everybody orange.
Ngàl bowed over her dinner and thanked Zhángàrr, then sprawled next to Zàs to eat, staring into the fire.
``Yàn, you need a haircut again?''
Rís was the first to let a whistle slip out, and then they all lost control of their mirth. One of the sleé lifted its head and looked at them reproachfully before tucking itself back into a ball.
``Oh, shut up,'' said Yàn.
``You could all use a trim, actually.''
``But it'll be ages before we reach the next city!''
Ngàl glanced sideways at Rís. Please don't start. Please.
``And not much less than that before we meet the coal train, too. We'll be shaggy again by then anyway---''
Ngàl reached over Zàs and smacked her sister. If she didn't shut up, Zhángàrr might not let them use dye.
Ngíssòk looked up from his repairs to gave her a warning look, but Zhángàrr pretended not to notice.
``No, but we never know when we'll meet a road crew, and we don't want them thinking Síffùl family are slobs.''
``They're the ones trying to impress us, though,'' Zàs said.
``No, it goes both ways, dear.''
``It does?''
Everybody turned to look at Hérràk, and Rís' soft whistle dripped with scorn.
Ngàl, Zàs, and Yàn all slapped her at once.
``Yes.'' Zhángàrr directed her answer to Hérràk. ``Why did you choose Síffùl out of the half-dozen proposals you received? We're not the richest or most powerful family that proposed to you, and you had to have known it.''
``How did you know---''
``I like to know who I'll be living with. You chose our family over the others because of both our reputation and your impression of Síffùl family's trade groups, didn't you?''
``Well, yes. Issór family was tempting---and richer---but I didn't like the way a lot of their trade groups acted.''
Zhángàrr flicked her ears forward. ``Yàn, get the comb and the shears, please. And Hérràk, warm up the radio and let me know if anything important comes through.''
Hérràk disappeared into the wagon with one of the lanterns, and Ngàl heard the familiar hiss start, getting louder as the radio warmed up.
Zàs yawned and rested his head on Ngàl's back, relaxing toward sleep. The fire's steady crackle, the great soft blanket of Zàs' sleep, and the regular snick of the shears pushed Ngàl toward sleep; the almost audible, almost understandable words coming from the radio kept her awake trying to hear.
``Half-battery, Zhángàrr.'' Hérràk jumped out of the wagon. ``Nothing exciting in the other reports.''
``Good.'' Zhángàrr ruffled Yàn's fur and combed it flat again, evened up the fringe on his legs with one last snip, and put her tools down. ``Don't fall asleep, Ngàl, you're next.''
She took the lantern from Hérràk and disappeared into the wagon.
``Zhángàrr here.''
Everybody still awake turned to listen to the radio emit a crackle that could have been ``report''.
``No report yesterday, we spent the night at a farm. They threw a party for their neighbours, so we stayed and traded food and supplies. We are at the entrance to the cut, and will be through it by midday tomorrow, then we'll start visiting the small manors and leaseholds on the way to Hassengal.''
Another crackle, acknowledging the report.
``Any news on the coal train we're meeting?''
The radio started spitting words, crackling out the syllables. Ngàl thought she heard ``on time''.
``The road?''
More spitting, not quite intelligible through the wagon's walls. One of the words sounded like ``clear''.
``Thank you. Zhángàrr signing off. Good night.''
There was a clack, and the hiss faded. Outside again, Zhángàrr picked up the comb. ``Ngàl?''
#
Ngàl woke to silence.
She stared into the impenetrable night, feeling the calmness of sleep all around.
A low grunt and a snuffling sound moved along the length of the wagon, a soft step, the jingle of halter tags.
It wasn't raining anymore, Ngàl realised. She had fallen asleep listening to the rain drumming on the wagon, hissing on the remains of the fire. It hadn't quite held off long enough and they'd had to rush under the wagon and unfold their blankets all at once, instead of going under by turns like they usually did.
One of the kòrra snuffled right in front of her, blowing warm breath into her face. Its halter tags jingled, and it hoped it would find some grubs. The wheel blocks---
``Shoo!'' Ngàl whispered.
The kòrra grunted in surprise, then ambled away from the wagon.
Everybody was still asleep, and Ngàl could feel it wrapping around, gently drawing her in.
Just before giving in, she tugged her blanket higher on her shoulders.
#
A shrill three-note whistle called her and her siblings back from their morning games, and she turned her glide to bring her back to the road.
The kòrra were standing quietly in front of the wagon and her parents were buckling their harnesses.
Her chores were finished before she took off to play, so she could stay aloft and follow the road from the clean air, or come down to the wagon and walk in the dust.
Another whistle rang out, this time announcing that it was a hunt day, and one of the children would get to drive. Her three siblings converged above the wagon, and an enthusiastic free-for-all started. Two smaller shapes, the sleé, circled the fight, whistling ``play!'' Ngàl circled above them once. They were so intent on each other, spinning, snapping, flapping, dodging---the thrill of the fight tugged at Ngàl---that none thought to look out.
Ngàl snapped her wings back in a stoop, aimed directly at her siblings. A heartbeat before crashing into them, she whistled a warning. They scattered; only Rís was too slow and was knocked into a tumble.
Ngàl pulled neatly out of her dive and started rising again, whistling her gleeful laughter to the sky. She glanced over her back to gloat at her siblings.
``Oops.'' Ngàl flapped madly, trying to regain the speed advantage she had had from her dive. All three of her siblings were now chasing her---and they were the gleeful ones.
She flew downwards again, straight for the forest, then banked sharply up and left. Some longer branches grabbed at her legs, and she almost flipped herself over to avoid them, but forced herself to stay her course. The tree tops dropped away below her, and she risked another glance over her back. Her pursuers had changed position, and one was struggling. Yàn was catching up---no surprise, he had the larger wingspan and smaller body of a swift. Ngàl zig-zagged a few times above the trees, then stooped again, heading for the wagon. Yàn's larger wings would slow him down just a little in a stoop, hopefully enough.
Ngàl curled her feet as if she were holding a dropping spear aimed at the roof of the wagon. At the last possible moment, she caught herself on her wings and kicked downwards, driving her invisible spear into the wagon. A very satisfying wham! followed her up.
``Ngàl! Ground!''
A quieter thump came as Yàn kicked himself off of the roof of the wagon. He had been a bit too slow; their parents had turned to look before he hit the roof.
Ngàl made a tight circle, spilling speed for landing. She stalled and dropped to the ground as ordered, in front of Zhángàrr.
``Ngàl.'' Zhángàrr looked down at her, stretching the silence until Ngàl started fidgeting.
``Can you afford to replace the wagon's roof?''
``No, Zhángàrr.'' How could she, with no money of her own?
``Then don't risk breaking it.''
``Yes, Zhángàrr.''
All three siblings had landed.
``Rís, you drive today. Take the cut slowly; you can fly if the wagon goes over the edge, but the kòrra can't, and we need them. If there are any rocks on the road, push them off. It shouldn't be too bad, a road crew was through recently and cleared it.'' Zhángàrr turned away for one final check of the wagon. The two sleé hopped after her, whistling ``hunt?'' hopefully.
Hérràk turned away from Yàn and sidled up beside Ngàl, his ears held mischievously aslant. ``That was some nice flying, though,'' he murmured. ``How would you and Yàn like to practice your moves on some real prey?''
Ngàl's ears shot up, then down again in a forced calm. ``Zhángar says its ok?''
Hérràk flipped his ears forward once, and they landed a bit farther back than usual. ``A marriage is between equals, Ngàl, and you'd be wise to remember that when you're old enough to marry. We will have a lesson, and if you do well enough, we'll try live prey. Get your harness and a knife.''
Ngàl tried to keep her ears casual as she jogged to the back of the wagon to get her harness---and knife!
Yàn was already adjusting the buckles on his harness when Ngàl stopped. She pulled her harness on quickly, settling it over her shoulders then twisting around to fasten the belly strap. She accepted the hunting knife from Zhángàrr on open hands, checked that the knife was properly fastened inside its sheath, then clipped the sheath to her harness. It rode heavy and low on her chest, to one side of her breastbone, the handle in easy reach.
``Kid-mum hunt? Sleé hunt?'' the older sleé whistled, looking at her knife.
She strutted back around to the front of the wagon, wings held slightly back so Rís and Zàs could see the knife on her harness. Rís resolutely ignored her, and clicked at the kòrra to get them moving. Zàs watched her, ears low, then turned to follow the wagon.
Oh the stories she'd tell them tonight, revelling in her mastery of the hunt---
A great crack! brought Ngàl's wandering imagination back as Zhángàrr filled her wings with air on the first stroke. Dead leaves and bits of loosened groundcover spun into the air, forcing Ngàl to back up a step. Ngíssòk followed, spraying more dead plant bits around. The sleé zipped around and between them, whistling ``hunt! hunt!''
``Today,'' Hérràk started, to get their attention. ``Today we will start with small ground animals. First, you need to practice your stoop, and stopping at ground level without crashing into the ground.'' He lowered his voice and leaned forward. ``Don't tell Zhángàrr I said this or she'll bite my ears, but that dive on the wagon had very good form.''
Ngàl and Yàn whistled a short loop, then put their ears out to listen attentively as Hérràk described some of the animals they would try to find and catch after practicing their stoop. The slight breeze whispered over her ears, tugging at the feathered clips at the tips. A flock of tiny flying animals made swirling patterns as they circled the cold fire pit behind Hérràk, picking off insects and landing on one of the rocks around it for less than a heartbeat before swirling into the pattern again. At times, the pattern seemed to react to Hérràk's voice.
``Ready?''
Ngàl brought herself back, twitching her ears forward once as Yàn said ``yes.''
``Up, then.'' Hérràk crouched, then jumped as high as he could. His wings spread and filled with a snap, and he started moving away.
Ngàl and Yàn jumped apart, so they wouldn't foul each other's wings, then turned as they rose to follow Hérràk, away from the road and the right, away from the cut between two peaks. Ngàl spotted Zhángàrr and Ngíssòk travelling quickly, far along the road.
Hérràk banked and circled once, landing on a slope covered in grass and sharp scree. Ngàl swung around to land, but Hérràk whistled that they should stay aloft.
He patted a hummock of grass, sending up a small puff of dust. ``Practice your stoop here. I want to see the dust when you hit it,'' he shouted.
Ngàl whistled understanding, and with a snarl and a snap established her place as first in line. They both circled to gain enough space to do a proper stoop, then Ngàl broke out of the circle and stooped for the bit of grass. The sharp scree to either side rushed close, and Ngàl brought her wings down to pull up and away.
``Almost there,'' Hérràk shouted, and gestured for her to climb again for another try.
Yàn stooped and pulled up, leaving a puff of dust behind---no, three puffs: the one he should have made and one at each wingtip where he hit the scree on the downstroke. He flapped once more, then gave up and unfolded his legs to land. Hérràk hopped over the scree and landed nearby, turning to look at Yàn's wingtips. Ngàl landed a heartbeat later, just upslope.
``Are you hurt?'' she asked.
Yàn winced as Hérràk rubbed his spit in.
``Lots of tiny cuts,'' Hérràk said. ``Even the flat edges of the rocks here can cut, if you hit them wrong.''
``It stings,'' Yàn said, and turned to let Hérràk look at his other wingtip.
``Yes.'' Hérràk paused his inspection. ``Do you know how much earlier to pull up now?''
``I think so.''
``You'll be fine. Shall we try again?'' Hérràk waved to Ngàl to take off.
They took turns attacking the hummock until Hérràk was satisfied with their form. Then they moved, and practiced on a different patch of ground.
The repetetive dives quickly lost their fun, even when Hérràk tossed various rocks and sticks around so they wouldn't be attacking the same spot all the time, so Ngàl started interfering with Yàn's stoops. First skimming just in front of him as he prepared, then getting closer and closer until they nearly collided. On her own dives, she would roll into it, or start higher or lower, or aim for Yàn first.
``A few more, then we'll eat,'' Hérràk called.
Ngàl stooped again, recovered, climbed back up to meet Yàn. Good, she needed food if she was going to fly much longer. The thought of food encouraged her, and she felt some energy returning. On her next time around the circle, she saw Yàn preparing to stoop, so she swooped close to him, missing a collision by a finger's width.
``Ngàl! Ground!'' The short, sharp whistle followed Yàn's stoop and recovery.
``What are you trying to do?'' Hérràk demanded as Ngàl folded her wings. ``Stoops are hard enough to do properly without you deliberately trying to unbalance Yàn!''
``I---''
``I can't teach you anything if you want to keep sabotaging your brother. I brought you out here because I thought you showed a little bit of skill beyond your age, but now I see you don't have the maturity to match it.''
Ngàl shrank into herself. Hérràk had never been so angry. His voice blurred, echoing in her skull, making it feel vast---and empty. A roaring overtook Hérràk's voice, drowning it out, and she felt the need to fly, to escape.
Ngàl opened her eyes, the echoing roar abruptly diminishing, as if it were now some distance away. The fear stayed.
Hérràk had stopped yelling. He didn't look angry at all, anymore---he looked frightened, and he was looking towards the cut.
``Follow,'' he snapped, and launched himself into the air. A distant whistle reached them, echoed and re-echoed, a parent calling her children, promising that help was coming as swiftly as wings could carry it.
Ngàl jumped, rose quickly, and turned toward the cut. Yàn moved ahead, his larger wings pulling him through the air faster than Ngàl. She struggled to gain speed, to keep up, but her wings were wooden and only responded slowly, flapping stiffly like the puppet she had seen at the last big market. They should have stopped for food earlier, then she'd have the energy to fly properly.
She could see into the cut now, and scanned the road along the cliff face. There. So small in the distance, the wagon moved along the road.
There was nothing behind them on the road, nothing in the air threatening. But the mountain above them, the cliff face, was moving. It shifted, it rippled, it moved downwards. Fear sent a surge of energy to her wings, and she sped towards the cut.
The sheet of rocks spread east and west, crashing onto the road, bouncing towards the racing wagon.
Mountains loomed to either side, throwing dark shadows over the lower walls of the cut. She could see the puff of dust raised with each footstep the kòrra took, the way their backs rocked, shuddering as Zàs slashed at their flanks, whipping them faster. She could see how close the rocks were.
Her parents raced beside the road, desperate to get to the wagon first. A rock tumbled past in front of the wagon.
Already terrified, the kòrra shied, stopping and throwing their heads up. Zàs shot over their backs, catching his wings on their necks and tumbling to the ground. Ngàl dropped for a heartbeat, then fought the pain to keep flying. The kòrra crashed together, stumbled, stepped on Zàs. The wagon slammed into their back legs, and they careened into the cliff face. Another rock hit the rightmost kòrra, and it collapsed and started thrashing, tangling its mate's harness. Ngàl's wings locked into a glide position, reflex taking over as Zàs was crushed by the struggling beast. The wagon stopped.
Ngàl watched her parents dive for the wagon. The rocks were already pummelling its roof. Rís tried to jump out, skidding as the wagon rocked on its springs. A whistle reached faintly through the rockslide's roar. Fly. Zhángàrr stalled close to the wagon, calling Rís.
The pounding on the wagon's roof increased from an allegro drumming to a mad crash. The wagon leaned, tilted, tipped as the weight of the rocks pushed it over. Pain ripped through her, threatening even her reflex glide, as a second hole was torn in her soul. Zhángàrr was gone.
Despite the rocks, Hérràk and Ngíssòk landed on top of the wagon, reaching down inside for Rís. The rocks poured down, crushing their bodies into the wagon's wall.
Two more holes appeared in Ngàl's soul.
The rocks were no longer drumming on the wagon---it was buried. The rockslide swept past the road, slowed to a trickle, stopped.
Yàn reached the pile of rocks first, tried to land, then frantically pushed out over the edge when the rocks started to slide. He rose, tried to land again, and triggered another shower of rocks. Ngàl glided slowly past, her eyes sweeping the jumble of rocks, searching for a rock that wasn't balanced on edge. Yàn joined her. The sunlight reflecting from the pale rocks dazzled her eyes, making the shadows beneath them impenetrable.
A wave of pain flooded over her, and a wail seeped out of the rock pile. Ngàl wobbled, and struggled to breathe.
``Rís!'' Yàn yelled. ``We're here, we're going to get you out!''
A second wail, deeper, pushed through the rocks, and was answered by a clatter. Yàn was hitting the rocks, kicking them so they started falling again, jumping around. The sleé arrived and perched on a rock, watching curiously. Ngàl started landing and jumping on the other side of the wagon, trying to ignore the pain she felt from Rís. The rockslide started again, below them. A rock above her tipped and rumbled down, forcing her to circle out over the valley for a few heartbeats as it cleared a large swath. The younger sleé whistled ``danger!'' and flapped away. The corner of the wagon was visible now, and she moved her attention to clearing the front of the wagon.
Rís wailed again, more quietly, and Ngàl felt her gasp for breath, the searing pain in her lungs, the fluid she coughed out.
They pushed the rocks away, stopping only to move Hérràk and Ngíssòk's bodies to one side to give them room to stand. The older sleé hopped onto Ngíssòk's shoulder and peered at his head. ``Mum sleep?'' it whistled.
Rís fell unconscious again, the pain mercifully ceasing.
They continued clearing the road, resorting to makeshift levers once they had kicked all the unbalanced rocks into the valley. They excavated the kòrra, and pulled Zàs out.
Yàn caught the head of one of the kòrra, and held its halter. It had been partly protected from the rocks by its harness-mate's body, but had a broken back. Yàn talked soothingly at it, calming it, then with an apology cut its throat.
Ngàl crouched by Rís, staring blankly. Her chest was crushed; it was a wonder she was alive at all. All the healing their parents had taught was nothing in the face of this. Ngàl tried to remember anything they had mentioned about really bad injuries.
Don't move her. That was all she could do. Keep her warm; but to do that they'd have to move her.
Another bubble blew on Rís' nostrils, popped. She gurgled, struggling to pull air in. Another bubble. This one didn't pop, didn't shrink. The pulse in Rís' neck slowed, then stopped.
Ngàl closed her eyes, reaching for her sense of Rís' presence. It faded, tearing a hole as it disappeared.
#
Ngàl watched as the sun approached the mountains, looking occasionally at the book. They had prepared as best they could, arranging the bodies on the road to show their pride. The sleé chirrupped quietly at each other from farther down the road, where they had been told to stay after getting in the way too many times.
Now, in the last light of day, she began to read the funeral ceremony.
Khév-rr strà, Khév-rr síht, Khév-rr sàngt
Khàl ó-Khév ukkéràl-rr èr
Ìl ràlt, ìl khast, ìl làngt
To you the sun, to you the moons, to you the stars
To your longevity we entrust
These lives, these memories, these souls
Ngàl reached for Yàn, feeling his presence, his grief.
Ìl tleng ó-Khév reíng í áv
Khanà rèl í khangènn
Zhángàrr, Hérràk, Ngíssòk, Rís, Zàs.
May these five be forever yours
May Khanà guide the path
Zhángàrr, Hérràk, Ngíssòk, Rís, Zàs.
The last orange rays of the setting sun shone on the bodies of Ngàl's family, gilding their fur with fire. The sun vanished finally, leaving only the ruddy glow coming from behind the mountain. The orange faded, blue, then black speeding across the sky.
They stood vigil through the impenetrable night, staring unseeing into the blackness, the moons and stars above casting no light to see by.
With the dawn, they turned, waiting for the sun's appearance. Light spilled into the cut, and crept down the cliff face. Finally, after an agonizing wait, the light touched them.
Ó-sstrà átsév ó-ennós álél leíng sá
Lél akkyé hussáv
Áràl ràl állek
The sun's birth always defeats night's death
The dead are shells
The living still alive
Átsév taksò
Khas takkán-ràllos érsek
Skú! khàl álél sánef
New birth comes
The memory is shared
Thus! we cheat death.
