Page 28 of Rhaz’s Redemption (Shifters of Valo Prime #6)

Rhaz

Things were moving forward now. Over the next few days Beatrice’s timidness around me started to fade away. I would smile at her and she would smile back. She still chewed on her bottom lip when she was feeling shy or nervous, but she no longer looked at the ground when speaking with me.

This afternoon, she sat at the base of one of the fruit trees and looked beyond beautiful as the sun trickled through her dark curly hair. She was writing on one of the dried raka leaves, and I was curious what she was writing about.

“May I sit?” I gestured to the ground next to her and Beatrice looked up at me with a smile and moved over so I could also fit under the base of the tree.

I looked over her shoulder and peered down at the strange symbols she drew onto the leaves. “What are you writing?”

“Oh,” Beatrice looked up at me then back down at the raka leaf. “I’ve been writing down the stories the elders have been telling me about your history.”

“Why? As the next generation grows up we will tell them the same stories our elders told us.”

“Yes, you all have an oral tradition of passing down your stories verbally, but my people have a tradition of writing things down so things do get forgotten.”

“I don’t think our stories will ever get forgotten,” I replied. My people have told the same stories over and over for many generations. We valued the sharing of knowledge in this way.

“There are people from my homeworld who thought the same thing,” she replied. “But then their elders and teachers were killed in large numbers, and their history was forgotten. All we know of certain people groups is what the neighboring people groups wrote down.”

“I see,” I looked down at her strange symbols again and tried to make sense of them, but failed.

“What story are you writing now?”

“I just finished the story about the goddess and the turtle,” Beatrice replied.

“That’s a good one,” I nodded. “There’s much wisdom in that story.”

“Yeah, I agree. I think it’s one of my favorites.” Beatrice looked over at me and asked. “Which story is your favorite?”

I thought for a long moment before responding, but eventually settled on one. “My favorite is from the old world. My mother used to tell me this story before bed when I struggled to fall asleep.”

My chest tightened as I thought about my mother who had passed to the city of souls.

I didn’t talk about her very often. The memory of her loss was often too painful to bear even after all these years, but I liked the idea of telling Beatrice about her.

I’d kept the memory of her buried within me for too long.

It was time I let her memory live on somewhere besides my own heart.

I must have been silent for a long while because suddenly I felt Beatrice’s hand on mine. “Do you miss her?”

“Yes,” I nodded, and I was tempted to confess that I see my mother every time I die, but it didn’t feel right to share that just yet.

“Will you tell me about her someday?” her voice was both gentle and comforting.

“I’d like that. I think she would have liked you,” I added.

“I think my family would have liked you too,” she smiled.

Beatrice rested her hand on mine for another long moment then lifted it to her writing stone and waited patiently for me to begin.

“This story is from the old world,” I began again.

“There was a great hunter named Talakra who was challenged to a fight with his neighbor Saludro. But when it came time to fight, Talakra laid down his spear and offered his hand to Saludro as a sign of peace. But Saludro didn’t want peace he wanted a fight, so he raised his spear and slayed Talakra in front of the entire village.

Everyone was so disgusted with Saludro for spilling blood that didn’t need to be spilled that they turned on him and slayed him.”

“Talakra was very brave,” Beatrice commented.

“Yes, he chose to be vulnerable even though it cost him everything. I’ve always thought that was the bravest thing a person could do.”

“Is that what it feels like being with me? Vulnerable?”

“Sometimes yes,” I nodded my head. “This is all new to me. It’s scary, but worth it.”

Beatrice tucked here hair behind her ear and shyly looked away. I put my finger on her chin and turned her head back toward me. “Don’t be shy about that. You are worth it, every second of every day.”

“Okay,” she whispered and a ghost of a smile played on her lips.

I gave her a warm smile of my own and she relaxed. Then she began writing the story I’d told her on the leaf.

“What is that word?” I pointed to the first word she’d written.

“That says the .”

When I stared at her not understanding, she chuckled and pointed to the symbols she’d drawn as the read them aloud.

“The sky is a clear today, and the ice crystals on the leaves make it look like a beautiful shimmering landscape.”

“Beautiful, where is that word?” I asked. Beatrice was beautiful. If there was ever a word I wanted to learn how to write it would be that one.

She writes all these stories about our history and what’s happening in our dekes, but who writes about her? I would learn what words I could. She would not be lost to history. She will be remembered as much as everyone else.

“Wait right here,” I requested then ran into the cabin to grab another dried leaf.

“Show me,” I asked as I sat back down next to her. “Show me how to write the word beautiful.”

“Okay,” she looked up at me with her glittering brown eyes that twinkled with joy. I think she liked that I was interested in her record keeping.

She took the raka leaf I had in my lap and slowly wrote the letters out so I could see the way her hand moved. Then she handed the leaf and writing stone to me.

“You try,” she suggested, and I was happy to do so.

I took the rock in my hand and tried to replicate the symbols she had written, but by the third one, it was clear that I wasn’t getting anywhere. My symbols, or letters as she called them, didn’t look anything like hers.

“Here, let’s do it together.”

Beatrice scooted closer to me then put her hand on top of mine. My tail thumped the ground as soon as we made contact and my heart started to race inside my chest.

Beatrice looked behind us at my tail and flashed me a coy smile. It made me wonder if she knew how much she effected me. Every look, every smile, even her very scent drove me wild. Being near her was heaven, almost like living in a dream.

She wrapped her fingers around mine then began to move my hand in hers. Together we drew the letters that made the word “beautiful”.

Her touch lingered longer than it needed to and I relished in her warmth. I wanted to stay like this forever, connected, for all of time.

“And that’s how you write beautiful,” she commented as she pulled away.

“Th-thank you,” I struggled to speak for a moment before I was able to compose myself again.

“I’ll keep this forever and think of you,” I replied truthfully, and I would. Beatrice was beautiful in every way possible.

“You’re quite the flirt when you want to be,” she laughed. I’d heard this word before. Flirt . It was a way to describe wooing a female.

“I am a flirt for you,” I purred and she tucked her hair behind her ear to hide the big grin on her face.

“Will you write your name? I want to see what it looks like.”

“Sure,” she took the leaf in her hands again and drew more letters. Her name looked elegant when written out. Like a flower with many petals. It was long with many shapes just like Beatrice who had many sides to her.

“Can you write my name next to yours?”

“Hmm,” she paused and looked up at me. “We don’t have your name in my language. I’d have to make up a spelling for it if that’s alright.”

“That sounds fine to me.”

She drew my name next to hers and it was so small I nearly laughed. R-H-A-Z. That was it, just four letters.

“I’m half your size,” I teased.

“In name only,” she replied with a grin. “You’re very big everywhere else.”

Her gaze drifted from my arms, to my chest, and then lower.

“I don’t know about that. Besides Axon, I’m one of the shortest hunters in our dekes.”

“You might be short for a Sirret, but you’d still be tall for a human.” Beatrice’s gaze shifted back up to the top of my horns, which only served to emphasize her statement. Compared to her I was tall, even without my horns.

The sky had been turning gray as we talked under the fruit tree, and then the second snow of the season was upon us. Big white flakes drifted down from the sky quickly coating everything around us.

“I better get these inside before they get wet,” Beatrice commented as she rushed to gather the leaves she’d been writing on. I helped her pack up and together we made our back into the warm cabin.