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@Lion! I'm the worst at coming up with thread titles. D:]]
The rearing of a Sirrush clutch was serious work. And this was the first time Kaya Nawar Aram would be responsible for her own! The hatching of the clutch, and the subsequent care of the hatchlings, was a major undertaking for the parents - all three of them, in Kaya's 'herd' - and for the Sirrush breeder. With temperamental adults and vulnerable hatchlings, Kaya and her Sirrush left her tribe and set up camp on their own. For the hatching and first month or so of the hatchlings lives, they would seek out a safe and secluded spot in the desert to tend to the young. Somewhere secluded enough to avoid bandits and predators, but sheltered enough to protect the young (and the rest of them) from the desert elements, and close enough to a well that Kaya could go collect water every few days. And hospitable enough to keep the small herd of goats that would feed the Sirrush during these tenuous times.
And Kaya had found somewhere perfect. On her own! A shrubby hillside on the border of a sand sea, topped with jagged, bare rock formations that would provide the perfect nesting place for the Sirrush, and cover for all of them. The nest and Kaya's tent could easily be hidden between the rocks. So this is where they'd spend the next few months: Kaya, the three Sirrush, a small herd of goats, a dog whose primary job was to look after said goats, and a donkey.
It was the donkey that Kaya was leading down to the well, a little more than an hour's journey from her camp. But when they arrived, the young Alawi girl gave a gasp. Because there was something
else at the well other than water! Laying face-down besides the well was a... a
man!. Dressed in northerners' clothing, he was laying face-down in the sand, unconscious or maybe even
dead.Kaya looked urgently around for any bandits who might have ambushed him at the well, but there was no one. A lost traveler who had underestimated the desert, she guessed. She looked at the donkey, as if for guidance. "You're right," she said begrudgingly, "I have to check."
Cautiously, she approached the man, little by little, as though he were some dangerous animal that might bite her. When she got close enough, she gave him a little nudge. But he didn't move. Grimacing, she got a little bit closer to push him hard enough to turn him over. He definitely was a northerner. She could tell by his skin which, while probably normally fair, was burned red from the sun. Nearly as red as the dark red hair matted against his forehead. But he was breathing. Kaya could see the shallow rise and fall of his chest. "Um, hello?" she asked tenuously, nudging him with her boot. No response.
Hm. Kaya drew water from the well, pouring a little bit of it over the man's face. Still no response. Well. There was no way around it. If she left him here, he wouldn't still be breathing for long. Kaya drew the water to fill the two large jugs she'd brought along - they'd still need water, even more so if the man survived - and then looked at the donkey. "We can't just
leave him," she said, as if anticipating the donkey's protest. The only challenge was getting the man onto the donkey. "Just, don't kick him off, okay?"
Then Kaya braced herself to lug the man upwards, nearly falling over under his weight. But she was stronger than she looked, and in a few minutes of awkward manhandling, she managed to get the man up onto the donkey, who brayed in protest. Time to head back.
When he woke, the man would find himself alone in a tent, laying on a bed of colorful rugs. Worst of all for Kaya, he'd find himself peeled out of the torn and tattered, salt-encrusted clothing she'd found him in (and it had been quite a job, undressing and redressing a man with her eyes scrunched closed through half of it!). Instead, he'd find himself in a tunic that, sure, was long on Kaya, but came down only mid-thigh on the man. It was the only thing she'd had that'd fit him!
