Garbage Day

With a soft, hollow, clap Koh clapped her beak open and shut an unorganized number of times. Half the party was off exploring the rest of the cave. Koh though? Koh was flat on her back, feathers ruffled and disorganized, almost exactly where the orcs had nearly trampled her and her hollow bones underfoot.

As her head and throat came back to rest, her bill pointed towards the ceiling. Her head was pounding. For the moment, they were safe.

She sighed, “bugger.”

Reaching over and almost behind her, the decelan blindly fished for her lute. The instrument had been tossed carelessly aside mid-combat. He was close, Koh could feel it. She was always keenly aware of where her Gumnut was. The old bloke had been with her through the skies and now on the ground.

Finally, her feathers found and gripped the neck of the loose lute. She trilled in some kind of satisfaction as she brought her wings and the instrument above her head and brought them to rest on her chest.

Not intending on moving, or doing anything about her pounding headache, she instead readied Gumnut and began to pluck out a song she knew well enough.

Strumming once, Koh sucked in air through her beak, displeased.

“Oi, no! Sharp…” She grumbled.

The strings had been jammed and disconfigured, likely when she’d been knocked down. With a delicate touch, she set about twanging away at all fifteen strings, testing chords and individual notes with a uniquely tinty sound. This fluctuation continued until the sound came out clean and clear-- of proper pitch.

Humming in approval, Koh again readied Gumnut. The opening notes of the fugue she played, this time, continued with no interruptions.

Something intricate, but kind’ve melancholy all the same. Because these orcs and their caves are right bastards. Left my head ringing two days in a row, winds be damned.

Squinting at the ceiling, letting her nictitating membranes do most of the heavy lifting as she watched her companions rustle about the cave. Through her bill she breathed a sigh and continued to focus on the familiar feeling of Gumnut’s strings.

It’s been five months. And there’ve been slavers, strangers great and terrible, these fuckers…and I haven’t been prepared for any of it.

She plucked at the strings a little harder, making her song more pronounced as she played. Each chord and note came easy-- at least something did.

I’m not gonna get this right off the bat. Koh cajoled herself, I get to improve. We’ve gotta learn to play together, though. Nice n’ easy, hopefully, after a while.

Another sigh, this one lighter, escaped her as, sometime along the line, Odd joined her on the ground. Poor thing had seemed spooked by something. In the morning, Koh knew she’d ask. But, after a severe butt kicking, both of them were sufficiently bushed.

While Koh was not entirely sure how long she played Gumnut for, she found herself smiling little by little as each stanza and song passed. Laying on her back, still, staring blankly at the cave roof brought her some kind of comfort. It felt timeless, even the cold stone below her had begun to warm her as the indefinite moment carried on.

Her songs dimmed, quieting, as the party began to settle in for the evening. Quiet voices always accompanied music well. Having an audience, even a passive one, was soothing. That noise, even gentle snoring, reminded her that she was not alone.

I’m allowed to be ruffled. It’s been kind of awful. Her beak clapped again, thoughtfully, Even I’ve got to get some tuning here and there, eh Gumnut? Can’t be right all the time, gotta find my own rhythm here. Been outta sync for a little too long...

Maybe I’ll try armor and see if that’ll help. Birthday boy’s got the right of it. Koh mused, strumming still, feeling lighter with every note.

We’ll be all right. Just gotta keep adjusting, Koh assured herself as she transitioned into her last song-- a lullaby. Just gotta learn some new songs… and maybe get some headache medicine…