✖ Repressed Memory
A tiny hand reached up to try to grab the crimson hair that fell just outside of his tiny arm’s range, though the female holding him paid not mind to this. She was clutching him close to her chest running as quickly as her legs would carry her through the small camp. There were muffled sounds - a mixture of shrieks, the twang of bowstrings, war cries and screams. He was entirely too young to make out exactly what was going on yet it was too clear that there was definitely something.
The woman holding him tripped clutching him tighter against her chest as they fell to the ground to protect his small body with her own. There were several footsteps approaching behind her and she was practically trapped. She glanced around wildly, looking for something, anything - and she found it. A small space between the roots of the tree she’d fallen near and the ground, carefully placing him inside. No sooner had she started to pull back from him that her eyes widened, the sharp tip of a spear through her chest and only inches away from his face. The Ixali pulled the weapon from her chest before proceeding to plunge it back in again - as if to be sure. It had pulled back to attack again before suddenly being buffeted by a sudden gust of what seemed to be wind and away from the two Miqo'te.
He wasn’t sure what was happening beyond to the Ixali, his eyes focused on the woman laying before him. She was no longer moving, simply laying face down on the grass that was quickly becoming soaked with blood. A tiny hand reached out, crawling slowly out towards her. He reached to tug gently on her ear - there was no major movement from her.
After a few more moments a man knelt beside her and examining her before shaking his head and picking the tiny Miqo'te child up.
“…She’s beyond what I can help, kid.” The man stood, still holding the child before looking down at the glowing companion. “…Come on, Aether. I believe it would be unwise of us to linger here.”
The carbuncle simply gazed up at the man and the small Miqo'te seemed momentarily dazzled by it. There had only been a few steps before he realized he was being moved away from his mother, suddenly letting out a cry and squirming in the man’s arms. He was promptly re-situated in the man’s arms.
“…Look, nothing can be done. There’s more of those creatures about, you know. You might want to tone it down.” The man picked up his pace as he spoke.“…We’ll come back tomorrow, see if anyone is left. Anyone to take you in. But I’m not a hero, boy. I’m not fighting more of those damned Ixali to save some tribe of wild Miqo'te. No matter how much you cry at me.”