Diaspora

Maisy Sternhagen
 Prologue:
Her round blue eyes reflected moonlight like an owl’s, trying to see even just
the outlines of unfamiliar trees. It was no use, the night time here was just too dark
this time of year, so the baby cried out for help. She was young, far too young to be
alone in a forest with no protection or means of self defense.
As if in response to her cries, a deep howling sound echoed through the low
hanging ikis trees, drowning the infant in a new and more urgent type of fear. The
nocturnal fauna fell silent at the call of the predatory pack, filling the air with heavy
expectancy.
The seconds ticked by and even the child fell silent, straining to hear where
the creatures were prowling. A snap of a twig nearby gave the hunters away, and
the outline of a lanky, ape-like creature made it’s way into the child’s view. A large
group of the creatures appeared behind the first, and together they crept their way
towards the swaddled baby. The child took in the horrendous creatures, and she
bleated out in sharp, anguished cries. The largest creature stared her unblinkingly
in the face. It’s head, too small in comparison to its eight foot build, harbored three
eyes and four horns jetting from it’s sides. Gnarly canines jutted up from its
bottom jaw, undoubtedly for piercing flesh. Thick, wiry hair covered the giants,
except for the ends of their six limbs, where strange appendages similar to hands
were connected.
The animals were hesitant- by this time most of their prey would be dead
and half gone by now, but the leader of the pack had not signaled for an attack yet.
It watched the baby with its three curiosity filled emerald eyes. Jabara, the pack
leader (and much like many creatures on this strange planet) was an intellectual
capable of thought, empathy, and sentience. Self-awareness and the awareness of
others. And most importantly, Jabara was capable of curiosity. With this curiosity
and the omen that echoed back through her mind, she made a decision: she would
spare this child's life. A erall, Jabara had no idea what it was, humans are not native
to her home world, and this peach-fleshed stranger sparked something in her.
Jabara turned to her pack and called out thunderously “We will spare this
young! Hear the words we’ve heard for seasons, of the omen passed to us from our
ancestors: ‘Her mother our forest and father another planet, a young alien will be birthed to
our land. She will save us. Spare her, and light her torch.’ Jabara let the words ring in the
ears of her folk for a moment. Murmurs rippled through them eagerly. “Our gods
have gi ed us life to heal our dying world! We will spare her as our gods have
intended for us to do, her flesh is not enough to feed us, she is not the gi of food,
but of light. Take her to our village, and treat her as our own or more, teach her
ways of the Utumba.”
Her people hesitated for a moment, uncertainty plaguing their thoughts. A
cry from a member of Jabara’s tribe sang out with excitement, “We’re saved!” The
rest of the Utumba began to join, howling in celebration at the hope of a savior.
 The ikis trees seemed to listen, and even their droopy tendrils perked up.
They sang to the other plants of the wonderful news, who sang to the insects, who
sang to the small kamris scuttling along the floor. In what seemed like overnight, all
of the west district seemed to hum with hope, and countless unique cultures
trekked many days to find Jabara’s tribe and meet the prophecy child, Zuri, who
was thoughtfully named a er the forest god’s daughter.