"It's as she says," the Ok'owik Ajkun murmured, as water raced out of the half dead trog, and congregated around light blue feathers placed in the nubs of the two missing limbs. The water circled around the flesh pulling debris and rot away from the edges of the wounds as blood trickled out slowly like rivers filling dried tributaries once forgotten. Arteries and veins formed as the blood found old trails familiar to the body.
"This 'thing' is incubating the spirit of our ancestors." The disgust of the Ok'owik Ajkun was palpable to the other three Ajkuns in the hut with her.
"Sister you must consider how the currents are converging" The Ajchikaj Ajkun playfully ran her dark green claw through the Ok'owkik's feathers before plucking one of her blue feathers from her nape. She slithered towards the other two Ajkuns, placing herself in between the two– tracing invisible trails through their feathers with the tips of her claws.
"Our people grow weaker. We lose the connection we once shared with our land…" She plucked another feather from each of the Ajkuns before walking back towards the unconscious creature on her table. "...With our ancestors."
The Ulew Ajkun rubbed her neck in irritation at having one of her scarlet feathers plucked. The follicles of the Ulew were tougher than the other Suqs.
The Ajchikaj held the three unique looking feathers in between her fingers. Each glistened in the light of the flame dancing in the dark of night. She took the slimmest of the three and slowly pierced the quill through the green sinew of Shakti's head.
"The hatchlings grow restless– uncertain of their place in our world."
The blue feather vibrated quietly over the trogs skin. She then plucked one of her own green feathers from herself and placed the quill by the slim blue Ok'owik feather and watched as they both shivered in their new host.
"As they should."
The ajkun sunk the short Ulew feather between the other two. Unlike the other two it trembled with an intensity that put the four ajkun on edge. It sank deeper into the skin, as if being engulfed by thick mud. All that was left on the surface was the pattern of the scarlet and black striped barbs. It settled itself as quickly as it started.
The Ajchikaj cowered at the sight, clenching the last feather firmly under both her claws. She looked at her sisters in turn.
Each nodded– slow, certain– granting her permission to continue with the ritual.
The last feather was of the Aq'a'l Ajkun. Its barbs were the most iridescent of the four– colors shifted and transitioned to other hues depending on the angle it was seen from.
Or the person that was observing it.
Those who knew how to manifest the properties of the aq'a'l feathers were considered to be the most awakened of the Suq. It held the possibilities of all currents past present and those not yet made.
The Ajkun carefully injected the quill over the other three and waited with her sisters to see if the last feather would be accepted just like those of her sister tribes.
Outside, frogs croaked and insects droned—but inside, the silence was sacred, strained, as though the very hut held its breath. The feather lay still as it shifted colors and brightness before it slowly began to bleed into a black that was darker than night.
The other three feathers melted into the same darkness before dissolving into the skin.
No one dared to move as they watched their feathers merge into a creature they knew nothing about.
In a way they've never seen their feathers accept a vessel– let alone all four of them together.