Teyla clenched her jaw, her gaze on the snow-covered mountains rising like hoary shrines to the tree-less gods who dwelled in high places. Yet she did not ponder their chiseled gray, or their stained crags. She saw nothing of them, for in her mind was the face of a weeping child, small fists clamped to her mother’s skirts.
Hours before, she had smiled at the little girl, remembering the children in her own village upon sight of her twin pigtails and the way the sunlight shone midnight on her raven hair. The young one had smiled back as juice from a fruit stained her chin while she took a bite, making Teyla laugh. A few hours after that she’d seen the girl again, clinging to her mother, in the frantic scramble for shelter as Wraith darts screamed overhead.
She and her teammates had done all that they could to attempt to defend the village, but many were taken. She had wandered the streets in the aftermath, aiding survivors. Ronon was at her side and paused to help a shopkeeper raise what was left of his stall from the dust.
It was Teyla who saw her first, for both males had their backs turned as they leaned the lumber against the side of a nearby structure. The little girl had been crushed underneath – the victim of her own panicked species. Her tear-trails had dried as filthy stains, and her lips were slightly parted, mimicking peace. If not for the dark mash on the side of her head and the flies that already began to hover, she could have been asleep.
She waited now near the jumper while Sheppard and McKay made promises to the village leaders that more people from Atlantis would return to offer what aid they could. Empty promises, void of reassurance. They could not stop the Wraith from coming, and they could not defeat them. There was no end to the fear, the darkness, the anger, and the waste.
The little girl’s face was before her again, her almond-shaped eyes dancing as she smiled back at the pretty lady, her chubby cheeks kissing the fruit’s flesh. Such wonder, such joy, such pleasure in the little delights of a juicy treat. Such a bright light now gone out.
Her shoulder companion was ever silent, statuesque, like a stony guardian of the monoliths in the distance. She eyed him out of the corner of her eye and felt her lip twitch, sneer-like. His expression was passive, at ease, even, his jade eyes drinking in the mountains before him. His peace burned her chest and flushed her cheeks. She ground her molars, exhaled and turned to face him. His lack of response angered her further.
“How can you just stand here, so at peace with what has happened – with what we have just witnessed?”
He blinked, shifted his weight and crossed his arms over his chest. “What exactly did we ‘just witness’?”
She narrowed her eyes, batting an insect away from her face. “The little girl, the child you uncovered. She died for no reason.”
He continued to watch the mountains. Teyla waited. He did not speak. She closed her eyes to collect herself. She spoke again, “She was killed by human negligence. By the chaos of a Wraith attack, not by the Wraith themselves. Does this not bother you?”
His eyes flicked to the rock-strewn loam beneath his boots. He did not speak.
“She was... so young, so full of life. Who knows what she would have contributed to her world, to us. But now that chance is lost, to us all, for she is dead. Dead, Ronon. By accident.”
He looked to her then, and his eyes were like new leaves when their youthful green is haloed by the sun’s golden rays. Once they locked onto hers she felt her anger at him melt away, and she looked to her own feet, then the mountains once more. “I am sorry,” she apologized. “I did not mean to sound so...”
“It’s alright.”
She felt her shoulders continue to tense. “It is just so... so wasteful. So utterly pointless.” A warm tear slid over her high cheekbone as her throat began to throb. She turned her head the opposite direction from him and bit the inside of her left cheek, angry with herself for crying. But the pulsating pain chocked her and she let out a small sob. The small goosebumps on the back of her neck told her that his eyes were still on her. More tears escaped and she turned around to face him once more, the thin line between his brows making her heart flutter with ache. “It is just all so senseless. Everything. Life... Death...” She noticed his shoulders rise and fall like the swaying limb of a tree in the wind as he took a deep breath. “I just...” she wiped at her tears with her shoulder. “I just sometimes have trouble seeing any point in it all, especially when faced with such utter waste.”
His eyes wandered to the reddened earth before her feet.
“If this is what happens, despite all we have done...” His eyes returned to hers. “...Despite the many battles we have fought, then what is the meaning in any of it? What is the purpose of life itself?”
He sighed and turned away from her, studying the wild grasses that grew just behind the decaying log before him, tossing gently in the forest-breath. She sniffed, her tears having stopped, and she fought back shame at her weakness before one so poised. Long moments passed as her heartbeat calmed and she felt the skin of her cheeks grow taught with the drying tears. When he spoke her lips parted, for she did not expect the eloquent rumble of his voice, nor even an attempt at an answer.
“Life is...” He turned his eyes to the treetops that rustled and creaked in living secrets. “...A whisper.”
Her head was slightly cocked, and she could not look away from his profile. He glanced back at her, and his eyes flickered over her frame, focusing on something in the distance to her side. “...A kiss in a dream.” They met hers again, and she held her breath at their intensity before a small butterfly flew between them and his gaze tracked it away from her.
She waited, but the trees filled the pause in speech. He did not say more, but after a few breaths, turned to look at her again. Their eyes met, and brown shied away from green, timid in their sudden depth, soothed by their cruelty-earned wisdom. She looked to the sun-crested tops of the foliage, replaying his words in her mind, the husk of his voice resounding in her ears and heart.
A small smile tugged at the corners of her lips and she looked to him again. He was once more keeping vigil over the mountains, yet after a few heartbeats he looked down and self-consciously to her. Her smile blossomed a bit more, and his own smile, almost bashful, began to alight on his face.
“Well, I can’t say that we have anything in particular to gain from this, but it’s been an experience nonetheless.” McKay’s nasal drawl broke the moment, and both turned away from the other, composing in a breath, facing their teammates.
“Give ‘em a break, Rodney, their village was just attacked. What did you expect?” Sheppard uncloaked the jumper and stepped inside after a curt nod and a “hey guys” to Teyla and Ronon.
“Nothing – let’s just... get home.” McKay buckled himself in, short tempered when of low blood sugar as he was at the moment.
“That’s the idea...” Sheppard waited for Ronon and Teyla to step inside before closing the back and starting up the engines. McKay stared at the wall across from him, the corners of his mouth turned down.
As the ship lifted from the ground, Teyla stole a glance at the Satedan. He was watching the mountains below shrink as they climbed the sky. She turned to watch, too, the small smile returning.
Listen To The Wind
Listen To The Wind Home
I. Prologue: The Legends of Leaves
III. Shadows Dance Behind The Firelight
IV. We Thought Our Hearts Would Break
V. It Always Remains
VI. I'm Not Really Gone
VII. High Up In The Trees
VIII. Epilogue: Strong Wind