the hymn of the kravenas and
the symphony of abanir
The eventide came and it was time for the Kravena Tribe to celebrate Thanksgiving. Abundant food and jars of rice wine were served at the festivity. In the face of it, Datu Ilak ordered his army to be vigilant. The enemies might, once again, attack at any moment.
All over the terrain were the high spirits of singing and dancing, but Abanir was mute and listless. His pining for the human never withered but flourished abundantly with each day that passed.
In his cavernous thoughts, a female came within his reach and greeted him. “Your Highness,” she said and bowed down, in all her finery.
Recognizing the voice, Abanir put his response on hold. He knew it was Tiyana, the daughter of the datu’s top adviser, and this swirled him on hot water. He’d been hearing the whispers in the high court about a possible tie between him and her. Tiyana was the jewel in her father’s crown, and this meant she had a hitch to the throne.
Abanir endeavored to get away, for a big breath of air. This was not what he’d been wishing for. It had always been Sophia, only her!
“Lately, your face is gloomy, My Raha. I fear for your wellness.” As these words escaped Tiyana’s pale lips, Abanir was already giving Rabel signs to take her away and dance with her, which was granted without too much delay. Abanir was out of sorts and could not deal with any small talk. His mind and heart were too. Dim. Neither the moonshine nor the twinkling stars succeeded in igniting these.
Moaning, he left the merriment and stayed up, in the gust of air, thinking of his beloved, Sophia. Up in the distance, he could hear his fellow Kravenas chanting the tribe’s hymn.
O’er the plains and dusky forest;
Behold the grandeur of our mighty wings;
O’er the rush of river flowing;
Behold the paramount of our firm well-being;
White and pure are our mighty wings;
So are our hearts that gleefully sing;
United, we surmount unwavering;
With our stronghold, we’ll be soaring.
For hours, Abanir steadfastly listened to the exults from the land. In the emergence of the sun, he lingered, suspended through the gentle wind. Fondly, he intoned his sentiments out, as well,
With endless hopes, I gaze at the mountains;
Through the clouds, I am uncertain;
Higher I soar, nothing but green;
Afar, thy shadows I see;
Rested my eyes, aroused by the truth;
You’re a world apart, I cry;
Howls of pining, I pray they cease.
“You’ll be back. I feel it,” Abanir mumbled to himself, referring to Sophia, and finally, he went back to their territory.
At home, Abanir avoided the distractions. He had no heart to listen to the highlights of the last night’s fête. His heart was somewhere else.
“My son, where have you been?” Datu Ilak queried upon seeing Abanir. “You have missed the blissful parts of the festivity!”
“Father, I heard them. You were jubilant.” Abanir bowed down before his father.
“Where have you been all night?” The melancholy in his son’s bearing never skipped Datu Ilak’s eyes. “Have you been thinking of the human lately?” he asked, looking through every corner of Abanir’s eyes.
Abanir, although he was doubtful in confessing it, nodded. He knew he had to show vitality and all, but there were no more left of the remaining drive he had whenever he set off, these past days, during Sophia’s absence.
This made Datu Ilak’s worry intensify.
“Shall I be honest with you, My son?” Datu Ilak temporarily set aside his supremacy and focused on his fatherly role, instead. Then he put both hands over Abanir’s and witnessed those changing colors of his son’s eyes, signifying emotional instability. “That human… and you,” Datu Ilak said and took a hard time selecting the words that could hurt his son less, “you two are worlds apart. You must understand that.”
Listening to his father, Abanir’s melancholic face turned cloudier. His silence could resound into stream of tears, waiting to be unleashed.
The moment was harder for Datu Ilak, yet it didn’t stop him from spilling his main concern. “You have a tribe to protect, My son. This is no time for weakness. Reigning is a privilege and you have to sacrifice for it. It is given to you by hand. Do not fail it,” he stressed and looked even more serious. “Your entire tribe needs you. If you have to fight against the enemies once more, make sure it is the human that you give up. Not the battle,” he concluded, acting heartlessly, for once, and then left.
Abanir tightened his hands to the fullest. He loved his tribe more than anything else… but he loved Sophia, too. What choice was left for him to make?