I need a sign
to let me know you’re here.
All of these lines are being crossed
over the atmosphere.
I need to know
that things are gonna look up,
Cause I feel us drowning in a sea
spilled from a cup,
When there is no place safe
and no safe place to put my head,
When you can feel the world shake
from the words that I said.

And I’m calling all angels
And I’m calling all you angels

And I won’t give up if you don’t give up
I won’t give up if you don’t give up
I won’t give up if you don’t give up
I won’t give up if you don’t give up

I need a sign
to let me know you’re here.
Cause my tv set
just keeps it all from being clear.
I want a reason
for the way things have to be.
I need a hand
to help build up some kind of hope inside of me.

And I’m calling all angels
And I’m calling all you angels

When children have to play inside
so they don’t disappear,
While private eyes solve marriage lies
'cause we don't talk for years,
And football teams are kissing queens
and losing sight of having dreams,
In a world where all we want
is only what we want until it’s ours.

And I’m calling all angels
And I’m calling all you angels
And I’m calling all angels
(I won’t give up if you don’t give up)
And I’m calling all you angels
(I won’t give up if you don’t give up)
Calling all you angels

Train - "Calling All Angels"

***
     Haaji woke trembling, all his fur standing on end. For a moment, he just sat there in his nest and caught his breath. The dreams were getting bad again.
     His trembling calmed slowly as he tried to erase the memory of the nightmare from his mind. Ever since that night, seven years ago, his young mind was tormented by shadowy half-memories and imagined horrors. Every single night. For a while, he'd thought that they were going to fade and eventually disappear, but now, seven years after the loss of his parents, they've returned full force. Stronger, even, than the first few years when he could hardly close his eyes for fear of seeing... seeing... he shook his head. No, best not to remember while he was awake.
     He sensed his eldest brother moving around, and winced slightly. He'd awakened them again. Djissa'Shrashi appeared and sent him a quiet, worried thought. The dreams again, ssavi? Haaji nodded. His brother sat down, then curled around the perimeter of the younger sira's small nest and yawned. Why do you think they've returned? It's been years...
     Haaji shrugged and looked down, smoothing his fledging feathers. He couldn't quite mind-speak yet, so he kept his voice soft as he answered, so he didn't wake his twin nieces. His brother was much, much older than he.
     "They're worse, now. I can see them... their faces..." he closed his eyes and swallowed hard. His brother laid a hand on his clenched fists, and pressed foreheads, but all Haaji could do was remember the last night his parents pressed foreheads with him as they put him to bed. He was still a young kit when they died, but the memories were as vivid now as they ever were.
     He pulled away and shook his head, smiling faintly at his brother. "I'm sorry, ssavi, you should go back to bed. I'll be fine."
     Djissa didn't look convinced, but respected his brother's wishes and departed quietly. The nightmares had been happening for a while, there was really nothing he could say tonight that he hadn't already said. His presence had calmed Haaji's distress, and that was enough.
     The young sira curled up in his nest and stared out into the darkness.
     Morning dawned gray; a rain was beginning over the canopy, and the clouds dulled what little light filtered through the trees. It cast a gloomy feeling over the whole day. Not that it really changed much in the way the tribe ran. The hunters came in as usual with their catches of the night, and the harvesters left early to seek out ripening fruit before it was damaged by too much sun or eaten by insects. The children played, the adults went about their daily chores, which didn't consist of much, since sira didn't have clothing to wash, or large houses with many possessions to clean, like the humans did.
     Haaji was young enough that he was still considered a kit, though he was larger by at least a good quarter-height than the other kits in the tribe. And yet for all his height, he was far more delicate than the other kits, getting more injuries with their play. Then again, that wasn't all just because of his body shape; the other kits tended to pick on him, he suspected because of his pale fur and feathers. He didn't know of any other sira that were as light as he. That difference, coupled with his fragility and the fact that he was parentless, combined to make him a favorite target of the stronger, more mean-spirited kits. Their teasing manifested not only in cruel jokes, but sometimes physical aggression as well.
     He didn't know it, but in human terms, he felt like a teenager stuck in third grade. It was not a happy feeling, and he intended to get away from it as soon as possible.
     By the time he could mind-speak, he had decided to move out of his brother's care and take on the responsibilities of a full adult. His flight feathers hadn't finished growing in yet, nor had his ridge completely disappeared, but he needed to escape the perception that he was still a kit. He had lost that particular innocence when his parents died.
     At first he wondered where he'd live after moving out, but he needn't have worried. Siran tribes fluctuated with the coming and going of members as they found mates in other tribes or brought their bonded home. It was pure luck that had one of the older, un-bonded adults leave to find his mate elsewhere. Naturally, he left his small dwelling to whomever happened to claim it, and, as no one else seemed inclined to move in, Haaji leapt at the chance.
     His brother said he was sorry to see him go, but Haaji had felt that ever since he'd been able to sense their presences, if not the very moment they'd taken him in, he'd been something of a nuisance to his older brother. Sure it may not be true, but that's the way he felt nonetheless.
     So it was that Haaji moved his few possessions from the small room he shared with his nieces into the relatively spacious home. It was a small dwelling, compared to his brother's, but that was partly because it was built for one person, and never added onto. To the young sira, it was as close to perfect as he could have hoped for.
     Time passed, and, though the young sira had grown into his full adult plumage and status, things were still not quite right. Then again, he doubted they could ever be 'right' for him. It made him sad sometimes, as he lay curled in his nest at night, when his only company was the moonlight streaming in through his window, and the only sound he heard was his own breathing and the wind whispering to him from outside his little cabin. He would remember his childhood and try to shed a tear for his parents, but he had no tears left. He would think of his present situation and wonder what the future held. And then, when he thought of the future, all he could see was an endless cycle of days and years, unending and never changing. The days circled each other and spiraled down and down into a blackness that swallowed any light of hope that might have existed.
     It was during those lonely nights that he began to lose faith in his people's traditions, though he didn't realize it at the time.