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The sun beat down upon the Azim Steppe with a fury that day. Not a cloud was in sight, and though the wind blew, the hot breeze offered no relief. Still, the markets of Reunion were loud and lively, and Auvo's little stall had grown somewhat popular over his last few visits. He wasn't selling much, a simple sign in Common read Crafting Available, but word hat gotten around that his crafts were good. He supposed a hundred years and some change of practice would class most races as experts. For a Viera, of course, he was expected to get much better. The mammoth tusk in his hands was easy enough to carve, and the leather sling was already done. Soon, the Gesi woman was walking away, telling her friend that his sling spears were the most accurate one could find. A Goro man wanted a saddle to make his wife proud. An Iriq wanted a comb of matamata shell. They all brought him the materials, and for a modest fee he'd craft whatever they wanted.
He smiled when he saw familiar deep red robes on an approaching woman.
"Would the Kha have me stay at your iloh again this year?" Auvo asked the young woman.
"Yes. We've timed our visit to Reunion just to hear your stories again, Tuulai," she answered.
For food and shelter, all the Kha asked was that he tell them stories of the peoples and customs he'd seen on his travels. It was part of their culture to learn about and from the rest of the world, and with Auvo being as travelled as he was, he was a wonderful source of other customs.
Tuulai was his last name. Ty gave it to him. It was what he went by on the Steppe.
"Then you may come and find me tonight," he promised. His grasp of Auri language was getting better. Much better than when he started visiting nearly half a century ago. "I still need to finish today's work."
The girl nodded and headed off into the market to speak to other foreign travelers.
The day only got hotter, and around noon Auvo found it much too hot to continue working. He finished up with his current craft (a fishing net for an Ejinn man) and left a tiny note on his stool that said 'Back when it cools down'. He wiped away some sweat and resolved to take Rona for a swim in the river. His poor ears were slick with sweat and that was no way for a Viera to present himself.
Rona was, as expected, exactly where he left her, in the shade of a nearby cliff. Her sleek black coat was shiny with the same sweat plaguing him, and her red-tipped whiskers were limp on the grass. She may have been used to the heat, but the constant sun was harder to deal with on the Steppe than in the jungle they were born in.
More surprising was the child sitting in his saddle. Rona paid them no mind, and they were clearly playing, but most children were far too afraid to approach his coeurl. Their clothes were a grassy green he didn't immediately recognize the tribe of. As soon as the child realized Auvo was headed their way, they abandoned their play and bounded over, full of energy.
As soon as the child reached earshot, Auvo stopped. It wasn't often that he listened to people's Mist. Perhaps it was that the child was the only one nearby, or perhaps it was the familiarity of the song their Mist sang. Even though Auvo had never heard it this quiet, even though it had been nearly thirty years, he knew this song.
Altai.
It hit like a tonze of bricks. Ty, the first person Auvo could understand in Eorzea. Ty, who had taught him to fight as a Dragoon. Ty, who'd beaten him until he was out cold and taken him to be treated for Tempering. Ty, who he had found dead after the Naadam. Whose bracelet was tied around Auvo's wrist, and whose soul crystals laid dormant beside his own in his pocket. His best friend.
The boy—now that he was closer, Auvo could tell—stopped only a couple of yalms away.
"Is he yours?" he asked eagerly.
It took him a few ticks to get his mouth to work. "She's mine," he finally choked out.
"I've never seen a tamed baras! Or one that looks like her."
Auvo supposed if the boy had never left the Steppe, a baras was the closest animal he'd know to a coeurl.
"She's...not a baras. Related, still... a big cat. She's a coeurl." His words were slow, like syrup in the snow. He was still reeling from the song, and it made the third language more difficult to put together. "Are you... allowed to talk to me? Parents?"
"Father buys a rug from you every year. And if you've tamed a cat, you must be a good person. Cats are trustworthy," the boy insisted.
"You weren't scared of her?"
"She has a saddle! That means she's safe."
That was absolutely not the case, but Auvo didn't see the point in fighting it at the moment.
"What's your name?" he asked the boy instead.
"My tribe calls me Little Root. I'll get my name next summer."
"Your tribe...?"
"Tumet!"
Auvo didn't know much about the Tumet, perhaps he'd ask the Kha tonight.
"Well, Little Root Tumet, I'm Auvo. And my coeurl is Rona."
"Rona," Little Root repeated. "Can I ride her?"
Auvo glanced over to where Rona was scrunched up in what remained of the shade and panting like her life depended on it.
"'s too hot. You can pet her and give her a treat, though."
Auvo followed the eager boy to his loyal mount. Rona lifted her head at his approach and whined. He'd left her with plenty of water, but the ice crystals shard was dim. He replaced it, letting the water cool down some for her.
Little Root was tracing the spots on her flank.
"How'd you tame her?" he asked.
"I raised her from a cub. Spent her whole life training and working with her," Auvo answered.
"So it's not like proving yourself to a yol?"
"...prove myself to her all the time. Keep her fed, safe, warm or cool. Fight beside her when something's too big for one of us alone."
Little Root listened, enraptured, as Auvo described how he'd trained Rona. He was eager to learn, especially about her abilities to fight.
He wasn't Ty. Ty was dead, his bones fed the grasses of the Steppe. But he had a hunger in his eyes that was the same.
The hours wore on, and Auvo had to return to his stall. He stood, stretched, and looked down at Little Root before coming to a decision.
He reached into his pocket, and drew out a blue crystal into the afternoon light. The dragon's face carved into one side was weathered, but beautiful all the same.
"Take this. If it calls you, come find me again and I'll show you how to use it."
Little Root took Ty's soul crystal with some confusion. It didn't immediately bind to him, but given his age that was expected. Auvo didn't bid him farewell, or give him any well-meaning advice. He couldn't find the right words, and he didn't know which ones the boy needed.
He had a line waiting when he returned to work.
---
Seven years later, a grinning young man with a spear on his back held the crystal back out to him like a trophy
"You can teach me?"
Auvo nodded. "We'll have to leave the Steppe. Are you ready for that?"
Somehow, the grin got wider.