Post by Arrowbid on Aug 22, 2007 18:49:34 GMT -5
The Ballad of Hunter and Hunted
A great golden eagle screeched, circling high against the scorching sun it was a dark aquiline spec against the clear blue sky. A certain savage serenity was set about the regal creature, warmth and calmness along with a fierce sense of the hunt. Her dark pupils swept back and forth in her white feathered head, searching the grasslands and canyons for prey. Big enough to carry a man she was of a different kind, and all other birds fled before her. Claws gleaming in the sunlight she let out a noble eagles call, letting it echo throughout the canyons and waterfalls. Apparently something heard her as a darker shape suddenly appeared on the horizon. Streke’s massive body swelled up out of the morning sunshine and he crooned as he flew along side the eagle. The two of them screeched and swept back and forth over the canyons and scorching deserts. Streke had long wandered the forests since Wynd’s departure, finding no sign of life he joined in hunting with the golden eagles. Significantly larger he flew higher as to not draw attention.
A lithe figure darted out of the golden fields, and bounded up the side of an over hanging boulder. It was an old jack; the kangaroo leapt up the boulder and stood looking over its side. Miles below the scorching canyon lay a small river, the Jack scratched his head at this confused at where to go next. His tail swept casually scattering dust and his long ears twitched backwards as another screech filled the outback. He turned his muzzle to the sky and sniffed the dry air, the sun blinded him but two dark specs could be seen circling above. They seemed so small he took no mind and bent down in the red dirt to graze on the twigs and dry cracked grass, trying to get as much moisture out of them as possible. The gold eagle circled lower and swooped down at the jack, grasping at it with claws bared and tail spread out like a rudder. The kangaroo whipped around in surprise and dashed off fast as he could go and raced along the golden plateau and across the canyons edge. Streke growled and swept around the eagle and the jack, he glided along smoothly in the warm air and glanced down every second or so. A great rock structure jutted clear out of the canyon; he swept around it and flew clear at the kangaroo that then jumped quickly sideways as the dragon appeared in his path. Streke veered away as he was about to fly straight into the eagle but he swiftly got back on track and flew down at the jack. The kangaroo grew desperate, fur bristling he searched around frightened, jumping faster he raced along the red canyon. Suddenly the jack was swept up in the air as the eagle, not Streke, hit it, and he fell careening over the side of the canyon. Streke sighed as the eagle caught the kangaroo and flew away down the canyon side. He moved down the canyons edge slowly, circling exhausted and yawned sleepily. The eagle sailed away with the jack and slowly disappeared in the suns gleam. With tired eyes Streke looked down upon the canyons river, the suns reflection rippled gold streaks across its surface. He circled more until he reached the canyons bottom and landed with a cloud of dust at the rivers edge. Streke gulped up the cool water and licked his chops as his thirst drained away, and a warm breeze swept past him. “Well, better get going I suppose…”
Streke leapt up to the sky and sailed sleepily over the surface of the river and back towards the forest.
When Streke finally landed in the forest he was exhausted, leaves swirled up in the hot air at his arrival. Sun fell in dappled lengths and stretches as it gleamed down from the forests canopy and leaves twirled and fell as birds fluttered away. Deeper in the glade, life seemed more plentiful as there weren’t as many predators around. Dragons and men would have trouble maneuvering through it do to the dense undergrowth and remote location. Streke yawned and padded over to the outskirts of the green emerald trees; he plopped down on the cool grass and rested under the shade of a great oak. Sleepy from the heat of the summer day, he fell into a snooze beneath the grove of familiar green oak and aspen.
“Aargh!” Streke woke up with a start as he was suddenly splashed with water from the nearby river. “Who did that!?” he yelled angrily.
Streke rose to his feat drenched and walked out of the trees and spongy grass, there was a narrow river stretching clear through the forest. Trees surrounded its pebbled bank, but the sunlight hit the water un-obscured by the shade. Wynd was standing on the warm bank smirking, “Well look who decided to wake up! It’s sleeping beauty!”
“Shut up!” Streke growled, but then noticed the horse carcass and quickly forgot his anger.
“Yeah I thought so” laughed Wynd, as he watched his brother greedily chomp into the meat. Streke licked his chops and sat down next to the carcass; he stretched his pads out on the warm stones and let his tail rest in the cool flowing water. “Well you could have thought of a better way to wake me” he growled apprehensively.
“I didn’t wake you.”
“Then who did” said Streke annoyed.
“It was that guy” murmured Wynd.
A small silhouette flitted under the water and jumped out sliding up the river bank and an otter stumbled clumsily onto the rocks and shook himself, drenching Streke once more. The otter started to clean his fur, freeing it of the water and trapping air to prepare for the next dive. The otter went about drying himself in the sun, paying no mind to the two huge carnivores looming above him. Streke wandered up to it and stared coldly at it, he slammed his claws hard down at the furry little thing. But the otter jumped away just in time and stood back hissing, “Watch what your doing you overgrown lizard!”
Streke stood back surprised and still annoyed, “It talks... of course.” he said, still irritated. Many races have been able to understand one another’s tongues through interaction in their daily lives, but it was usually beings of a similar race. This otter must have met many dragons in order to understand them so well.
“What do you want fuzz ball!” growled Streke menacingly. He was full from the horse meat but could always find room for seconds.
“Nothing much, I just overheard your brother here talking awhile ago about some battle scene or such what. It’s probably none of my business but you can’t blame an otter for getting inquisitive.”
Before Streke could say anything the otter plunged back under the rivers surface once more, displacing the suns reflection. Streke whipped around to face his brother, “What battle scene?” he asked confused, although he didn’t expect the otter to be telling any truth in the matter.
Wynd looked up from grooming his scales with a serious look on his face. “There’s been something really weird going on lately” whispered Wynd, and he looked up into the blue sky as the form of some bird darted overhead. “I flew all over the forest and further still, and didn’t find a single living thing besides hordes of crows, and what’s worse… I saw a field covered in blood, but it wasn’t just humans at war this time.”
“Well then what was it for heavens sake!” spat Streke, growing more annoyed by the second.
“It was everything, all kinds of races. It’s as if they had all been gathered and then slaughtered there!”
“Even dragons?!” he murmured in shock. He shook his head at that, as far as he knew they were the last of the dragons to leave for the safe lands. Why in the world would anyone want to leave them?
“It was only one dragon, maybe it was just a straggler and got caught up in some human war or I don’t know. I just don’t like it, that’s all”, Wynd shrugged and lashed his tail agitated. The otter slid back up onto the warm rocks with a fish in his mouth and ducked just in time to avoid the dagger tip of Wynd’s tail.
“Hey watch it bud! I’m not armor plated you know!” hissed the otter.
“Yeah he knows” grumbled Streke, looking at the annoying pest with a devilish smile. The otter hissed at him and smoothed his fur out once more before biting into the catfish he had caught. Wynd gave the otter a weird look before turning back to Streke, “What do you think? After all, the crows have been acting strange too” he growled humbly, intrigued.
“I don’t care about crows or any war the humans have! As long as it doesn’t concern me then keep it to your self!” he snapped. Streke felt frustrated toward things unknown to him and didn’t want to consider that there could be something out there that could cause trouble for them. Turning away from Wynd he prowled over to the war horse and thrust his head angrily into the carcass, snapping at the muscles and tendons. Grabbing a flank, he whipped it into the air and cracked it in his jaw, and crunched the meat off, right down to the bone. Licking the blood off his face he felt warmth surge through him and the energy from the meal refreshed him.
“Oh, but it does concern you!” piped up the otter, tauntingly. He lay in the sunshine sprawled out on the heated rocks, and groomed the guard hairs of his fur, preparing for another dive.
“You keep out of this! I mean really, why should we listen to an otter anyway!?” roared Streke in bewilderment. “I don’t even know who you are!”
The otter hissed at Streke, “Why would I lie, you thick headed snake!” Then he sighed, “Fine, my name is Dr’rik, and I-“
“Wait, you’re a talking otter named Dr’rik? Why would an otter be named Dr’rik?” Wynd questioned, confused.
“Hey! Dr’rik means good friend in my tongue! Now do you want to know or not?” he chirped, agitated and he thrashed his tail around in the clear water. Wynd looked at his brother interested, but Streke only grew more bothered, he scowled silently and turned away from him. Wynd sighed and glanced at the strange otter snickering, “You’ll have to excuse Streke he’s an impertinent stiff.”
Streke looked up angrily at Wynd and rose to his feat; he trotted across the river bank and sat down on the smooth stretch of heated rock, scowling. “Are you happy now?”
The otter paused for a moment uncertain of what the dragons would do, “As I was saying, the war concerns you because you are part of the prophecies coming.”
Streke stared with a blank look on his face and then growled, looking at the otter haughtily, “…Can I eat him now?”
“No you cannot eat me!” hissed Dr’rik.
“Sorry, it’s just hard for me to take a talking otter seriously” Streke snickered.
Dr’rik growled, “Follow me then, I’ll take you to someone who can explain.” Dr’rik hobbled off the smooth heated stone and slid on his belly into the water; his silhouette swam ahead for several minutes until he popped his small head up and bobbed at the surface. “Hurry up!” he scowled and dove back under, swimming further down the river. Wynd shrugged confused and trotted down the bank after him. Streke walked up and hissed “Why put up with this? Let’s just go already!”
“We might as well humor with him, and if he’s just spinning tales you can always eat him later. Now stop griping and just go along with it for once.”
Streke frowned, uncertain, and tore at the rest of the horse carcass before leaving it behind. As they disappeared into the distance, a single crow gathered at the scene and pecked at the remains of the meal. It fluttered its’ shining black wings in the light, letting them catch with blue. The crow snatched a scrap in his sharp beak, his red eye swiveled in his little feathered head and the bird let out a mindless caw. A responding call soon rang out to meet him and a second crow flew over the canopy. It swooped down next to its brethren and pecked and jabbed at the first crow to obtain his share. But the feast would be short, for as the two snapped at the scraps, a black cloud of crows and ravens, thousands strong came down over their heads to join them.