Creative Corner

@Solaristigres Thanks again for my little Clementine son, I love him! :D All of her babies are just lovely!

@Cerastes

Fantastic writing and an intriguing plot, I'd love to be added to the ping list :)

@Tarajara Thanks, that's so kind of you to say! :O Adding now!

@tsaarn Ahhh, thanks for taking the time to read it, and I'm so glad you're enjoying it! Adding you now!

(Psst - everyone should go check out tsaarn's new Nuzlocke, and the others I've linked to in my first post!)

[center][b]Chapter 29: Hunting Lessons, Part 1[/b] [size=2]@LagMonster @Khoshekh @Tempestuous @starslang @Scyras @excessnight@pensandink @Solaristigres @Nihilo @WillowWhisper @Averis @SolarPhoenix@RizuChan @ArgenteaMoon @Elzerei @eeeeel @tigressRising @hotdoge@Dragonfang @Whimzica @Soleil @Zexeos @windsway @Neige @KIMJA @rax@PandragonsBox @Silurian @Wolcan @AnnaStar353 @Rhyvendra @TwoJay @Aravis@CoatlPrince @Galaxy99 @Tarajara @tsaarn[/size] [/center] Raust sighed noisily. “I’m not sure I see where your confusion is coming from—“ “You don’t?” Shrike wasn’t trying to snap, but it was late – the fire had burned down to embers, and the three of them had been so deep in conversation that none of them had thought to rekindle it. “Look. I’m not saying I believe any of this, not for a minute. I’m not whatever ridiculous...[i]descendant[/i] you seem to think I am. But all that aside, why couldn’t the two of you just have been straight with me? Right from the beginning?” The spiral and skydancer glanced at each other, suddenly uneasy. “Shrike,” Chime began, “we were just trying to—“ “I’m trying to trust you. I really am. But you’re not making it easy.” Shrike’s head was spinning – the night had a pervasive unreality to it, as if she were watching it from very far away. “I’m going to sleep,” she told them, in a tone that welcomed no argument. “We can talk about this in the morning.” That night she dreamt, vividly. [center][img] http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-JUtDBTct_0Q/UQlPKIEt-KI/AAAAAAAALEQ/_G9dBj28G44/s1600/snowflake_divider.gif[/img][/center] [i]“Shrike. Shrike! Cut that out. I’m trying to teach you something here.” Shrike was busy ignoring her father, staring intently at the tip of his twitching tail. If he held it still for just a second, she could – “Hey!” Just as she was about to pounce, she felt a heavy paw on her back, pinning her down. Growling playfully, she rolled over and bit at the big mirror’s toes. “Shrike!” her father repeated – he was trying to sound authoritative, but she could tell he was amused. “Can we focus here?” Rolling her eyes, Shrike wiggled out from under the foot and plopped down on the snow. “I guess,” she replied, scowling up at him. His lessons were usually interesting, but that didn’t mean she was about to let him know it. Although, it kind of seemed like he already knew. “All right,” he chuckled, turning to peer at the copse of spruces in front of them. “See that big tall tree there, right on the edge? I want you to look at it and tell me what you see.” Shrike frowned up at it, craning her head to see the top. It was so tall! Could dragons get that tall? “Hey, you. Stop fidgeting and focus.” “Fine,” she told him petulantly. “I see...a tree. Lots of needles. And snow.” “C’mon. Focus. Use all your senses.” [i]“Fine.”[/i] She peered at it a little more closely, taking it in. The colors were muted in the pre-dawn grayness, and the whole forest seemed hushed, quiet except for the slow-tempo life of the trees themselves. But wait – was that a flash of heat in the upper branches? Shrike stared at it a little while longer – it was warm compared to the baseline of the trees. Something with a beating heart. “Is that...a bird?” “Well done!” said her father, flashing her a smile. “A hawk, to be exact. Now, watch—“ They sat still for a while, the two of them framed dark against the sunrise beginning to color the sky. Shrike fidgeted, and was on the brink of asking what exactly they were waiting for when there was a flurry of movement from above. The hawk revealed itself in a rush, brown-streaked wings unfurling from its hiding place. Shrike watched, open-mouthed, as the bird plummeted downwards. It looked like it was going to slam into the snow – had it been injured? – but at the very last second, its wings snapped open. Talons plunged into the powder, and after a brief scuffle the bird emerged triumphant with a mouse in its claws. “Wow!” Shrike heard herself murmuring. “That was so cool!” At her side, her father chuckled. “Impressive, yeah? Now, think back to the wolves we saw last week. How is this kind of hunting different?” The little mirror cocked her head to one side, thinking. “The wolves...their prey knows it’s being hunted, right? They run it down and cut it off, like we do...the hawk just jumps on it. The mouse didn’t see it coming.” “Right! Hawks use the element of surprise. Instead of chasing, they sit very still and wait for something to come within striking distance. We’re going to practice this – I know it’s not the usual way of hunting, but it can pretty useful in certain situations.” He smiled at her again – Shrike loved when he did that. It made her feel safe from everything in the world. “Come on,” he rumbled, getting to his feet. “We should be getting back.” They started winding their way back to camp – yesterday’s warmth had formed a crust on the snowpack, one Shrike’s father sank through with every step. Shrike scampered alongside, her lighter weight keeping her from breaking through the ice. “Dad,” she began, forming her question, “do hawks hunt in packs, like we do?” “They don’t. That would be something to see, though, wouldn’t it?” “So they’re always by themselves?” Shrike frowned, trying to imagine it. She’d never been alone in her life – that sounded so boring. What did hawks do when they wanted to play? “Don’t they get...lonely?” “You know, I’m not sure. Us mirrors would be pretty lost without a pack, right? Hawks are different, though. They get together to raise chicks, but that’s about it. Maybe they’d like to be together more, but animals like them, they’re better alone.” That seemed sad, and she wanted to say so, but something was tugging her away... [/i]

@WillowWhisper @ArgenteaMoon Thank you, and happy holidays to you too! Can you believe I started writing this almost a year ago??

[center][b]Chapter 30: Hunting Lessons, Part 2[/b] [size=2]@LagMonster @Khoshekh @Tempestuous @starslang @Scyras @excessnight@pensandink @Solaristigres @Nihilo @WillowWhisper @Averis @SolarPhoenix@RizuChan @ArgenteaMoon @Elzerei @eeeeel @tigressRising @hotdoge@Dragonfang @Whimzica @Soleil @Zexeos @windsway @Neige @KIMJA @rax@PandragonsBox @Silurian @Wolcan @AnnaStar353 @Rhyvendra @TwoJay @Aravis@CoatlPrince @Galaxy99 @Tarajara @tsaarn[/size] [/center] It seemed like it should have been warmer underground, but even sheltered from the wind, the caves were steeped in a bone-chilling cold. It seemed to come from the very rock, as if the world itself had a cold heart and they were now within its reach. Raust shivered under his cloak, and even Shrike was feeling the drop in temperature, rubbing her hands together to try and restore some functionality to them. “Just when I thought it couldn’t [i]possibly[/i] get any worse,” Chime grumped, her voice muffled by the scarf pulled up around her nose, “we have to go mucking around in some dingy caves. Oh, by the Windsinger, I miss civilization.” Shrike tried not to crack a smile – bundled up in the scarf, the spiral looked more like a slightly devious grandma than a criminal genius. “Well, this is what the two of you wanted,” she pointed out, leading the way around a stalagmite. “I wanted to go hunting out on the tundra, but you guys were too [i]scared[/i]—“ “Personally, I prefer not getting ripped to pieces by psychotic mirrors,” Raust sniffed, and then winced when he realized what he’d said. “That was a bit glib, perhaps. My apologies.” “Don’t worry about it,” Shrike said, waving him off. The skydancer had been even more irritable than normal since losing the egg, but she couldn’t hold it against him. The Long Night took a toll on most dragons, but natureborn always seemed the hardest hit. And Shrike wouldn’t mind running into the psychotic mirrors herself, after what they’d done to Clementine, but she wasn’t about to drag the other two into some far-flung scheme for revenge. “Anyway, we should keep quiet for a bit. Hunting’s no good if we keep scaring away all the prey.” They continued on, following the winding path. The cave had been carved out by melting glaciers long ago, but it was dry now, save for the occasional rhythmic drip of water from the ceiling. Shrike found herself dearly missing her heat vision – it would have been nice to have an idea of what awaited them around each twist and turn. She had no idea of how Raust would handle himself, which is why she had placed him in the middle of their formation, with Chime bringing up the rear. They certainly didn’t need another strangler repeat, but they were in desperate need of a caster in their party. He would have to learn. “Shrike!” Chime called out from behind, urgent. “Above you!” Shrike looked up and immediately backpedalled – three huge mushrooms were rooted to the rocky ceiling above her head. And they looked predatory. “Raust, stay back!” she warned, taking to the air. There wasn’t enough room for Chime to maneuver aerially, but she snaked her way up the wall to claw at one of the fungi, dodging a breath attack with characteristic grace. Remembering their earliest hunting trip, Shrike felt an unexpected surge of pride. “I’ve got this one!” she called out, slashing at another, which glared at her balefully. They managed to dispatch two of the mushrooms without much trouble – when there was just one left, Shrike glanced down at the skydancer, who was watching them nervously. “Your turn, Raust!” she called out. “See if you can cast a spell at it. It’s okay if you don’t do much damage – we’ll finish it off.” Raust seemed to think about for a moment before raising his hand at the beast. A bolt of green energy left it, coating the fungus in some kind of bubbling goo. It dissolved the thing in seconds, leaving nothing but a scorch mark on the ceiling and an acrid smell in the air. “Well,” Chime commented drily, “that was effective.” Shrike stared down at him openmouthed. “How...” The skydancer shrugged, sheepish. “It’s all about focusing energy. Not that dissimilar to prayer, really.” “Well, [i]monsieur,[/i] you are a very interesting sort of priest,” Chime commented, gathering up pieces of mushroom. “Do you murder with prayer often?” “Let’s move on,” Raust replied crisply. Shrike turned and led on, shaking her head. Perhaps she wouldn’t have to worry about him after all. She was grateful for the forced silence – the leading topic of conversation concerned Shrike, a mystical light egg, and some kind of questionable family tree that somehow bound the two of them together. Shrike was tired of it and didn’t know what – or who – to believe anymore. On one hand, she supposed, it explained why dragons kept trying to kill her – but on the other the whole thing seemed ridiculous. Surely, if it were true, she would have heard about it before now? As Raust had pointed out, though, it didn’t really matter what she believed. The fact that other dragons out there believed it gave her enough to worry about. It was a mess, and one that seemed out of her control. Lost in thought as she was, Shrike almost didn’t see the warcats. There were three, and they’d certainly seen the dragons coming. By the time the call to “look out!” had left her mouth, the middle one was already in motion, pouncing at the skydancer with claws extended. She saw the beast catch him across the face, and he pulled back with a yelp. Chime was at his side in an instant, paying the cat back in kind. Heart in her mouth, Shrike turned toward the other two aggressors. The first proved a tough opponent – Shrike’s first few blows glanced off its armor, and she had to dodge several lightning-fast swipes. Eventually, though, she was able to subdue it. The second cat hesitated at the fall of its comrade, twin tails tucked between its legs. Sensing that it wasn’t an immediate threat, Shrike wheeled around. “Raust! You all right?” Chime had taken out the other warcat and was tending to the skydancer, concern written all over her face. She’d ripped a strip off the bottom of his cowl, and was pressing it to the wound on the side of his face, which was bleeding freely. “Yes,” he replied through gritted teeth. “It didn’t get my eye. Just across it.” “[i]Oui,[/i] you are very lucky,” Chime murmured. “It’s fairly deep, but it’s clean. I suspect it will scar, but it should heal all right.” “Are you sure?” Shrike asked. “It seems like a lot of blood.” “Oh, head wounds always bleed a lot,” Chime pointed out, airily. “He’ll be fine. Just adds a bit of manly character, eh?” The priest grumbled something under his breath, lifting a claw up to poke at the wound. Chime swatted his hand away, causing him to grumble again. “I think I’m more cut out for philosophical combat.” There was a mewl from behind, reminding Shrike of the interloper. “Get it!” Raust cried wildly, but Shrike held up a hand. “No, wait.” Now that she was getting a good look at it, it was clear that the warcat was little more than a kitten, small enough that its armor was ill-fitting. It peeked at her from under the heavy helmet, eyes wide with fear – and perhaps a little curiosity. “It’s young – they’re really impressionable at this age. I expect you could probably make a familiar out of it, if you wanted.” “Why would I want to do that?” Raust snapped. “Its friend just scratched up my face.” “They can be pretty useful,” Shrike told him, “my bear [i]would[/i] be, if it didn’t keep wandering off.” This was said with a pointed look at Chime, who shrugged. “Look, Raust, just stretch your hand out to it and wait a second.” The skydancer looked skeptical, but followed her instructions all the same. The little warcat (warkitten?) regarded them for a minute, then crept forward warily, stretching its neck out to sniff at Raust’s claws. After a minute, it tentatively licked them and started to make a low rumbling noise, deep in its chest. Raust flinched away. “Is it growling at me?” “I think it’s purring,” Chime replied. “Even you can make friends, Raust. I never would have thought.” “We should be heading back,” Shrike said, trying not to smile at the way the kitten was rubbing its face against Raust’s hand. “We need to clean out that cut before it closes up. And can we please try to not get hurt on the way?” They had made it about halfway back, without incident, when a scrabbling sound issued from one of the side tunnels. Shrike motioned for the others to wait, creeping forward to peer down the shadowy shaft. It could be more warcats, and Shrike had no idea how many of them there were. “Get ready to fight,” she whispered to the others, pressing herself flat against the wall next to the tunnel. If they didn’t spot her, she might be able to attack from behind as they emerged. The sound grew louder – whatever it was, it sounded like there was only one, but it was substantially bigger than a warcat. [i]Oh, Icewarden, don’t let it be a yeti...[/i] Heart beating like a bird’s, Shrike listened as the footsteps reached the entrance and paused. It was now or never. “Yah!” she cried out as she whipped around the wall, claws extended – and very nearly sliced the nose off her own bear. It huffed at her moodily. “Oh!” she said, once she’d recovered from her surprise. “Sorry!” “Who are you?” came a sullen voice, and for a confused instant she thought her bear was talking to her. But then a second creature crept out of the shadows, scales glittering darkly in the torchlight. Her bear had brought them a dragon. [center][img]http://i67.tinypic.com/907m8w.png[/img] (I thought this coli drop deserved a story! Happy holidays, everyone!)[/center]