@sadey @Meridok @haikwoshevo @ocularoracle
Hunger finally drove Roost back to the clearing during one Mudd’s rarely--and incredibly short--naps. He didn’t dare stay long, but the clawing ache in his belly only continued to grow. He’d thinned out considerably over the past few days and he knew he’d have to start hunting farther from the clearing. Which meant moving Mudd to a different area of the woods or leaving her longer--both were potentially dangerous.
Rot, but he hadn’t signed up for this. He’d sworn to the Plaguebringer and the Shadowbinder that he’d never wanted a hatchling to watch over. He wasn’t cut out for it. And yet, he couldn’t leave Mudd either. Nothing in him would let him walk away and let her fend for himself.
Luck though it seemed, was finally on his side. A crimson emperor herd grazed at the edge of the clearing where the shadows were still thick from the Tangled Wood--despite the almost too bright light of day in the field. The adults would be too fast without a chase, but a fawn... Perhaps he could catch one of those without having to stray too far from Mudd.
Crouching down, he waited for the right moment to strike and then burst from the trees. The herd erupted into flight, their wings buzzing, but Roost didn’t look to the sky. Instead he swept through the long grass looking for the slight flightless fawns often hidden in the grass. There he spotted two. Relief filled him as he settled down for the first real meal he’d had in a long time.
Praise the rotten shadows but it was about darned time. Half finished with his meal, he went to spook the second fawn from the grasses when he heard a soft flicker of wings. Not one of the emperors come back to defend their young. It was too strong. His head cocked for a moment thinking it was one of the larger webwings when he noted a small fae hatchling nestled in against the fawn. It’s crest flitted up and down so vehemently it looked to be shaking like a leaf.
Rot it all. Every blasted thing in this land. The last thing he needed was another hatchling to feed. Not that he could leave it either. As heartless as he wanted to be, big blue eyes stared up at him and sealed his fate.
No, he decided. The seekers had done that the moment they’d led him away from the Scarred Wasteland and straight to Mudd’s egg. He was doomed. Most likely to starve trying to keep others’ abandoned young fed.
Gruff, he reached out and scooped up the huddled pair in one paw. The fawn was considerably larger--and that was small enough as it was. “I hope you’re easier to feed,” he muttered, his voice gravelly rough and the little dragon’s crest flitted wildly in fear.
Another female too. He stared at her a long moment. “Flicker,” he decided with a prompt nod. If Mudd had been nothing but rolling around in the silty edge of the swamp, this one was nothing but shaky fear and fluttering wings. He looked at the fawn. “Lunch,” he told that one, then amended it. “Lucky.”
After all, he couldn’t very well go around eating what seemed to be the fae’s only friend. And while he was temtped to leave the emperor calf behind, the fae’s little limbs were wound around the deer’s neck and he didn’t dare try and untangle them. “Well then, let’s get you home and see what Mudd has to think of this.”
Mudd, like always, was waiting at the base of the tree, her icewarden puppet clenched in her claws. She was quivering with the need to run and the moment she saw him her eyes lit up. “Roost!” She started to move and then held herself. He gave a gruff nod and she barreled toward him.
Unceremoniously he dumped the fawn and fae on the ground. With a growl, Mudd pounced on them only to leap backwards with a surprised squeak. “Who?” she snarled.
“Flutt--Flicker,” he corrected himself and pointed at the fae. Flit. Flicker. Flutter. Plague take him, he didn’t know. He wasn’t sure he cared. She could name herself if the little thing could speak. “I don’t know. Name them.”
Plopping down in the muck, she stared at them. Obviously no more thrilled with the newcomers than he was. Her sparrowmouse flittered over to land on Roost’s head, nesting behind one of his horns.
“Go ‘way,” Mudd said and then darted back to the spot she always waited for him. She curled up in a fluffy ball and hissed at them, then at Roost. “Only Roost.”
He snorted at her and while he sympathized, he wouldn’t leave them to starve. “Perhaps soon,” he told her and nudged the terrified pair closer with one paw. “For now they have to stay.”
Mudd growled but said nothing.
06: More Mouths to Feed
Hunger finally drove Roost back to the clearing during one Mudd’s rarely--and incredibly short--naps. He didn’t dare stay long, but the clawing ache in his belly only continued to grow. He’d thinned out considerably over the past few days and he knew he’d have to start hunting farther from the clearing. Which meant moving Mudd to a different area of the woods or leaving her longer--both were potentially dangerous.
Rot, but he hadn’t signed up for this. He’d sworn to the Plaguebringer and the Shadowbinder that he’d never wanted a hatchling to watch over. He wasn’t cut out for it. And yet, he couldn’t leave Mudd either. Nothing in him would let him walk away and let her fend for himself.
Luck though it seemed, was finally on his side. A crimson emperor herd grazed at the edge of the clearing where the shadows were still thick from the Tangled Wood--despite the almost too bright light of day in the field. The adults would be too fast without a chase, but a fawn... Perhaps he could catch one of those without having to stray too far from Mudd.
Crouching down, he waited for the right moment to strike and then burst from the trees. The herd erupted into flight, their wings buzzing, but Roost didn’t look to the sky. Instead he swept through the long grass looking for the slight flightless fawns often hidden in the grass. There he spotted two. Relief filled him as he settled down for the first real meal he’d had in a long time.
Praise the rotten shadows but it was about darned time. Half finished with his meal, he went to spook the second fawn from the grasses when he heard a soft flicker of wings. Not one of the emperors come back to defend their young. It was too strong. His head cocked for a moment thinking it was one of the larger webwings when he noted a small fae hatchling nestled in against the fawn. It’s crest flitted up and down so vehemently it looked to be shaking like a leaf.
Rot it all. Every blasted thing in this land. The last thing he needed was another hatchling to feed. Not that he could leave it either. As heartless as he wanted to be, big blue eyes stared up at him and sealed his fate.
No, he decided. The seekers had done that the moment they’d led him away from the Scarred Wasteland and straight to Mudd’s egg. He was doomed. Most likely to starve trying to keep others’ abandoned young fed.
Gruff, he reached out and scooped up the huddled pair in one paw. The fawn was considerably larger--and that was small enough as it was. “I hope you’re easier to feed,” he muttered, his voice gravelly rough and the little dragon’s crest flitted wildly in fear.
Another female too. He stared at her a long moment. “Flicker,” he decided with a prompt nod. If Mudd had been nothing but rolling around in the silty edge of the swamp, this one was nothing but shaky fear and fluttering wings. He looked at the fawn. “Lunch,” he told that one, then amended it. “Lucky.”
After all, he couldn’t very well go around eating what seemed to be the fae’s only friend. And while he was temtped to leave the emperor calf behind, the fae’s little limbs were wound around the deer’s neck and he didn’t dare try and untangle them. “Well then, let’s get you home and see what Mudd has to think of this.”
Mudd, like always, was waiting at the base of the tree, her icewarden puppet clenched in her claws. She was quivering with the need to run and the moment she saw him her eyes lit up. “Roost!” She started to move and then held herself. He gave a gruff nod and she barreled toward him.
Unceremoniously he dumped the fawn and fae on the ground. With a growl, Mudd pounced on them only to leap backwards with a surprised squeak. “Who?” she snarled.
“Flutt--Flicker,” he corrected himself and pointed at the fae. Flit. Flicker. Flutter. Plague take him, he didn’t know. He wasn’t sure he cared. She could name herself if the little thing could speak. “I don’t know. Name them.”
Plopping down in the muck, she stared at them. Obviously no more thrilled with the newcomers than he was. Her sparrowmouse flittered over to land on Roost’s head, nesting behind one of his horns.
“Go ‘way,” Mudd said and then darted back to the spot she always waited for him. She curled up in a fluffy ball and hissed at them, then at Roost. “Only Roost.”
He snorted at her and while he sympathized, he wouldn’t leave them to starve. “Perhaps soon,” he told her and nudged the terrified pair closer with one paw. “For now they have to stay.”
Mudd growled but said nothing.
