Sparrow

Microlore: When she was young, she was told to run as fast as she could, though not what she was running from. What she learned of this was that she quite liked running.

Unlike many snappers, she is training herself in speed. She wants to learn to race, even if more svelte breeds are naturally quicker. She won't let this stop her, and she aims to place high in marathons and relays in the future. During her day job, she helps with the transport of items from her clan's docks to their recipients, and serves as general light courier of urgent priority post and urgent messenger, because even though Raziya is the carthorse of hauling bulky items and postmaster of the clan, no one is faster over a long distance nor more reliable than Sparrow.

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Postmaster General, Close friend Raziya

Telegram Courier, Huckletree

Mother, Falx

Brother, Tobias

Brother

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Exodus from Oakrest, The Flight of A Sparrow

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“Wake up, little sister. Quickly.”
She woke to her brother Tobias shaking her gently awake. Her mother was pulling the sack containing her elder brother away, keeping one eye always on the horizon.
It was bleak, barren, exposed country here- Falx had left with the scale back carcass slung over her back, covering the sack with her confused but silent hatchlings within. Desperate and frightened, Falx had never walked a longer twenty yards than that which took her between the nest and the front gates, every breath an agony, every heartbeat felt like her last. She could hear the screams, even now. She’d known what was coming, when what had once been the Captain came up from the depths. Smelled her mate’s blood on him. Others, had not been so lucky.
“We should split up, confuse the trail. They won’t find us so easily that way- we’ll hide in the wastes.“
Tobias suggested, matter-of-factly, not so much as a waver in his determined expression. Falx just nodded, lost for words from his and desperately proud. He hugged his mother, nuzzled his sister goodbye, and his brother followed suit, then the two of them flew away- fast vanishing as shadows into the distance. The littlest of them, the snapper girl, heartbroken, slumped into a heap and started to cry.
“You’re going? Why are you going? Will you come back?” Her young voice quavered on the last word, and she clung to her mother with desperate claws.
Falx’s heart broke at the sight of that sweet face, those chocolate eyes, so like her father that it made Falx’s resolve weaken. She bent down, whispering fast- heart aching as she laid out the facts to this child far too young to understand.
“We have to fly, baby girl. I’m sorry, but we can’t carry you with us. Not this time.”
The snapper hatchling looked up, eyes still bleary with sleep. Her brothers, they Skydancers, stretched and flapped their wings eagerly, taking off even as she watched, looking back barely a moment in regret. Falx waved them off, but pressed her hands over the snapper’s mouth when she started to wail, high, keening panic-
“Sssshhh, don’t cry-“
“But- I can’t fly, not like you- I won’t be able to keep up-“
“If you can’t fly, then run.” Falx pointed at a spot on the horizon, chosen at random, but the intention was away. Away from here, from the death and destruction, somewhere- safe. “That way. Run, and don’t stop, no matter what you hear, and don’t look back.
“Y-yes, mama,” The little snapper’s querulous voice trembled, on the verge of tears from the ferocity of her mother’s grip on her back, squeezing her just a bit too tight for comfort. Then Falx let go, quick and decisively, and set the snapper hatchling down on the ground, pointed to the distant sky. She whispered in her ear-
“You have to be brave now, like your father. You can do that, can’t you?”
When the little one nodded once, definite, Falx took a deep breath, and said one last word-

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Run...
Her mother's voice echoed, reverberated, beat in her head like a drum, pounded with every desperate beating step as the tiny snapper raced over the ground. Those days playing chasie with her father and brothers paying off at last, she found her stride and gasped in air every few steps, but never faltered, never slowed. The earth ate up distance between each tiny hoofbeat, and she stumbled a few times- but got up again, legs shaking, and started again.

The shadows grew longer, greyer, as she ran on and on. The horizon looked brighter, too. She wondered if she was getting anywhere, or if it were just hopelessly lost. So she followed the evening star, it was close to her mother’s direction, and it rose always in the same place- if she ran in circles, her mother would be very disappointed in her. She had to run straight, and true, and as far and fast as she could.

She found her feet hurt less, in time, as if the ground were not so rocky- but the obstacles were getting taller, and wider. She had to really dodge to avoid them; things living in the shrubs bounded or flew away, squarking protest- as the sun rose, the ground beneath her feet was- green. Soft. Like- leaves, she supposed. She hadn’t seen grass before. She bit at a passing leaf experimentally, not daring stop- but sank her teeth into fresh green and sighed in delight- it was like paradise! Surely this must be close to where her mother hand wanted her to go?

A bird burst from cover near her, frightening her- she squeaked in surprise, then again as a large shadow crept up behind her, the sound she'd thought was the drumming of her own heartbeat turning out to be something keeping pace, almost beside her now- something large, running hard to keep up. She increased her speed, trying to overtake it, risking a glance over her shoulder- A flash of ginger and gold, with a bright white vest and a scarf streaming out behind it. The big snapper smiled at her, his huge grin spreading like a crack across a boulder, but it was nervously inquiring rather than a snarl of aggression. She didn’t look long, though, because she had to watch ahead of her. More of those living bush things ahead.
“What’s your name, little one?”

She didn’t reply, but inhaled a breath and increased her pace a fraction more. She was proud as the big male had to strain to keep up-
“Why are you running?!’ He asked again, breathlessly-
“I have to run!” She just replied, not bothering to explain. She needed her breath.
“What from?”
She didn’t reply for a long time. Partly because she didn’t have an answer, partly because she hoped he’d just go away. When he didn’t, finally, she answered with-
“I don’t know.”
“Do you know the way?” He asked again, more concerned than intrigued. This little dust-coloured pocket rocket was headed for a whole lot of trouble if someone didn’t intervene.
“Mama just said to run.”
“I’m Raziya,” He tried helpfully, “Would I know your mother? Could I help find her for you?”
He nearly fell over his own feet with trying to brake, because she’d swerved suddenly away, and he lost sight of her a few seconds- with some searching, muscles straining to catch up to the sounds of disturbed wildlife, he finally glimpsed the shape of the tiny hatchling some way ahead, still running as though her life depended on it. He would have been impressed by her turn of speed, if he weren’t so concerned. Why did it have to be me, he wondered futilely, why couldn’t it have been Cookie, or some other scout, someone good with children?

Raziya was drawing almost level, but suddenly he found his feet were becoming stuck to the ground, it was harder and harder to lift them- the mists swirled ahead, and the forest was growing darker and denser by the second-
“Wait!” He called out in a terrified bugle; “Don’t run that way!”
He forced himself to stop dead in his tracks, staring after the disappearing speck in the distance, but had to draw enough breath to sound a call of alarm, as loud as he could. He called again- then, heedless of the danger he was running headfirst into, sped in after her.

The little one barely heard him, exhaustion ringing in her ears and the mist shining her eyes. She couldn’t see more than a foot ahead of her, suddenly, it was like she was running in- quicksand? But this was wet. So, so wet, and cold, and itchy, like an infection spreading up her feet. She was relieved by the cool of it for only a moment, but the itching was intolerable, it crept up under her scales and between her claws, and she felt suddenly tireder than she’d ever been. She desperately wanted to run on, but also to sleep- her eyes grew heavier, and she fancied she could hear a far-off song, in the distance- or was it the muffled clink of wind chimes?
Her feet suddenly tripped- she fell down an unexpected hill, and painfully tumbled her down sharp exposed mangrove trees, awash with thorny vines. Her fall was loud, full of complaints and half-muffled shrieks, and ended entangled in the swampy branches, stuck like a bug in a web. A purple light flittered around, winking on and off. Just out of eyeshot; she caught a glimpse of what looked like a huge eye, or else a wing, but she squeaked in terror and fought for freedom.
She struggled harder, eyes widening as the vines seemed to be reaching out slick fingers to grasp her- but instead of pulling her down, strangely, as she fought and bit at them, they lifted her out of the murky water that beckoned beneath, the marsh silent but for the slow bursting of foul-smelling sticky bubbles like belching crocodiles with fetid breath.
“Just a foolish hatchling,” A cultured, hissing voice grumbled with annoyance somewhere just above her- she tried to twist around to find it, but couldn’t see a thing no matter which way she looked. “I was hoping for something more- substantial, with the noise you made.”
“Don’t eat me!” She protested, scowling more bravely than she felt; “I’m an Earth dragon, I’m probably inedible.”
“I don’t eat- dragons…” The voice managed to suggest that this was a belated, and disappointing realisation.
It sighed. “Didn’t you read the signs? What drove you here, or do you in fact seek your doom?!” A little spark of malevolence shone in a pair of purple-black eyes, glowing disembodied in front of her, but the little one swallowed hard and set her chin, determined to be brave.
“I didn’t see any signs- and anyway, I can’t read!” She protested.
An apparition was slowly materialising through the thick mist that cloyed the air, purple and black with a lamp swinging hypnotically from its tail. It was a great deal smaller than the voice had made it sound. It looked- extremely grumpy. And embarrassed.
“…ah. I see I will have to install more prominent signage with pictorial cues. For other simpleton waifs and strays that wander into my lair. Now,” He gestured half-heartedly, and the vines loosened around her- “Begone, child of stone!”
There was that crashing sound again, growing louder- and as it did, the Fae looked more and more chagrined. He rolled his eyes upward, whispering a curse to the Shadowbinder about clumsy giant oafs, and flitted off into the distance hurriedly, vanishing like the smoke.
The big golden-ginger snapper who’d been following her, caught up at last- tearing two mangrove trees aside to pluck her bodily from the web.
“Raziya!” She exclaimed, surprised he’d followed her in here- she didn’t have the heart to tell him she’d already rescued herself, and didn’t need his help.
“I found you!” He beamed with pride and relief, a welcome familiar smile that seemed as bright as the sun in that dark place. “Thank the Light, you’re safe! Swamps aren’t safe places to run headlong into, little one!”
“I know that now,” She complained, pulling a wet clump of solid mud off her tail with both paws- it was drying fast, and hard, like cement.

She consented to being carried a short way, but when his footfalls sounded solid on the ground again, she wriggled in his grip and fell to the welcome grass, starting to trot again, determination in every line.
He snuffed in amazement, and lengthened his stride.
“You’re indomitable- and quite a runner,” He was nearly out of breath, but smiled, impressed- “You’re very young to be out by yourself, though. Where’s your family?”
She shrugged, swallowing a lump in her throat.
“They just said to run… I can’t fly, not like them.”
“I can relate to that,” Raziya smiled sadly; “It’s hard, isn’t it, being the grounded one.”
She sat down, hard, on the ground, the determination which had filled her sails this long, now fast deteriorating. It was the memory of her brothers, disappearing silhouettes in the distance, free and together. Why did she have to be alone?
“Are they coming for you?”
She blinked back tears. “You don’t understand…”
“Oh.” The big male looked crestfallen, and took off his hat in sorrow for a moment of respect.
Eventually he replaced it, and asked; “Well, do you know where you’re going?”
She nodded in the general direction she’d been running.
“That way.”
“Oakheart?!” Raziya exclaimed with a rumble of surprise.
“Maybe,” She sounded defensive, uncertain. “What’s that?” By the pinging of her leaden muscles, and the throbbing in her little feet, she guessed that she probably wouldn’t be able to walk again, even if she tried. She hoped this place was close.’
He laughed gaily, bounding over a boulder in a single cheery leap which fair startled the little snapper, though she bravely tried not to show it.
The big snapper’s friendly face smiled so wide it looked like his face would crack. “It’s Home. I’ll take you there!”
“Alright,” She conceded after a long while considering her very limited options. “But if I don’t like it, I’m going to run again.”
Raziya chuckled, liking this young one more and more by the second. She had real fire in her heart. He could respect that. That and the way she could run like the wind. He nodded, and stuck out a hand- “Fair enough! I’ll give you a lift if you like- here, hop up on my back- but I’m fairly new there too, so if I get saddled with a nickname like ‘stork’, I’m blaming you.” He teased, jovially.
“Nickname?”
“It’s a short name, a pet name, like, for your friends or family. Bard usually picks them for people. He’s good at seeing the heart of people.”
“Why stork?”
“I’m a postman, and I’d be delivering a baby-“
“But you’re short and fat and can’t fly.”
He gave her a look which was kinder than she deserved, but held a lot of hurt in it. She looked down, shame-faced. “I’m sorry.” She mumbled. “It’s what some of the other hatchlings say- said. Snappers are good for nothing but slaves.”
“Then they were very, very misinformed. Or very cruel. There is no room for cruelty or bigotry in Oakheart, young- what is your name?”
She hung her head, sadly. Her eyes pricked with tears- “I- I didn’t have one. Mama didn’t think it right, naming me until Father came back from the mines. But then he didn’t-“ She choked on a sob, and cleared her throat determinedly; “So I haven’t decided yet.”
They startled a small brown bird out of hiding as they proceeded into the lightening dawn sky, and it squeaked indignantly at them before flitting away, fast as anything.
“What was that? I saw lots of them when I was running, all the way from home to here! But they’re so quick-“

“A sparrow?” Raziya supplied.
“Yes. That. I’ll call myself Sparrow.”
“You’re small and quick enough for one. Lucky you didn’t call yourself Rabbit.”

“Why?”
“Because then you’d get nicknamed ‘Dust Bunny’. I’d bet my hat on it.”

As it turned out, that was exactly what she did get called. By Bard, the next morning, once someone woke him up enough to tell him they had a newcomer. They just said she was quick and brown and came from an Earth clan, and he smiled in his half-asleep stupor, “Tell the dust bunny to make herself at home, we’ve room aplenty for another one. I’ll be right there, only… that dream was… just…” His eyes slid shut and he snored softly, hat askew on his head and hair fluffed sideways adorably.
Sparrow decided she didn’t mind a clan where the leader was a huge teddy bear who snored, and it certainly made a change from her old clan. Maybe she was going to be safe here. Unfortunately, the nickname stuck- at least behind her back, because courtesy of a partial misfired tundra breed change scroll that had been improperly packaged, she had strange brown fur tufts and wings covered in feathers. Despite her vehement protestations, 'Sparrowhawk' just wasn't the first thing that sprang to dragons' minds when they see her waddling across the meadow purposefully towards them, fluffy bunny ears bobbing. Soon, she was famous for her stamina and agility, as well as her reliability as a messenger dragon, and she grew proud of her heritage that the name provided- she was from the dust of Earth, indeed, and dust was what she kicked up when she sped away at breakneck speed to deliver the Urgent Mail. She settled in back at Oakheart clan every evening, counted the post, filed them away carefully for the next morning- and sometimes sighed, as there was no letter addressed to her. Despite the circumstances of their parting, she is still hoping day after day, that her siblings and her mother were alright. That they’d survived, thrived, perhaps- maybe found even nicer and grander homes than she had. Maybe she’d hear from them, someday. But for now, she rested her tired paws, trained herself patiently in her newfound love of running, and settled down to wait.