Creative Corner

@pensandink - Oh no, save the fluffbutts! D: (Maybe it's all ok, and they're just going to a big secret tundra shindig?)

@SolarPhoenix - Added, thanks so much for the interest!

@pensandink - Thanks again for the letter, I just messaged you back!

@RizuChan - Added! Thank you! :)

@ArgenteaMoon - Added! :)

@LagMonster - Hmm. Very interesting theory. ;) I'm a big fan of questionable spiral characters too - Chime is such a fun POV to write from.

[center][b]Chapter 14: A Particular Set of Skills[/b] @LagMonster @Khoshekh @Twelvewishes @Stormsinger @starslang @Scyras @excessnight @pensandink @Solaristigres @Nihilo @WillowWhisper @Averis @SolarPhoenix @RizuChan @ArgenteaMoon [/center] It really was just one thing after another, wasn’t it? Shrike knew that anger wouldn’t help her, but she couldn’t hold out against the emotion. It wasn’t hot and fiery, but instead a cold fury, white and harsh and brittle. Anger at Chime – after everything they’d done for her – and anger at herself, for playing the fool. How could she not have seen this coming? The situation was bleak. There was no escaping that. She sat perched on an iceberg, one of the last bits of solid ice before the churning blackness of the open ocean. Tracking through the air was impossible, but she’d tried anyway – she had to do [i]something[/i] – and that had meant haphazardly travelling east. Earlier she’d spotted some specks on the horizon in that direction, and there was a slim chance that it might have been the attacker, the traitor, and her tundra. So she’d followed. Thus far, it was proving to be an exercise in futility. The specks had fallen quickly out of sight, and there was no way of knowing if they had been her targets in the first place. Even if her guess was right, this was the end of the line. Shrike had gone about as far east as a flightless dragon could go, unless she wanted to try swimming - even compared to her exaltation, this was the most powerless she'd ever felt. It was enough to make her eyes sting with tears. A sudden nudge at her side brought her back to herself. The deaths-head had been trailing her closely, and now it had taken advantage of her distraction to come right up to her. Shrike turned with a hiss, almost eager to lash out and release this helpless rage on [i]something.[/i] Instead of adopting an aggressive stance, however, the animal just moved a few paces backwards and peered at her meekly. “You were just waiting until my big friends left, huh?” Shrike challenged anyway, flaring her crests. “You going to attack me now? Come on. Try it.” The creature made a distressed bleating sound at her and moved forward once again, gingerly bumping the top of its head against her outstretched hand. As if it wanted to be…petted? [center][img]http://i1383.photobucket.com/albums/ah298/fr_cerastes/b118c7f2-72e8-4118-ae7e-5791314e268e_zpszlzioxzj.png[/img][/center] Ok. A friendly deaths-head. Shrike felt the tension leave her all at once as she tentatively stroked the thing’s forehead, trying not to overthink the implications of having a death omen for a familiar. “How in the Icewarden’s name,” she whispered to her unexpected companion, “am I going to fix this?” Not surprisingly, the animal didn’t have answer – which meant they were about equal on that front. She wished she knew what to do; Clementine could be in serious trouble – hurt, or worse. Chime had never seemed the violent type, but the same might not be said for whomever she was working for. And Shrike couldn’t even come to the tundra’s rescue. “She’s so young.” The deaths-head only stared at her with its beady insect eyes, but she kept talking. “I was supposed to take care of her.” It made a buzzing sound in response, delicately stepping into the air as its wings blurred in motion. Shrike watched it fly in graceful circles through the darkening sky; it was a pretty sight, a good distraction if nothing else. It didn’t move like the dragons she knew; rather than using powerful downstrokes it turned and rotated its wings as it went, sculpting the air to stay aloft rather than forcing itself up with strength alone. [i]You should move,[/i] she tried to tell her reluctant body. [i]Make camp or keep looking. Do something.[/i] But she couldn’t tear her eyes away from the little animal she’d befriended. It made sense that it didn’t fly like a dragon – its wings were differently shaped, not unlike a butterfly’s…and really, not unlike her own. Maybe the deaths-head [i]did[/i] have an answer for her after all. These familiars were turning out to be quite useful. The idea forming in her head was part terror and part desperate hope. Breathless at the possibility, she pushed off from the outcrop and spread her wings, trying to mirror the creature’s movements. It was easier to ignore her instincts than it had been a few weeks ago, and she hovered for a moment, focused on scooping the air with her wings quickly enough to stay upright. This felt so much more natural than the birdlike flapping she’d tried in the past; her muscles were nearly singing at the motion, and – she overbalanced before she could complete the thought, coming in for a hard landing on the ice. “Get up,” she told herself out loud, after she had regained her breath. “Get up and try again.” [i]For Clementine.[/i] And she did, and then again, and again, maneuvering from ice chunk to ice chunk. Her flight was clumsy and erratic, but it was [i]there[/i] – she could get off the ice and stay airborne for seconds at first, and then minutes, her wings able to capture the cold air well enough to keep her feet off the ground. She was ashamed now for giving up so easily before; if she’d figured this out sooner, she could have taken off hot on the attacker’s trail. But maybe it wasn’t too late. Night had seeped into the dusk by the time she paused to take a breather, eyeing the dark expanse of the ocean with trepidation. “This is completely insane,” she told the deaths-head, who was buzzing in circles around her. “I’ve never even left the Icefield before. I only know there’s more land out there [i]in theory.[/i] I don’t even know if they kept going east after they took off. This could be the completely wrong direction.” The feeling of hopelessness was being tamped down by desperate adrenaline, and she probably looked as crazy as she felt, sitting out here on the edge of the ice talking to an animal. The animal in question cocked its head at her, and she imagined it replying. [i]What have you got to lose? [/i] She briefly thought of her pack, of her father and her friends that were somewhere off in the unknown darkness. If she attempted this…there was a very real possibility that she’d never see them again. Never breed-change back, never unravel these unanswered questions. But then her memory flashed to a certain tundra’s golden fur and warm smile, and she knew her choice was clear. She took off before she could change her mind, reveling in the almost-forgotten rush of flight. Her wings were still unsteady, but she had to hope they would work well enough – there were flashes of white beneath her as she flew high above the ice, and then nothing. There was only blackness, broken here and there by the flicker of moonlight on the swelling waves. She was flying precariously over open water, unsure of her destination and accompanied by her own personal death omen. And yet it all felt somehow [i]right.[/i] Shrike had lost the trail once before, and she wasn’t about to let it happen again.