New Beginnings
- II -
SUMMER
(TW for hunting, implied animal death)
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Swiftrunner was grateful for the seclusion the wilderness usually gave, at least from his birth clan. Clans were supposed to feel like a family according to them, but Swiftrunner had always felt like an outsider even when his parents were still around. He had seen the judging stares from the others.
The strict hierarchy Swiftrunner’s parents expected from their adopted clan was what got them accepted in the beginning. Everyone and everything needed a place - a purpose. What set them apart was not only their appearance and size, but their diet and culture. The first two were easy enough to get used to. Having larger clanmates around was helpful when the clan was in danger, especially those used to surviving in the wilds. Having clanmates that relied solely on meat to survive and the methods required to obtain it were another. It’s not that Tundras never ate meat, but that it was left for the long dark of winter when plants were more scarce. Meat let the clan survive when the stored plants ran out. But collecting it was a ritual in and of itself - it wasn’t something done every day much less all year. There had to be signs from the Icewarden and even then only one animal was taken if they couldn’t find something to scavenge.
His parents hadn’t respected that and paid the price. Whether it had been with their lives, he didn’t know, but the Wildclaw had spent the rest of his childhood sneaking off to find things to eat in secret. When he was older he’d left the clan.
Swiftrunner glanced over at the younger Mirror walking beside him. Lightfoot had found him during a hunt gone wrong and had saved his life. She’d attacked the hoarfrost mauler from behind and gave him the opening he needed to get back on his feet for the final blow. The pair had traveled together ever since, eking out a living in the neutral territories between clans until they met Luckystone. The pint-sized Fae had big ambitions to create a haven for anyone who didn’t fit in with the traditional Ice culture. Swiftrunner had his doubts it could happen, but was willing to support Luckystone in his endeavors because the young Fae had wholeheartedly accepted who he was. It was the start of their small clan, and now here they were several years down the road with a place to call their own.
“Lost in thought again?” Lightfoot murmured over her shoulder, still focused on the ground ahead of them.
“...”
“Well it’s time to snap out of it,” the Mirror sniffed the air, “We’re close.”
Swiftrunner nodded and followed suit, the sharp scent of pines and musk filling his nose. They were closer than he’d expected. The Wildclaw paused mid-stride before lowering his foot to the ground, Swiftrunner’s long toe claw gently tapping the soil as he thought.
“We’ll split here - you go south and bring them my way. Quietly,” he whispered.
Lightfoot nodded and crept off, eventually disappearing out of his sight behind a small hill. He turned back to look ahead of him and started walking once more, being careful where he placed his feet. Old pine needles blanketed the ground in this part of the forest where the trees grew closer together - a well placed step would make all the difference in setting up a successful ambush. Blindly crashing through the undergrowth would not. Swiftrunner silently berated himself for his earlier behavior - getting lost in his thoughts out here was a foolish thing to do.
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As one of the smaller mid-size dragon breeds, Lightfoot had an easier time of masking the sounds of her approach. Either way, she was glad that whatever had occupied her friend’s attention didn’t last. Both of them wanted to be successful today of all days as their first official hunt as a new clan.
Lightfoot slowly worked her way toward a clumped area of trees, careful to not disturb any of the branches as she got into position. In the clearing ahead of her was a small herd of cow elk - 27 if she counted them correctly. Most of them appeared to match Swiftrunner in height, about 2 meters at the shoulder.
‘At least it’ll be a decent meal this time…’
She willed her stomach not to grumble at the thought of dinner and scanned the far side of the clearing, looking for any sign that Swiftrunner had made it into place. The Wildclaw was larger than her and usually moved slower when they set up an ambush just to be safe, especially in forests like this one. The surrounding trees were spaced farther apart in places and denser in others which only offered limited cover. Her tail twitched with impatience. If he didn’t get into place soon Lightfoot fully intended to rush the herd by herself, first hunt be damned.
Several of the elk started to wander closer until one of them was just a few bounds away. She caught a glimpse of movement from the corner of her eyes - Swiftrunner hadn’t even made it to his own proposed location.
‘That overly cautious–’
Her thoughts were interrupted when the wind suddenly picked up speed and changed directions to blow their scents directly toward the herd. Lightfoot couldn’t take it anymore and burst from her cover with a snarl.
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Swiftrunner could see glimpses of the herd beyond the cover of the trees. He hadn’t made as much progress getting around them as he’d hoped to by now, but there had been more fallen branches that made the going slower.
He froze when the wind shifted, his attention snapping toward the elk when Lightfoot leapt into the clearing mere seconds later.
Those seconds felt like hours as he watched the scene unfold… Lightfoot’s claws gripping the ground with each leap forward, her wings beating in time with her feet to increase the speed… and the unblinking, unmoving herd of elk entirely unphased by her charge.
‘Something’s not right… Why are they not running?’ Swiftrunner watched with increasing unease as everything sped back to normal.
“...Stop!!”
His call came too late. Lightfoot already had the throat of an elk clenched between her jaws and its movements had ceased.
The rest of the herd continued grazing as if nothing had happened.
