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Fortunately/Unfortunately 7
Feb. 26th, 2013 12:01 am***
Squawk-Click had met Mate before yesterday's yesterday's yesterday. Their courtship had been so long ago that Squawk-Click couldn't say how old it was, only that it was older than most of the things he remembered. Sometime after he had fought for his share of his mother's attention, after he had become strong enough to leave her, but before he had provided for the young. All of these memories rested sometime before yesterday's yesterday's yesterday, but he somehow knew that they had not always been.
Squawk-Click had chosen his place at the edge of the trees, near the Water Not To Drink. It was a good place, because it was full of growing food and and easy to keep his, since the Water Not To Drink guarded one of its borders. He could sit in the middle of it and do all of his favorite things, like bellow his favorite call, eat his favorite leaves, and stretch his neck around and try to preen the feathers behind his head. He slept there, feeling safe, because he bellowed his bellow for a long time every day, and no one else would enter because they would know that it was his. If anyone ever did enter, he would show them his big wings and bellow louder, and they'd have to go away. And if *that* didn't work, he could always kick them.
But one day, someone had entered Squawk-Click's place. He'd been munching on a clump of growing food when something made a noise nearby, and he'd known then and there that he'd have to go confront whoever it was right away, or his place wouldn't be his place anymore. With his wings spread and his head raised, he ran toward the intruder, calling out his own name.
The intruder had been Mate! But Mate was not Mate then; she was still new. When he saw her standing there, at the edge of his place, Squawk-Click became very excited. But he was not excited the way he normally was when strangers entered his place. He felt good about this female being in his place. He wanted to show her more of it, and to make her stay.
So Squawk-Click got her attention with his favorite bellow. He spread out his wings as much as he could and showed her how big he was, how brown his feathers were, and how loud his call was. He strutted around the edge of his entire place to show much was his, beating his wings the whole way to make sure she was watching. And when he was done, he bellowed even louder, because she had walked even further into his place.
Squawk-Click collected some of his favorite foods in his place for her, like the long green ones under his scratching tree and the little round ones that hung from the bush by his sitting spot. He offered these to her, and she took them, which made him feel even better, because he liked her very much, especially when he looked at her long tail feathers and bright beak.
After she had eaten all that Squawk-Click had brought her, she made a call of her own, more beautiful than anything Squawk-Click had ever heard before. Squawk-Click repeated his own call, and she bowed her head and made the motion that Squawk-Click knew meant she was his now, and she became Mate.
Mate was a very good mate, too. When he built her a nest, she filled it with many eggs. Squawk-Click valued these more than anything else in his place, the entire forest even. When the young emerged from these same eggs, he and Mate spent almost all of their time on them, finding them food and keeping them safe. They listened intently to their tiny squeaks; they were, to their parents' ears, the loudest sounds in the forest, even during the clatter of the heaviest rain.
But today, while Squawk-Click and Mate had been away from the nest, foraging, the young made a sound that they had never heard before. It made Squawk-Click feel very uncomfortable, painful in a part of himself he couldn't usually feel, a part that wanted to make sure they never made that sound again. He and Mate abandoned the hunt for food and started running back to the nest, screaming as loud as they could.
A strange creature was standing in the nest. It had no feathers, only a patchwork of different colored hides, dirty and dripping wet. It stood on two stubby, backward-bent legs, ending in a single bulbous toe each. They thickened as they extended upward, then merged into a wide column, eventually joined yet again by another appendage on each side. The side-appendages hung down, angled, tapered, and ended in sets of grasping claws. Atop it all, the creature's abbreviated neck supported a bulbous pink head, covered on top and back with something that looked like slender, black grass. The head lacked a beak; instead, there was an open horizontal slit on its front, just below a pair of raised, downward-facing holes. Just above and on either side of this, two tiny eyes with too much white stared up at Squawk-Click.
Already, Squawk-Click hated this creature for entering his place and his nest. He hated this creature for scattering the young which still chattered their unsettling yelps. But Squawk-Click hated this creature most of all when he saw one of the young hanging in its bunched claws, and when he saw that the young was not moving, only swinging by its neck as the intruder shook.
Squawk-Click and Mate bounded toward the intruder, ready to break it with a snap of any of their powerful legs. The creature ran, but its tiny legs could not step as high or as far as Squawk-Click's. Only a little ahead of Squawk-Click and Mate, it fled to the edge of the forest and away from Squawk-Click's place. Normally, that would be enough for Squawk-Click, but this creature, still holding one of the young, was too abhorrent to let slink away. Mate and Squawk-Click pursued it across the sand and all the way to the edge of the Water Not To Drink, where it hurled the young to the sand where Squawk-Click stood. Mate pushed it with her beak, but the young did not move from where it landed, and somehow Squawk-Click knew it never would.
Squawk-Click and Mate bellowed at the creature as it moved off and vanished, floating on the surface of the Water Not To Drink. Squawk-Click had never known any creature to emerge from the Water Not To Drink, and, if he had, he might not have chosen his place right beside it. He and Mate waited for a long time in case the creature returned, but eventually they heard the young calling again and returned to the nest to gather and guard them once more.
Because he and Mate had not finished foraging, Squawk-Click did not eat as much as he usually did that day, which never felt good. Neither he nor Mate could ignore the urge to watch the nest and the young, and he did not think that would change soon. For a time, it didn't.
But then he heard the creature, back from the Water Not To Drink. It was shouting, a puny shout from a puny being. Mate was already running toward the sound. Squawk-Click took one final look at the nest and the young before springing up after her.
He heard Mate's bellow ahead. Squawk-Click wanted to be there with her, adding his volume to hers, but her call was cut short, replaced with a loud thump. Squawk-Click hastened his step and arrived on at the sand, glaring down once again at the creature from the Water Not To Drink.
The creature looked different. Its side-appendages did not end in soft claws anymore, but a long piece of tree, pointed at one end and splattered with red. The creature was not running; instead it hunched even smaller, its piece of tree directed at Squawk-Click. Beside it, on the sand, was Mate, as still as the young it had taken earlier. Her tail feathers did not puff in excitement; her wings did not beat. Red liquid drained from a hole below her neck.
Squawk-Click bellowed with a rage he did not think would ever leave him. If he shouted until he could not shout, if he ate until he could not eat, if he ran until he could not run, he could not have exhausted the anger he felt at this creature. Even as he kicked and whooped at the intruder, he knew that calm was gone from him forever, that, if he broke the creature with his next kick, if today became yesterday's yesterday's yesterday, he would still hate this creature, still want to break it again for all that it had done to Squawk-Click's life.
He never got that chance. Squawk-Click slipped on the sand, and the creature from the Water Not To Drink lurched forward with the piece of tree. Squawk-Click felt pain, then numbness, then darkness.
***
Squawk-Click did not know where he was. He could not see his surroundings, only a brightness like staring at the sun. He could not feel the ground. His legs would not bend; in fact, he could not feel anything there to bend. He could feel no wings to beat, and no neck to turn. He could not even bellow, because he couldn't find a beak to open.
After what seemed like a very long time, Squawk-Click felt something, though he didn't know how. The something was not a part of his body or even really a thing at all; a thought, a warm presence was with him, and though it was not easy without the sight of her plumage or the sound of her call, Squawk-Click recognized the sensation of Mate.
Mate! Squawk-Click felt her, and he knew that she felt him, too. They were not anywhere or anything they had been before, but Squawk-Click felt some relief to know they were together.
Squawk-Click also felt hatred. He sensed the same in Mate, and she in him. A concentrated ire built in them both, more substantial than they themselves had become, toward the cause of all their loss.
Squawk-Click saw the creature from the Water Not To Drink. It was still standing on the sand by the edge of the forest, still clutching to a piece of tree. He did not see the creature from any one perspective as his eyes would have; he viewed the object of his bitterness from all directions at once, even some he did not know existed. Mate, too, honed in on the scourge of their beings.
A thought passed from Squawk-Click to Mate, and Mate's presence heated in agreement. They would devote themselves to the task they had not finished, would assault this creature, in whatever way they could for as long as it breathed.
( Turn information )
Squawk-Click had met Mate before yesterday's yesterday's yesterday. Their courtship had been so long ago that Squawk-Click couldn't say how old it was, only that it was older than most of the things he remembered. Sometime after he had fought for his share of his mother's attention, after he had become strong enough to leave her, but before he had provided for the young. All of these memories rested sometime before yesterday's yesterday's yesterday, but he somehow knew that they had not always been.
Squawk-Click had chosen his place at the edge of the trees, near the Water Not To Drink. It was a good place, because it was full of growing food and and easy to keep his, since the Water Not To Drink guarded one of its borders. He could sit in the middle of it and do all of his favorite things, like bellow his favorite call, eat his favorite leaves, and stretch his neck around and try to preen the feathers behind his head. He slept there, feeling safe, because he bellowed his bellow for a long time every day, and no one else would enter because they would know that it was his. If anyone ever did enter, he would show them his big wings and bellow louder, and they'd have to go away. And if *that* didn't work, he could always kick them.
But one day, someone had entered Squawk-Click's place. He'd been munching on a clump of growing food when something made a noise nearby, and he'd known then and there that he'd have to go confront whoever it was right away, or his place wouldn't be his place anymore. With his wings spread and his head raised, he ran toward the intruder, calling out his own name.
The intruder had been Mate! But Mate was not Mate then; she was still new. When he saw her standing there, at the edge of his place, Squawk-Click became very excited. But he was not excited the way he normally was when strangers entered his place. He felt good about this female being in his place. He wanted to show her more of it, and to make her stay.
So Squawk-Click got her attention with his favorite bellow. He spread out his wings as much as he could and showed her how big he was, how brown his feathers were, and how loud his call was. He strutted around the edge of his entire place to show much was his, beating his wings the whole way to make sure she was watching. And when he was done, he bellowed even louder, because she had walked even further into his place.
Squawk-Click collected some of his favorite foods in his place for her, like the long green ones under his scratching tree and the little round ones that hung from the bush by his sitting spot. He offered these to her, and she took them, which made him feel even better, because he liked her very much, especially when he looked at her long tail feathers and bright beak.
After she had eaten all that Squawk-Click had brought her, she made a call of her own, more beautiful than anything Squawk-Click had ever heard before. Squawk-Click repeated his own call, and she bowed her head and made the motion that Squawk-Click knew meant she was his now, and she became Mate.
Mate was a very good mate, too. When he built her a nest, she filled it with many eggs. Squawk-Click valued these more than anything else in his place, the entire forest even. When the young emerged from these same eggs, he and Mate spent almost all of their time on them, finding them food and keeping them safe. They listened intently to their tiny squeaks; they were, to their parents' ears, the loudest sounds in the forest, even during the clatter of the heaviest rain.
But today, while Squawk-Click and Mate had been away from the nest, foraging, the young made a sound that they had never heard before. It made Squawk-Click feel very uncomfortable, painful in a part of himself he couldn't usually feel, a part that wanted to make sure they never made that sound again. He and Mate abandoned the hunt for food and started running back to the nest, screaming as loud as they could.
A strange creature was standing in the nest. It had no feathers, only a patchwork of different colored hides, dirty and dripping wet. It stood on two stubby, backward-bent legs, ending in a single bulbous toe each. They thickened as they extended upward, then merged into a wide column, eventually joined yet again by another appendage on each side. The side-appendages hung down, angled, tapered, and ended in sets of grasping claws. Atop it all, the creature's abbreviated neck supported a bulbous pink head, covered on top and back with something that looked like slender, black grass. The head lacked a beak; instead, there was an open horizontal slit on its front, just below a pair of raised, downward-facing holes. Just above and on either side of this, two tiny eyes with too much white stared up at Squawk-Click.
Already, Squawk-Click hated this creature for entering his place and his nest. He hated this creature for scattering the young which still chattered their unsettling yelps. But Squawk-Click hated this creature most of all when he saw one of the young hanging in its bunched claws, and when he saw that the young was not moving, only swinging by its neck as the intruder shook.
Squawk-Click and Mate bounded toward the intruder, ready to break it with a snap of any of their powerful legs. The creature ran, but its tiny legs could not step as high or as far as Squawk-Click's. Only a little ahead of Squawk-Click and Mate, it fled to the edge of the forest and away from Squawk-Click's place. Normally, that would be enough for Squawk-Click, but this creature, still holding one of the young, was too abhorrent to let slink away. Mate and Squawk-Click pursued it across the sand and all the way to the edge of the Water Not To Drink, where it hurled the young to the sand where Squawk-Click stood. Mate pushed it with her beak, but the young did not move from where it landed, and somehow Squawk-Click knew it never would.
Squawk-Click and Mate bellowed at the creature as it moved off and vanished, floating on the surface of the Water Not To Drink. Squawk-Click had never known any creature to emerge from the Water Not To Drink, and, if he had, he might not have chosen his place right beside it. He and Mate waited for a long time in case the creature returned, but eventually they heard the young calling again and returned to the nest to gather and guard them once more.
Because he and Mate had not finished foraging, Squawk-Click did not eat as much as he usually did that day, which never felt good. Neither he nor Mate could ignore the urge to watch the nest and the young, and he did not think that would change soon. For a time, it didn't.
But then he heard the creature, back from the Water Not To Drink. It was shouting, a puny shout from a puny being. Mate was already running toward the sound. Squawk-Click took one final look at the nest and the young before springing up after her.
He heard Mate's bellow ahead. Squawk-Click wanted to be there with her, adding his volume to hers, but her call was cut short, replaced with a loud thump. Squawk-Click hastened his step and arrived on at the sand, glaring down once again at the creature from the Water Not To Drink.
The creature looked different. Its side-appendages did not end in soft claws anymore, but a long piece of tree, pointed at one end and splattered with red. The creature was not running; instead it hunched even smaller, its piece of tree directed at Squawk-Click. Beside it, on the sand, was Mate, as still as the young it had taken earlier. Her tail feathers did not puff in excitement; her wings did not beat. Red liquid drained from a hole below her neck.
Squawk-Click bellowed with a rage he did not think would ever leave him. If he shouted until he could not shout, if he ate until he could not eat, if he ran until he could not run, he could not have exhausted the anger he felt at this creature. Even as he kicked and whooped at the intruder, he knew that calm was gone from him forever, that, if he broke the creature with his next kick, if today became yesterday's yesterday's yesterday, he would still hate this creature, still want to break it again for all that it had done to Squawk-Click's life.
He never got that chance. Squawk-Click slipped on the sand, and the creature from the Water Not To Drink lurched forward with the piece of tree. Squawk-Click felt pain, then numbness, then darkness.
***
Squawk-Click did not know where he was. He could not see his surroundings, only a brightness like staring at the sun. He could not feel the ground. His legs would not bend; in fact, he could not feel anything there to bend. He could feel no wings to beat, and no neck to turn. He could not even bellow, because he couldn't find a beak to open.
After what seemed like a very long time, Squawk-Click felt something, though he didn't know how. The something was not a part of his body or even really a thing at all; a thought, a warm presence was with him, and though it was not easy without the sight of her plumage or the sound of her call, Squawk-Click recognized the sensation of Mate.
Mate! Squawk-Click felt her, and he knew that she felt him, too. They were not anywhere or anything they had been before, but Squawk-Click felt some relief to know they were together.
Squawk-Click also felt hatred. He sensed the same in Mate, and she in him. A concentrated ire built in them both, more substantial than they themselves had become, toward the cause of all their loss.
Squawk-Click saw the creature from the Water Not To Drink. It was still standing on the sand by the edge of the forest, still clutching to a piece of tree. He did not see the creature from any one perspective as his eyes would have; he viewed the object of his bitterness from all directions at once, even some he did not know existed. Mate, too, honed in on the scourge of their beings.
A thought passed from Squawk-Click to Mate, and Mate's presence heated in agreement. They would devote themselves to the task they had not finished, would assault this creature, in whatever way they could for as long as it breathed.
( Turn information )
