Not Alone

Scorch this sun-cycle...

She wearily sighed as she slowly circled high in the sky. Her eyes narrowed on the trees far below and the mountainsides, searching for any prey all the while. This familiar range that she had lived in for over a pawful of season-cycles was harsh, cruel, very empty of prey, had many ponds with some fish in them, and...

It was safe.

There were no dangers or threats to her. None of the two-leg-can-be-prey-can-be-Monsters nested in her range. These mountains had nothing for them. They could not grow the plants that they eat. There were too many rocks here, and it was too cold in the cold-season. There were some of the two-leg-Monsters in a large nest a half-sun flight along the mountain range where the mountains fade into hills and a long, empty plain.

Cold.

It flew with her liver and life-flight at times. How many season-cycles had it been since she had seen another dark wing deserving of the name? The last ones had been her own hatching nest. Too many two-leg-Monsters had been ranging near where she had hatched, so she had flown far with the sun's flight once she fledged. She flew until she had not seen any of the two-leg-Monsters at all. Then she kept flying until she found these ranges and mountains. A perfect range to claim as her own and as the only true hunter and survivor!

For there were no other dark wings now, as far as she knew. In truth, there was one but that bad-empty-liver one was false! Not a true dark wing! Its life-fire was rotted and empty, if it even had one!

She growled at herself.

No, bad thought-hunter. That is all the past. I am hunting now...

Her thoughts flew out of the past and to the now. To the prey hiding down below in the trees, safe from her. Then a soft growl escaped her jaws when she saw it down below. A four-leg large-horn prey had wandered away from the hidden herd and was now in the open.

Wings tucked and fins held close to her side. No wind-scream of pain.

Almost...

The prey usually would look up or see her attack-dive. This prey though was very busy eating the grass and was not looking up.

Down over the trees and into the clearing. Hind legs thrust forward, claws extended, as she gave a great beat of her wings to stop her fall.

The prey brayed once and was hurled to the ground. She pounced on it and snapped its neck. A few others of the same prey bounded away through the trees. Those future-prey did not matter. This one was enough.

She picked up the dead prey with her limbs and jaws and carried the catch up into the sky. Over to a ledge on the mountain she flew, landed, and then dropped the catch out of sight. There were some of the four-leg-pack-hunters in the range. They were no threat to her, but they could be very brave and liver-flamed when there was a new catch and meat within their snap.

Then she stepped back from the catch and caught her breath. Her fast flying life-beating-organ slowed as she lay down possessively on the prey and purred her victory to herself. The prey's life-water coating her tongue and jaws was very sweet. Even sweeter was the taste of triumph, of a hunt that ended with the hunter, her, claiming the prize.

Almost a moon-cycle since the last hunt, and now I eat! I am a hunter!

Her roar of triumph and joy filled the sky and echoed off the mountain.

She left behind nothing but empty, chewed-on bones and the outer fur. Everything worth eating went into her belly. Her very filled belly left her with much sleep-wanting.

Sleep...

She lay down on the ledge, which was covered in prey life-water, licked her claws and jaws clean, and gave in to sleep-wanting.

Her belly and liver were warmed.

Sigh.

If only she did not need to sleep alone. But she was alone. There were almost no kin in these ranges. She was the only true one of her kind of kin. That was what the winds of her life wanted for her. It was the natural way.

She was still safe, if somewhat cold also.

Alone.

The life-slowing-season had arrived, and it was time to begin getting the cold-season weight. Eating all she could was most important. Several of the ponds were mostly emptied of fish. One of the smaller prey-herds of four-legs was reduced by a pawful until it was not even a herd.

The cool wind blew in her face and ruffled her few frills, her great green wings, and her fins. Down to her hidden den she dove after a modest meal.

It was the circle that was so normal. Sleep, wake, hunt, catch, eat, drink, sleep.

All alone. Unbroken. Unchanging.

Empty life.

She threw out her wings and touched down on the ground. Her thoughts were up in the clouds as she began padding into her den.

Then she froze.

Inside her den was another kin. Not any kin though.

It was a male dark wing!

She remembered it from so many season-cycles ago. It found her in this range, flew after her, showed how strong it was, and showed that it was worth mating with. They both answered their life-making need, but the male did not stay with her. It flew away after it did what it meant to do.

Hunting was always hard in her range, and her little one, once it hatched, had needed so much food. Food she had not been able to hunt for both her and her little one... But that was not truly her own fault. The sire should have stayed and helped at least until the little one was fledged and could fly and hunt on its own. Not her fault.

The bark of alarm and fear escaped her before she was aware of it.

Not safe!

She spun away, jumped for the sky, and flew low over the trees and along the mountain. That good, warm den was fouled and lost now. Maybe the male would miss her and she could escape. Her color might help her hide some against the green of the trees.

She glanced over her shoulder.

The male had seen her, and it was flying for her.

Waste!

Her wings beat faster to carry her to safety and hiding. Hopefully.

Up the slope of a mountain and between rock-spires, tipping onto her side at times and trying to hide behind ledges in silent gliding.

But she could not foul the male's flight, and it was getting closer to her tail.

Cold fire filled her liver at the bad-truth. She could not outfly it. This had to be a fight on the ground, and there was a perfect rocky ledge on the nearest ridgetop.

A quick dive toward the highest peak followed before she heavily touched down in her haste. Then she spun in place to face the pursuer. She slightly crouched on her hind legs, extended her wings wide in threat-sign, tapped her claws on the rocky ground, and bared her teeth.

The male dark wing landed just down the ridge from her. But she had the high ground and snarled her defiance at it. If it was going to fight her and try to force-mate her, it would die even if that meant that she would never get an egg or hatchling again. Even if this was the last male dark wing in all the ranges!

Its deep green eyes narrowed on her as it...

Lay down on its belly?

Did not move toward her?

What?

Neither of them moved.

Then she noticed something that she had missed in her liver-chill and fleeing-flight.

This dark wing was smaller than the rotted-false one. This dark wing had not come for her in the new-life mating-season or with wild-hungry-wanting in its eyes.

It was a different male dark wing.

That idea, that hope, put a small fire in her liver. Even more than small when she saw how many head-frills he had and how strong he looked. He was life-making mature, if only slightly larger than she was.

How many cycles had she been alone? Too many. Too many had been spent thinking that the sky-breath meant for her to never know the warmth of a tail around hers, to never be wrapped up in another's wings, to never fly a sky-dance, and to never sit eggs and hatchlings with a true mate.

Maybe...

She relaxed slightly and sat back on her haunches while lowering her wings. The male took that as an invitation to rise and advance.

But this was her range. She did not know him. He had old hurt-marks around his neck and chest. He was a strong fighter, despite his not-truly-large size.

She flashed her teeth again and snarled softly. It was a first test of him. If he knew the ceremonies and knew to bend his wings to another in a range that was not his, then maybe he would know to stay with her also if...

He stopped and sat down again while softly grumbling to himself.

Good...

His ears went back, and he crooned softly as he still stared at her.

"Do not have fear," he whispered.

The world and life that she knew crashed down around her. It should not have surprised her that another of her own kin, another dark wing, would have words. But it had been so long since she had heard any words spoken. Maybe other types of kin could talk to their own kin but only like kinds of kin could hear the other? The rotted-male false-dark-wing did not talk to her back then, whether because it could not or because it saw no need. She preferred to think that its rot was total, and that it did not have any words.

But this true dark wing did have words.

"You can talk?" she warbled back.

She knew that her voice was harsh from the many season-cycles of not using it.

"I think so," he answered.

A tease? A strong-thinking word-twisting? And he remained on his belly throughout, not moving a scale from where he lay.

He knew the ceremony and knew to be respectful to her on her range.

She relaxed further, tilted her head to the side, and warmly stared at him. What was his life-story? How did he find her?

What he wanted was obvious. His wide green eyes, deep purr, and alone-scent carried on the wind spoke for that. And the small fire in her liver burned slightly warmer at the much-good-idea.

After all those season-cycles of hoping and surviving, she was not alone.

"Who are you?" she asked while staring wide-eyed at him.

A very brief pause followed in which the wind ruffled his wings and fins. He opened his toothless maw and warmly hummed at the question.

"I am Was-Grounded."

Author's Note – Looking back on volume II, I realized that I could have done more to give Green-Wings some development and scenes from her perspective. This should have conveyed that she is a confident, capable, wild survivor. She has suffered some in the past, but those hurts were not internalized because they were not her fault. Hence, everything that happens after this meeting and what these two become to each other is 'organic' and rather uncomplicated. They both want the same thing from life. While characters who have major personal problems are 'interesting' and 'dramatic', there is also something to be said for portraying people who are fundamentally whole, stable, and healthy, even if they still have some learning and growing to do.