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Post by Kae on Sept 16, 2010 8:20:48 GMT -5
After having feasted well on the remains of the Cross Roads deer kills, the old Raven took flight at sunset, setting off towards the cliff face with a tough strip of meat and sinew in her talons. A warm draft of air swept up from the valley and carried her easily on its currents; she relished its feel on her wings, as she knew the cold chill of winter would soon be seeping into the valley. She angled up to a sharp cliff face and located the small crevice that hid her nest, alighting carefully at the edge of the angled rock and dipping under the shelter of a thin, narrow, and rambling cave.
She nestled into a bed of sticks and black down, preening her feathers calmly in a nighttime grooming ritual as the twilight came, dusk deepening the shadows of the thin cave. A rockfall had sealed the cave from the back hundreds of years ago, leaving only the dusty tunnel of rock to stretch back about 20 feet before it ended in boulders, serving as a perfect nest and nook for the raven. In the distance, a few howls echoed up from the hills or from the wolf dens far below the slope, but she paid them no heed.
Shortly, she fell into a deep, undisturbed sleep, waiting for dawn to break. Her dreams were strange, as they often were: a melting mix of memories and possibilities. A flock of ravens circling over a pack, calling them onwards to the hunt as the white wolves trudged single-file through a deep, burying snow. Her mate flitting by, ash falling from his wing tips, the feathers turning as bright as the sun against the sky. A howl, and then another, in mourning: their pups were falling to the winter's deep chill, born too late in the season to have the strength to survive; drums beat, human drums, adding a base to the wolf song, as the wind howled along with them.
Dawn crept into the cave mouth as a wedge of direct sunlight, and the raven awoke slowly, letting her dreams dance still before her mind's eye. Eventually, she stood, rising from the warmth of her nest and digging gently with her beak, taking inventory of how much she had stored for the coming winter: seeds, nuts, withered apples. The leftover deer she had brought with her wouldn't last long.
She took wing into the dawn light, circling down the rocky mountainside to the tree line in search of a snack and anything else she may find of interest.
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Post by MissTris on Sept 16, 2010 15:45:43 GMT -5
Off in the distance, against the stark morning sky did a white wolf spy the old Raven. A sign, he was sure. A blessing.....
Shatter glass was roaming through Cross Roads land. Ever did he wander between the two. He also spied the Raven the ghostly white wolf had. His eyes so emerald green follow the black bird, awed by it, so graceful, beautiful bird...
He watched it from the corner of his eye as he slithered through the brush and gorse. He was not the mood for rabbit, nor mole or mouse. He was on Cross Roads land though, and so he made due with what he had present. He slunk into the tall grass of one of the clear spots and drew a deep breath, no quail...wait! He smiles a predator smile and moves slowly. The grass blades move making the hush hush noise, as though in warning to any to stay quiet and still as the hunter sought his prey. There!
Nearly to late, so nearly... Shatter Glass is larger than he appears and catches it by the tail as it takes to sky in a whirl, a frantic 'ERR ERR!' rising from it's working throat until it works no longer. Shatter has torn it's head off, and was tearing away feathers. There were no chicks for it was to late in the year, sadly. He likes chicks, warm little mouth fulls of fluff. mmmmm
He curls upon himself to eat the bird, laying in the tall grass. A furred snake, a secret.
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Post by Kae on Sept 17, 2010 22:41:16 GMT -5
The cry of the ground-nesting bird caught the raven's ear, and she looped over the meadow, a sharp eye scanning for whatever bird had just taken flight. Quail were small and harmless enough that, should she be given the opportunity, the old raven would happily take a dive at it from the wing and possibly snag a fresh meal of her own.
She didn't see it, though. Something had spooked it, however, whether fox or cat or otherwise, and she knew from experience that it was often worth the wait to see if it would happen again, or at least locate some remains afterward when a successful predator showed itself. So, the raven croaked out a greeting call and alighted on the top of a boulder to look out over the brush to wait.
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Post by MissTris on Sept 17, 2010 23:01:25 GMT -5
The caw halts his feeding and he snarls there in the grass, he hates scavengers for the most part and had only half heard it and believed it an old mangy crow. This time of year the Crows were around more than ever, and nothing like their beautiful counterparts, Ravens, at least...not to his kind.
His ears rise from the grass, black tips looking much like weird plant seeds that drifted and caught on the long grass. He continues to eat curled there in the dried weeds, feathers going everywhere. He mumbles something about peace and quiet, had he known it was a raven...
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Post by Kae on Sept 17, 2010 23:31:54 GMT -5
Long moments ticked by, and slowly the early morning birdsong began to creep back into the air, chirps flitting through the brush. The raven cocked her head, listening, and then began to preen as she waited.
With a sudden, high-pitched screech, a blue jay dove up at her, his bright wings flapping in her face. The raven squawked in irritation, her wings spreading wide as she hopped quickly into the air; the jay followed her into the sky even as she beat him heavily across the breast and face with a single, powerful wingstroke.
"Away, away!" the jay squawked. "Egg eater, hatchling eater!"
The raven scoffed as she flipped an aerial somersault around the enraged jay, "Tis autumn, Mindless Wing, what nest have you to guard?"
"EGG EATER!" the jay spat again as he clumsily flapped his wings around to follow after the raven.
The raven coughed a harsh laugh, "Can one such as your kind truly brand another so harshly?" and she wheeled around him again, her superior acrobatics showing despite their size difference as the two birds squabbled in the sky. "Trust not a nest to Wings of Blue, for all the Eggs shall crack in two, and Down to be stolen for its own Crew," she chanted in a sneer.
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Post by MissTris on Sept 18, 2010 1:00:48 GMT -5
Shatter Glass looked up wearily, Bird fighting? A jay and a Raven. He growled and watched them, amazed and delighted at the abilities of the beautiful Raven teaching the jay his lesson for being such a fool.
"Teach him soundly Lady Storm Wings!" howls the black and gray beast far below rooting for the raven. "Show such a beast it's place!" he carries the half eaten quail with him as he follows the battering birds, watching them with such delight, his tail snapping. Perhaps if the Jay falls close enough...
They don't taste particularly well, but he'd deserve it for his rude nature. Does he not know that next to the Guardian Race the Noble Raven is the most wonderful bird.
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Post by Kae on Sept 18, 2010 1:36:29 GMT -5
While she kept her attention focused on the bombing, picking jay, the raven smiled to herself at the wolf below. She needed to decide now if it was worth fending off this jaybird rather than letting it drive her away; smaller birds had a habit of harrying larger ones.
Pride won out over concerns of energy and time, and the raven batted the jay across the face again before diving towards the ground. The jay scrambled after her, cawing obscenities from his pointed beak; she swooped low over the bushes and with an outstretched claw, snagged off a branch to carry back up into the air again. She looped back, wings angling like jagged black sails, and promptly dropped the branch into the face of the oncoming bird.
"Jay may caw, Jay may squawk, but in the end, Jay's empty talk," she cajoled.
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Post by MissTris on Sept 18, 2010 9:29:10 GMT -5
Close! So close! He'd snapped at the jaybird but it was to far away yet unless he'd taken to jumping. Shatter Glass is circling below how with his excitement, as though this was peter and he the very wolf waiting for that meal. His sharp emerald eyes agleam in wicked glee he cheers again, stunning Raven! So clever you are! He is braced when she drops a branch upon the face of the upturned jay, which surprised it greatly. Might Raven who can take hold of things larger or heavier than such lesser creatures. He snaps his teeth and licks his lips as the jay is falling. He crouches and jumps, teeth crashing together...did he catch it, by tail, by wing? or has it simply cut air? ((I'll let you decide  )) |
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Post by Kae on Sept 18, 2010 18:46:50 GMT -5
The jay's caws attained a new pitch as teeth tore into its wing, and it flapped wildly; the raven felt a pang of empathy for the bird, but merely stashed away the moment as yet another reason to beware the teeth of those who walked the earth's surface.
She doubted the jay would last long, even if this wolf chose to leave it alive. A broken wing was usually the end of a bird. Sweeping back to the same boulder she had perched on before, she bowed to the wolf, her dark, long-feathered wings stark against the dawn's light. "Ah, Wolf Knight, my thanks for your aid with the troublemaker."
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Post by Draconis on Sept 18, 2010 19:04:17 GMT -5
A brown figure perched in the distance, listening to the squabble between the raven and the jay. The bird, a raptor at that, was rather amused by it. Flapping his long wings, the bird flew off the branch and began to glide towards the ruckus, curious as to who won the battle. The bird, a deadly sin by the name of Greed, encircled the area, his shadow danced upon the ground. He made a call, indicating that he was to land, and he dove. Reaching to 50 mph, the raptor Greed slowed down and sat amongst a branch. He had not noticed the wolf, and stared at him with his yellow eyes. Greed began to clamp his black tipped beak constantly, a little scared of the large beast.
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Post by Kae on Sept 18, 2010 19:44:18 GMT -5
Between the fallen jay and the appearance of the hawk, the remaining song birds in the nearby gorse and shrubs had either fallen silent or were tittering away into the distance. The old raven shook herself out and settled a few feathers back into place; she was far too old to be fighting directly with another bird, but pleased with how it had turned out.
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Post by MissTris on Sept 18, 2010 21:13:02 GMT -5
Shatter bowed low to the ranven, jay hanging from his mouth. It cried out until he shook it, rattling it to death. He lay the battered broken bird upon the ground, feathers all askew, almost in offering, this type of presentation. The clicking of a beak flicks his ears around, but not his gaze nor large flat head. "Oh Lady Storm wings, it is a pleasure to see a Raven on this fine morning. Birds of fortune that you be for mine."
He refers to his kin, this is something that the Raven may well know, that and those emerald eyes that glint and flicker. Tell tales of him. His tail lashes some, and h cocks his head off to the side and peers over his shoulder at the Hawk, wondering what may have drawn it there. The astounding raven and the sassy jay bird?
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Post by Draconis on Sept 18, 2010 21:17:41 GMT -5
Greed stared at the raven with ease, not meaning to anger it in anyway, though he felt more confident that he would win. The raptor jumped off the branch once more and began to hover down, closer to the two. "Greed says hello to thee, though Greed has only heard of the rave. Greed was curious as to who won the fight, though I suspected the wise one would win so anyways." Agitated by a sudden itch, greed turned his head around towards his wings and began to scratch at it with his beak.
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Post by Kae on Sept 18, 2010 22:47:10 GMT -5
"Heard of me, have you?" the Raven chuckled. "I hope not in any ill, as the Jay might have claimed," and she cocked her head at its ragged remains, thoughtfully. She had several thoughts coursing through her mind that did not yet leave her beak to voice: this wolf was far from the snowy caps she knew his kind to tread; this raptor was unlikely to steal the corpse from her, though might if hungry enough; this jay would just as likely have attacked the hawk as it attacked her, silly songbirds and their notions of driving away those larger.
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Post by MissTris on Sept 19, 2010 16:39:50 GMT -5
Shatter Glass plucked a bright blue feather, it's white and black patterns dancing nicely as he worked it free. He carefully rose on his back paws and held it out by the nib that had been holding the feather in the skin to the raven. He'd picked this as the prettiest, and wanted to present it to her.
Between his teeth he mutters in an acidic tone "Naturally the powerful Raven would win over so foolish a clapper as the jay...Greed?" the coloration of puzzlement creeps into his voice as he speaks the hawk's name.
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))
