The colt’s attention still hangs on the conversation indecisive as to which side he should choose. Especially as the mare barks back. She shouldn’t talk to Da that way. His Da may be…harsh, but the gold usually knew so much, and- the great tales his parents told (totally without embellishments) rolled in his mind. Torn, the colt was glad to hear his father ready to lea- THUM The colt’s whole body tenses. Sea eyes look up to his Da, to the mare, then back. Both were looking about and tense. Haldir even, the colt sees, moves closer to the group. The harks of the child fall, and his heart starts to beat faster in his chest.
The noise sounds again, and this time Da bumps into the colt’s hip. The sea eyes, with the center white line already trembling, look up. “Da…” But the golden is distracted already looking around. The colt tucks in closer, ever aware of the flames on his back, but feeling fear creep up his skin, digging its claws into the back of his neck. Then his Da turns on him. The colt’s jaw drops. No. His spins around to face the gold as whatever it was made another noise closer. But the colt’s not thinking just of the coming thing anymore. Da wanted him to- “I won’t go.” Not with her. Not to run and hide. Da had told him all those tales of his courage, of bravery. He was fine. He was still standing here. So the colt would be fine. He wouldn’t leave his Da for some strange, especially not when he might be able to have a story of his own to tell.
The crowned head reaches down and shoves the colt, he noted it was careful to avoid the feathers. The babe stumbles a few steps, but they’re instantly retaken without even a look to the mare. “No.” The colt’s voice was not shaky and fearful, though his heart beat that way. Instead it was firm and solid, some inner resilience and stubbornness coming through. “I won’t.”leave you.
The very air seems to have stopped, the world coming to a slow, but gradual stand still as multiple sets of eyes find a place to the West (is it West or North?) to focus on.
THUM
The noise gets louder, louder louder- “W-what-”
The stallion, Thranduil, was already becoming perturbed. His body tensing with every barbed response I gave, clearly not what he was ‘looking’ for in meeting a new face. Or so this is what one would assume by the way his expression slipped into a distasteful scowl. Now that dismay was compounded as a sound like rushing wind takes up through the climbing rocks, kicking sand and whistling almost painfully against the shell of my ear. (Don’t stay still, don’t just stand there!) The voice in my head cries, ringing with alarm. (Move Bathsheba, move!)
THUM- p
This- this sounds just like earlier, that feeling of being watched is back, except this time I know it is not Thranduil or his kin. “That dearie, is something that might find your soul tasty.” He says suddenly and my eyes dart briefly to his. It does not matter that he probably intended it as an insult, all it succeeded in doing was feeding the fear already filtering through my system. Again.
THUMP
With ears pinned back my gaze is drawn to that spot once more, eyes narrowing as I struggle to get a glimpse of something, anything.
Breathe in.
Breathe out.
Breathe in.
Breathe out.
A sharp inhale as something black flickers into visible sight. In a mere manner of moments that small something becomes what could be described as a forelimb. Long, skinny, and… scaled? I snort and jerk my head back. Suddenly Thranduil there is something warm against my legs. Thranduil has inadvertently forced the bulk of his son, Galahad, into the safety of my presence. Gawping in genuine surprise, the man - a desperate plea in his eyes, it is painful to see - asks me to “Take him… please“ and I find that I can do nothing other than nod. All at once I have become the caretaker of a stubborn little boy who turns around to follow after his Father, disobedient thing! I remember being his age, remember learning to follow instruction or suffering the wrath of a woman more terrible than Thranduil could ever hope to be. At least this is my opinion.
As soon as Galahad steps away from my legs I catch sight of a body attached to that arm, snaking its way out from behind a huge cluster of rock. With hind legs groaning I lunge forward, immediately putting myself between Galahad and his Father - ergo: Galahad and danger. He might not see it that way, but being brave and being dead were two very different things. My ears have weaved themselves into my mane, my eyes are wide with fright as I whip around to face the child then, attempting (and failing) to look composed. “Stay still child, you might not like it but you will not be doing your Father any favors if you end up dead.” As a last minute thought, not knowing anything about how or what she might have done, I add “What would your mother say?”
She was hungry, by the Rift she was so hungry. So long, so many moonless nights had come and gone since her last meal. Her body was weakened with the sore lack of sustenance, so much so that she was unable to catch child. Her mate had been… most displeased. It was a terrible weakness amongst the tribe, a female that could not bear young. Yet! How many of the young now growing their wings and sharpening their claws, were hers? How many? Too many to count, but her body remembered.
It mattered not. All she knew was that she needed to find food, and she needed to find it fast. As soon as the delectable stench of equine brushed her palette, she moved. Would it be one of the mer-horses? Swimming just a bit too close to shore. Sometimes their colts were known to be that foolish. Or perhaps it was a Dryad, a crawler of the forest whose skin was tough and chewy, but their meat was soft and sweet. He nostrils quivered with excitement as long arms stretched out on either side of her waning figure. The wind whistled hauntingly through her feathers, and the she-beast hummed with appreciation at how nice it felt.
As easily as the smallest bird, the creature then leapt from the high-reaching ledge. Rock cracked and tumbled down the cliff as she broke away. With one, then two great sweeps of her wings, she was airborne. The hunt was on.
.
.
You are being hunted by a Sokava (p. Sokavi) Beast! These are massive raptor-like birds, easily bigger than a large grizzly. They live in ’tribes’ that only gather for large hunts, or for mating purposes. They are not particularly magical, but they are big, fast, and built to bully!
Resembling a condor in appearance, they have four digits attached to a large knuckle on each wing. They use these as fingers to grip rock-faces and slice into prey. Their legs are long and skinny, but can kill a horse with one strike, beware! Their mouths resemble something more like an eagles, but have no fear, these creatures can eat you whole if they wanted to. These raptors have jaws that split three ways on the sides and right down the middle of the bottom. They open into a gaping chasm of teeth set further back into the throat, as they cannot chew with their beaks. Their tongues are bright orange and red, and can reach up to seven feet.
Riptide Isles
