A Bird in the Hand (Khida)

[Colt]

31st of Summer That morning, day broke in a less than spectacular manner. The sky was overcast and light struggled to break through and heat the already warm earth to the blazing oven that was so common now that summer was approaching its zenith. The dark gray clouds wheezed their way to silver, trying their best to look imposing but ending up looking groggy, as if they weren’t quite awake but trying to pretend that they knew what was going on. He stood at the mouth of his cave, breathing in the breeze that tousled his hair. Rain was coming. Rolling his shoulders and receiving many satisfying cracks in return, he looked through the trees for the flash of gray that was becoming familiar. Trotting lazily to the small hill near the mouth of the cavern, he made himself as tall as he possibly could and whistled shrilly. He wasn’t sure if she would come or not. They had hunted together numerous times in the past, but no pattern had yet been built and he held no expectations. She would come if she wished, and if she didn’t then he would forage for food on his own.

[Khida]

Despite the breeze, the air lay heavily on her feathers, in a manner which foreboded rain -- not soon, but soon enough. Rain which stuck to plumage, winds to scramble the normal patterns of air; nothing pleasant, in short, and nothing she'd be able to hunt in. Even if she was desperate enough to try, no prey would be out. Clicking her beak in irritation at the thought, Khida shook the sleep from her feathers and stretched out her wings, angling tips to just miss the boughs to either side. Her perch, high in a tree's summer-verdant crown, conveniently overlooked a part of the river where she often spotted likely prey; the falcon needed only sit, watch, and wait. She had settled in to do exactly that, adjusting her grip on the branch for ready flight, when a whistle never voiced by bird cut through the surrounding burble and bustle. The falcon craned her head around to look across the water, towards the cavern mouth the man usually retreated into -- but he wasn't there. She spotted him on the nearby rise instead, and spent a moment considering his profile. A brief moment: on this day, with storm looming on the horizon, a hunting partner seemed like a very good thing indeed. Khida dropped from the branch and stretched out her wings, gliding low over the underbrush; though smaller birds scattered away as she swept through, she paid them little attention. Once over the water, and the break it forced in the canopy, she climbed up to fly over the trees; with past expeditions in mind, the peregrine passed high above the man, then banked a turn and winged her way to the crack which punched through the walls. There, she perched on a jagged peak of raw gray stone, waiting for the man to reach it -- presuming that was his intent, but outside had been his preferred territory all those times before.

[Colt]

Somewhere else, a number of small birds fled to the sky as something disturbed them. More birds roused and escaped the trees as the something made a straight line for where the man was standing, the small animals of the little forest fleeing from the creature that usually meant danger. She slid into the open air over the lake and climbed over the canopy; where finches and jays could easily slip through twigs, her significantly larger form made it a bit more difficult to leave the overgrowth. The falcon banked for the crack in the wall, and a feral grin found its way onto the hunter’s face as he followed. Their sporadic hunting forays were becoming more regular, and if things continued to develop then getting food would be much easier than it had been in the recent past. He saw her perched on a crag and paused, nodded in recognition and slipped into the crack.

[Khida]

She saw him nod, a gesture of many potential meanings -- but most boiled down to approval or assent, and Khida took it in that positive light. As he slipped into the crack and made his way outside, she pushed off from her temporary perch, flight curving up and over the crater wall. The falcon passed out over the grasslands, a splotch of light gray silhouetted against the sullen sky. In this overcast, with the lack of sun-sent heat, she had to work for every bit of altitude -- no convenient thermals rose up from the rolling ground below. Partly because of that, she didn't travel far, not so far as she would if scouting for prey alone; rather, the bird soon banked back around to circle over the passage's exit. Though their joint forays were becoming more the rule than exceptions, she largely approached them as she would an opportunistic encounter: taking advantage of whatever the land-bound stalker might happen to flush out. So she lingered overhead, waiting to see what direction he would set out in this time.

[Colt]

He emerged onto the plains and immediately searched for what had become his partner. After a few moments he caught sight of a black dot against the gray sky, and the reluctance of any other birds to accompany it marked it as the raptor. He returned his attention to the grasses spread out before him, assessing the weather and potential hunting grounds, and after a few heartbeats set off southwards. He knew that the nearby stream headed in that direction, and the small rise of trees in the distance suggested a pond or some similar body of water. Waterfowl were relatively easy to spot and flush and they usually came in large groups, providing hunters with a number of choices. With the cool weather, it seemed likely that many of them would be out enjoying the shade before the storm, but he would have to reach them quickly. Slithering through the grass and weaving around the brush, he did his best to keep up a speedy lope without tiring or endangering himself. He didn’t know this area, so his eye was more focused on the ground in front of him than it would have been otherwise. He simply trusted that the falconess was following him, unable to confirm for himself. After what seemed like an eternity, the hunter reached the cluster of trees. They weren’t particularly large or impressive but trees meant water so they shone like a glorious star to any thirst animal in sight. Through the trunks and shrubbery he could see the glitter of water and hear the quacking of ducks, possibly the honk of a goose as well. He couldn’t determine the size of the water, but it seemed populated enough. He retreated and looked upwards. Unconsciously, the hunter made the Drykas sign for prey, then crouched and slipped into the trees.

[Khida]

Aloft, small crosswise breezes tugged at her feathers; though little enough now, they spoke of the greater winds following behind. Maybe sooner than she had initially thought -- but the falcon was little bothered by this possibility. She would make a kill, and feed, and spend the rest of the day safely out of the winds' reach; and then, the air could do whatever it liked. She would care again tomorrow, but tomorrow was not of concern today. For now, there were the grasses below, they prey they hid, and the man who hunted in them. Khida noted as he cast his gaze upwards, but made no action to acknowledge; each knew the other observed, and that their objectives aligned. What more should they require? She drifted on the air currents as he observed the landscape, patient as any stalking predator must be. The falcon could not know what went through his head as he chose a direction, the metrics and evaluations which informed his decision, but she continued to go along with it. She left off circling as he began to move, cutting a path through the air that didn't so much follow as elaborate upon his own. Her passage through the air untroubled by such things as dense thickets and prickly burrs, Khida tried to predict his objective as she flew above. It wasn't the grouse she suspected watched from the shadows of one cluster of shrubs, nor the ground-doves she occasionally glimpsed through wind-parted stalks. It wasn't the pheasant she was almost certain huddled down tense and still only a few yards from his passage. No. He made the gesture he often did, the one that seemed to signal he'd found likely quarry -- -- and ducked into the copse of trees. She might hunt from a tree; she didn't hunt through trees, however scraggly in their tenacity. Did he think she was an accipiter, to weave between branches in her pursuit of prey? Khida dropped down the levels of air, backwinging to perch in the canopy of one of the outermost trees. She tipped her head to peer through the branches at him with one bright eye, whistling a sharp query and insistent demand. Maybe there was something to be said for better communication than their ad-hoc system of inference and expectation -- but here and now, it was falcon shape the Kelvic needed, and falcon she remained. OOCFigured they were due a 'what are you thinking?' moment!

[Colt]

He looked up to see if she was following. She was not.

He halted and turned around. She was settling herself into one of the outer trees, gaze piercing the leaves and giving him an incredulous look. He tilted his head. Why wasn’t she following?

She gave him a sharp whistle, demanding some sort of explanation. He jerked his head towards the center of the trees and again signed prey. What had caused her to stop?

Did she not fly through trees? He tilted his head the other way. That might explain it. He frowned. Then how would they hunt?

He turned to look back at the center of the trees. Another unconscious signal, wait, was given before he slipped deeper into the undergrowth.

He quickly caught sight of a green pond, and upon the pond was a multitude of waterbirds. At least five ducks and one gray goose lazed about the surface, preening and ducking and doing waterbird things. He looked across the pond, around the pond, and his gaze soon rose above the pond.

Of course. The big opening in tree cover was more than enough space for her to take one of them. He hurried back to where she rested, and when he pinpointed her location once more he uttered a discreet ke-ke-ke-ke-ke, then pointed directly up. Follow me from up there.

[Khida]

The man made another gesture, one which perplexed the falcon. She closed her talons a bit more tightly upon the branch as he turned away, leaving her with nothing but a quiet sign and the puzzle of his departure. He skulked through the brush, slow and cautious, what she thought to be a hunter's careful investigation. The raptor leaned up on her perch and peered through the green foliage, tipping her head as required to glimpse him around the leaves -- inasmuch as she could. He did rather better at blending in than she might have expected. Khida spent some moments in wondering if he'd gone away on his own and left her behind. That would be very disappointing... though she didn't think he would do so, given that they had hunted together before, and well. So she resolved to wait... at least for a little while. Eventually, a glimpse of movement rewarded her patience, fortunately before it wore out -- human movement, the man picking his way through the shrubbery in return. The peregrine perked up at the sight, and at the man's soft call. The gesture up was perfectly transparent to her. And while she didn't know what he was thinking, above the trees was definitely a venue the falcon could do. She lifted her wings, hesitated a moment with a glance back at the man, then launched herself from the branch and flew back out of the tree's canopy. Out -- and up, rising for a clearer angle of view as well as per his direction. His plan remained obscure, but if it involved her going over the canopy -- okay, Khida could resume going along with it.

[Colt]

She took to the air eagerly, and within moments she had ascended above the trees and out of sight. It was then that the hunter realized the flaw in his plan: he could no longer see her. The rough communication that had been developing over the season was now completely useless.

He looked back towards the pond. How could he indicate to her what exactly he was doing? Warn her when he was going to do it? He could have thought this through a little better.

He closed his eyes and focused on the sounds of the ducks quacking. After a few moments, the sounds of the plains calmed his thoughts and cleared his mind. He realized that she had probably not gone particularly far; if anything, she was most likely still above the trees. If he made a noise loud enough, she would almost certainly hear him.

He turned and trotted back to the pond. The ducks and goose were still paddling about and doing duck things. A few eyes him warily, but never had a predator disturbed them whilst they were on the water, and when he made no move to change that fact they lost interest.

He narrowed his eyes as he watched their movements, waiting for the perfect moment to strike. Here one snapped at another, there the goose bullied a little one out of a morsel. And then they were all at the center of the pond, bickering over a sudden find.

The hunter lowered his head and sprinted, letting loose a piercing ke-ke-ke-ke. He leaped, tucked his knees to his chest and landed in the pond with a massive splash, sending startled fowl flapping into the air.

[Khida]

From above, Khida could clearly see the trees, practically glowing green under the warm summer sun -- one and all in full leaf, shrouding the earth from her view. That wouldn't be so bad a thing, if she had a better idea of what the man intended. She could see the grasses beyond the copse, stretching off in gently undulating hills towards the horizon; given as he had gone into the trees when he walked away before, the falcon was reasonably confident she could ignore that entire area. She needed only consider the ring of trees and the pond in their center. He had been... there... when she last had sight of him, and he had walked... that way... into the trees, before. The falcon came around to overfly what she knew of the man's previous course, guessing he would follow it again. Anything under the trees would likely shelter within their branches or a denser patch of undergrowth, which left the waterfowl in the middle of the pond as the most probable targets. But her knowledge of his actions was badly limited -- had he turned? Stopped? Did he see her above the trees any better than she could perceive him below? Khida didn't think so, and as she continued to circle overhead, she began to realize this was going to pose a serious problem. These thoughts were abruptly interrupted as an imitation of her own cry rang out from amidst the trees below. Surprised, Khida pivoted about to see the man come running out from under the trees and vault into the pond, splashing up water and fowl alike. He had not been where she expected, at all, and as the fowl scattered upwards, the peregrine found herself not in the position she had wanted to achieve. Of all the startled birds, only one had fanned out on a trajectory she thought she had a reasonable chance to intercept. Trying to make up for their discoordination, she hastily projected the fowl's course forward, adjusted her own angle of flight, and dove. It didn't take very long into the stoop for Khida to realize her attack just wasn't going to work; she needed to cross too much horizontal space, as well as the vertical distance. She didn't have the angle or the speed for a fisted-talon strike to succeed, as much because the fowl would almost certainly see her before she closed -- and a raking strike had the same issue. Still, she followed through on her dive, continuing to close -- -- only for the fowl to glimpse her in its peripheral vision, breaking off to one side in an evasive maneuver. The peregrine snapped her wings open, angling them to send her following after, hoping she could at least catch it and bring it to the ground. She had the advantage of speed, but it had nothing to lose and the advantage of lower altitude: the bird reached a sheltering thicket first, and dove heedlessly in. Not inclined to the same degree of recklessness, the falcon backwinged just before the shrubbery and peeled off, scanning the air as she came back around. Of course, there was nothing lower than she except branches and earth; the fowl had dispersed up and out, seeking other, safer ponds for their respite. The peregrine had no chance at catching something already higher in the sky, leaving her to climb back up with only the intangible yet heavy burden of disappointment in her grasp.