Closed Close Encounters of the Kelvic Kind (Edric)

[Skerry]

9th-13th Winter 513AV

Iona was panicking. She needed to get out hunting, somewhere out into the Unforgiving but she couldn't get anyone to give her a lift. She'd checked with all the Endal but not of them had been willing or able to bring her out. So what if she was an Avora? Did that mean that she wasn't good enough to sully the saddles of the almighty Endal? Apparently. She could still hunt and just because she was a lower caste than them didn't mean that they had the right to think themselves better.

There was still one possibility that she hadn't tried though.

The young woman twisted a hand in her hair as she paused outside one of the Aeries. Inside she knew she'd find a Wind Eagle, an unbonded one. Unlike the other unbonded eagles this one was different; it was a Kelvic. One of the kinder Endal had suggested him to her, suggesting that although he'd be proud like the others, he just might be easier to reason with. Iona certainly hoped that he'd take her but she didn't know what sort of a situation to expect. She'd never talked to a bird that was also a man though she knew there were others of his kind, most of them bonded. It was certainly going to be weird.

Iona walked hesitantly to the entranceway, unsure if the Kelvic was even in there. Sure, he was supposed to live there but apparently he went about his day like everybody else in Wind Reach so be might be down in the kitchens (a bit late for that now) or the baths or somewhere. He walked around everyday looking normal like everybody else and perhaps she'd even seen him, not having any idea of his true nature. If he was in his Aerie though then chances were that he was in Wind Eagle form. While Iona was usually very forward, she was well aware that one wrong move could mean her losing her head or being down from the mountain so she needed to be careful.

"Hello?" the huntress called, her voice trembling as she took her first cautious steps into the Kelvic's Aerie. Her voice sounded too soft for her ears but surely the eagle/man would hear. She tried again, her voice louder now and more confident. "Hello? Edric? Are you in here?" Iona strained her ears, listening for any sound in the dark space.

I don't like this. I don't like this at all, she thought, gazing into blackness.

[Edric Wingard]

Wingard wasn’t quite sure why he enjoyed the dark.

Considering that upon initial introduction one usually emitted pleas for assistance or stuttered for its extinction all together, it could easily be said that his preference was anything but socially acceptable. In addition to its rather intimidating stature, which was after all the absence of light and colour respectively, the inky blackness had a habit of being known to house rather frightening things. Now, it wasn’t necessarily its fault, considering it did not choose what lived and thrived in its environment, but it would not be a stretch to assume that if the absence of everything could have had a personality, it’d most likely take enjoyment from the screams of others.

Cackling in his rapture form emitted a rather disturbing noise.

Anyways, although the aforementioned reasoning for disliking the dark may seem acceptable to most, the logic did not satisfy this particular eagle. Yes, yes, the dark was a scary place, but it was also filled with wonderment and mystery. A room, like his aerie for example, was hardly intimidating during the day when light emitted in through its entry. But at night, a room that was well-travelled and homey suddenly felt ominous merely because of impaired vision. For a race that relied so heavily on eyesight to be exposed to an environment that completely hindered it was utterly fascinating to Wingard. This blindness, although frightening, allowed one the opportunity to learn how to ‘see’ with their other senses. It was the perfect practical learning experience that many people would crave for any other education, and yet few seemed to take advantage of it.

By forgoing his sight, the eagle was able to focus all his attention on honing his sense of smell, taste, touch and hearing. Like a priest or spiritualist closing their eyes in order to meditate without distractions, Wingard felt like he was viewing the world from an objective point of view. Here in the darkness, he was without biased or prejudice; his perspective simple as it only focused on the facts rather than mysteries, because in the dark – nothing was certain beyond evidence. One’s eyes always had the potential to deceive, but not here; here, their lies went without an audience and for once, clarity ensued.

Yes, Wingard loved the darkness. Curled up under a blanket in the back of his aerie, the young eagle was happily preening his feathers as his thoughts continued to delve into the mysteries and wonder of his black home. For a moment he was simply at peace, enveloped in warmth and strong, philosophical musings that he felt he’d never come across outside of his own home. The Inarta were a wonderful people, but for those moments where he craved knowledge and some news about the world beyond their volcano and Northern Kalea, he wished they were not as ignorant as he. There was more knowledge than one could imagine beyond their barriers of contentment and Edric yearned to experience it, even if it was second-hand.

Letting out a sigh, the young eagle readied himself for an early perch before snapping his eyes wide open when he heard approaching footsteps. Cocking his head to the side in curiously, the rapture remained silent as the now distinguishable woman came into view. She crowded around the lit entrance, monopolizing the light there while plunging the rest of his aerie into darkness. Not moving, Wingard merely watched the unfamiliar creature’s movements, listening intently as she called out once again, inquiring after his presence. She seemed a little nervous, he thought, a mischievous glint overtaking his yellow eyes. Deciding to wear her nerves thin, he didn’t respond, allowing the darkness to edge around her peripherals as it was wont to do when one stared at it too long. Inwardly cackling, the animal silently wondered how long she would be willing to stay before she escaped down into the Warrens once again.

After all, Wingard was not one accustomed to visitors. This lack of frequency was his downfall, however, as it pushed him into making contact with this human, if only to question why she was here. Still deciding not to move, as that would utterly ruin the ambiance and mood he was attempting to establish, the young Kelvic connected to her telepathically.

’Hello,’ he started, his voice eerie as it seemed to echo within the confines of the girl’s head, ’Why are you bothering me?’

A claw dragged across stone, emitting a high-pitch keen.

[Skerry]

The huntress didn't know what to do. She was getting no reply from the dark so she was right to assume that the Kelvic wasn't in there or he was asleep. If he was asleep then it'd just be better to leave but if he was away then he'd have to come back sometime, right? If he returned though, tired and cranky and found her in his aerie, what would he do? The thought that she might get her head ripped off was a strong one and she shuddered even as she took another small step forward.

What are you doing? Iona wondered. He's not here!

The Avora didn't know. Maybe she just had to go into the dark and hope that her eyes adjusted to be certain that the Kelvic wasn't there. He was her last hope and she didn't want to give up so easily. But if he wasn't here then what could she do about it?

The young woman sighed softly, her head and shoulders slumping down in a posture of disappointment. She'd been so determined to get out into the Unforgiving in the hopes of actually catching something but not wasn't possible now. Maybe in a few days when she tried again someone would be willing to take her but until then she'd have to wander a little bit on the mountain and bring home nothing. Tears brimmed in her eyes and she was just about to the to go when the voice echoed in her mind.

The woman froze.

Iona hadn't had many opportunities to talk to Wind Eagles, even proper ones but she realised what was going on immediately. The sound that accompanied the voice, the sound that she could hear with her ears and not her mind, seemed a bad sign. She'd already pissed him off. Had he been there the entire time? He must have been for if he'd only just flown in she would have heard the beat of his wings. So he'd either been asleep or ignoring her. Iona didn't know which possibility she liked better, probably neither.

"Uh hello. Sorry if I'm bothered you, I just um..." the huntress trailed off, appalled by the weak and terrified sound of her own voice. Maybe he wanted to intimidate her for his own amusement or maybe not but either way she was going to sound vowed. Straightening her shoulders and raising her head high, the woman tried again, her voice stronger now despite the feeling of feat twisting in her stomach.

"I'm here because I wanted to ask you for something. A favour. I need a lift into the Unforgiving and I want to know if you'll bring me." Iona sounded disrespectful, she knew but she couldn't do anything about it now. She wouldn't scrape and bow to the raptor now, she had too much pride for that so she waited tensely for his answer, hoping that it wouldn't mean any harm to herself.

[Edric Wingard]

“Little chick, little chick, how knobby are your knees as they clatter together?”

Releasing an imposing shriek, the rapture beat his wings heavily; over-exaggerating the sound so that it echoed around his aerie, bouncing off of the walls as the acoustics heightened the high shrill to the point of ear-piercing. In an obvious attempt at intimidation, the young Kelvic utilized Ivora’s blindness and shuffled about, creating the illusion of his advancing form. It was important here, that he show his dominance in order to display rightfully, who was in a position of power.

Already, Wingard knew that it was himself. He understood well enough that he must have been a last resort for this huntress if she had come to him to hitch a ride. It was not an admittance that bothered him – it was merely a fact. The Kelvic recognized his pseudo syncretize when it came to social norms and the obvious flaws he had in regards to his ability to converse. In some ways, he found himself to be an embarrassment as a Wind Eagle, considering his unbound state, but he knew that often, good things worth having one had to wait for, so he continued on his merry way. Occasionally the youngster would feel the gnawing teeth of loneliness, but when it came to the majority of his other options – he rather preferred his own company.

This obviously led to the issue that he was now experiencing with this unfamiliar Avora. She did not know him – not that many could say otherwise – and it was because of this instability, the woman must have decided to take the aggressive front in their new acquaintance. It was admirable, sure, but incredibly stupid when it came to an unknown opponent. He was an enigma to her, thus she should have approached him with caution, observing his reactions before diving in headlong without a lifeboat. What made it even more pitiful in his eyes, was the evident false bravado she exuded. Beneath her rather rough and abrasive exterior, it was obvious that she feared him; her heart thumping so fast that it resembled a thundering thoroughbred merely hinted at it while her fear was so strong that even as she stood at his entry, he smelt it; the aroma seemingly permeating from her pores so utterly thick and unappealing that it threatened asphyxiation.

Thus, it was incredibly important to display to this huntress that he was not to be trifled with or that him consenting to her little request was him rescinding his obvious power in their situation. Reaching out once again to touch her mind, the eagle focused on slowing his approach so that it was no longer aggressive, but still evident as he spoke.

“Arrogance is not welcomed here, little thing,” he started, so close to the child now that the gold in his eyes seemed to glow before her, “I don’t appreciate questions without propriety. Do you think so little of yourself, Avora, that you have no name?”

Cackling eerily, the Wind Eagle leaned forward, the flickers of light reaching forward to encase his head in visibility. His beak was mere inches away from her face, this complete disregard of personal space an obvious tell that he was not intimidated by her false confidence.

”A favour, you know, also entails a reward. Tell me, little chick – what will you give me?”

[Skerry]

The shriek made Iona flinch but she tried, and failed, not to show fear. Her legs were trembling beneath her, too useless to allow her to turn and run away with her tail between her legs. She'd done it now. She should have had more sense but instead she had had to barrel into this situation. At this stage, she should really understand that she should try not to be the dominant one in certain situations, especially this one. He was going to make her pay for her insolence, wasn't he? He was trying to cow her and it was working.

The huntress didn't want to show what an effect he was having on her but when he came closer her body trembled against her wishes and when he brought his beak so close to hers, she flinched away, desperate to be away from that deadly weapon. She should have heeded the advice of the Endal who'd directed her here that he was just like any other eagle. Just because he was a Kelvic didn't mean that he was not a Wind Eagle at heart. Iona would never have treated an eagle like that but she hadn't thought of him as a true one. That had been her mistake.

Taking a step back, she managed to at least look in his direction. She only made brief eye contact, only looking up that far for ticks at a time. "I... I apologise," she replied, her voice coming out in a broken whisper. Her pseudo-confidence was gone, shattered in the face of the giant raptor. Chewing nervously on her lip, she managed to meet Edric's gold eyes and hold his gaze with difficulty. Eye contact seemed dangerous to her but she did it anyway for the sake of "propriety", seeing as it seemed to be important to the eagle. She was all for staying in one piece and if keeping him happy ensured that then of course she was going to do it.

"My name is Iona and I... apologise... for my rudeness," the Avora forced the words out with difficulty, the apology grating on her pride. "If you bring me then I will reward you in whatever way that I can but... I don't know what you'd want. I could give you some share of my kills I suppose. I wouldn't like to though," she replied, the last part coming out lower than the rest, said more to herself than to him. She didn't want to give him some of her kills, assuming she even caught anything. The huntress didn't want to take anything from the city but then if she didn't get out into the Unforgiving, she wouldn't bring in anything.

What else could she offer the Kelvic? Her brows pulled together in thought and for a few moments she forgot to be afraid. What could he possibly consider a reward? Well he is technically a man so... she thought but she shook her head at that thought. Normally such an idea wouldn't phase her, she often picked up men in the Inclement but that was different. What she was considering would be an insult to herself, degrading. She'd feel like some cheap whore (a free one) and that wasn't an option. At least not a preferable one but it would do as a last resort.

"If not that then what else could I give you?" she asked, her cheeks coloured by her prior thoughts. He probably couldn't tell that in the dark, after all she could only just make out his outline and see the light reflected in his eyes. His eyesight was better though but surely it wasn't that good? And it wasn't like he'd feel the heat coming from her cheeks...

[Edric Wingard]

At such close distance, the fear permeating from her was much worse. If he had been capable, the eagle would have wrinkled his nose in distain or shroud himself with a more pleasant aroma to escape hers. However, this was a game of intimidation, and one would simply be stupid if they backed down now. He watched keenly as her eyes widened, breath hitched, and fingers trembled. It was purely satisfying to witness her inner turmoil over disregarding her instinctual fear and exchanging it in for a backbone. It may have been false, sure, but it was certainly amusing to watch her struggle through it.

As she finally addressed him appropriately and even attempted to keep the eye contact he was downright forcing her to, it was a happy Kelvic that noted she could be trained easily. After so many greeting faux pas, the man was unsure if this little scrap could recover, but it seemed so. A gleam of triumph set into his eyes as she apologized, her voice soft and tight; reminding him of a mouse that had once gotten stuck in his throat when he was overzealous on consumption. It was a disgruntled win he received as she only gave in in order to save her hind, but Wingard really didn’t care. The point that he needed to be treated with respect was made, she had learned, and now they were actually going to get somewhere productively.

Her response to his inquiry was enough to make him preen his feathers in victory. If one could sport a Cheshire smile on their beak, than the Kelvic most certainly would have. Extra food in his aerie was always appealing; being in possession of such a vast frame made it necessary for him to feed often. It too, was obvious that this offer was not one that she found appealing, and that almost made the eagle inclined to agree. She was such an open book, he noted, that the sudden redness of her cheeks as she inquired about the possibility of other arrangements had his mind moving in an entirely disrespectful direction. It was obvious to him that it was not an appealing alternative to her, but seeing her evident displeasure and bashfulness over it, he could not help but take great pleasure torturing her.

”Silly thing, little chick. I do not want your petty hunting morsels. My palette is more refined. I will instead, require your first born child.”

Waiting to see the reaction on the woman’s face, the eagle stilled his movements. After a few moments of staring in order to receive a very detailed reaction to his words, Wingard cackled, the sound just as obscure and worrisome as it was the initial time he did it while he was contemplating the world enveloped in black. Gleefully turning around, the Kelvic made his way back into his aerie, transforming back into his human form so he could prep for their outing. Without turning around to address the little thing, Wingard began packing his bag, speaking over his shoulder all the while.

“Considering that I will be your ride there, I must assume you’d like one back as well. Are we going for a day, or am I dragging you around for fourty-eight bells like a distinguished pony?”

Picking up his discarded blanket the man folded it neatly, adding it to his growing bag, all the while naked as the day he was borne. Not really giving two shats over his state of undress, he pondered what the little blushing huntress was thinking as he continued moving about his home.

“An answer to the question would be lovely – here, you’re carrying this,” Having retrieved his Talon Sword and scabbard, the man had walked towards her as he spoke, thrusting his family heirloom hopefully into her flustered hands before turning around again to continue getting ready, “If you drop it or lose it, you will find a similar ending.”

Smiling roguishly as he delivered the threat, the eagle tucked his clothing into his pack. Ideally, he’d like to remain in his Wind Eagle form for the majority of the hunt, but Wingard knew only too well how plans could change and wanted to be ready for any event that they would potentially face. Otherwise, he’d be made a fool and being the village idiot out in the middle of winter was just asking for trouble – or hypothermia.

“I do hope you weren’t enough of an idiot to forget to bring your own things as well. I don’t fancy wandering through the Warrens because of your lack of preparation.”

Looking over his shoulder for a moment to finally make eye contact with the woman since he transformed, he impatiently waited for her to answer his questions. They had places to be.

[Skerry]

e
Iona was impatient for his answer. It seemed that he was willing to bring her, yes but it was for a price and so she needed to know what he wanted. His answer was the last one that she expected and her initial reaction was to gape silently at him, her mouth opening and shutting as it tried to form words that her brain hadn't told it yet. Her eyes were fixed on the bird in front of her as she tried to come to terms with the horrifying statement. The woman took a deep breath, ready to scream at the eagle in indignation but all that would come out was incoherent spluttering.

"You... you... horrible... how could you... ugh! Sick, you are..." If he had been a person, she would have slapped him but that wicked grin and that sinister chuckling made her refrain from losing her hand. The eagle turned away from her then, no longer willing to face her emotions. His shape became suddenly enveloped in swirling light before shrinking to a less slightly less imposing form. Even in his human form he was huge! He was much taller than she was but that wasn't hard, the Inarta were a race of small stature. He was very nearly a giant in her eyes.

He began to move around his aerie, gathering things and the huntress regarded him with a critical eye. If she'd come across him in the Inclement Weather, she definitely would have been eager to get his attention. His nudity wasn't doing her imagination any favours either, her eyes moving over his dim form in the poorly lit aerie. Staring was bad but he wasn't looking so where was the harm? Perhaps she should have made that offer after all, maybe she could have suffered such an affront to her pride. But he had to pull her from her musing by asking pesky questions. And turning around, that was a problem too.

"Um... yes, a ri- a lift back would be lovely." Iona was ready to kick herself for her thoughts. She took the item from him without any protest, biting her lip to stop any of her thoughts escaping without permission. It was particularly hard to do when he wanted her to speak. She was terrible for speaking her mind so what if it just slipped out. Well there were only so many possible reactions. Amusement, disdain, interest, anger so if it just slipped out.

Gods, will you focus!

"Oh... a day should be enough, I hope but... it depends on the game. I'll say a day and if I haven't caught anything by then, I won't keep you out. And I have my stuff, thank you. I'm not an idiot," she replied shortly, turning on her heel and marching from the aerie to collect her own bag and bow. The quiver was already secure at her hip so that didn't need to be carried. She strode back into the space, brandishing her belongings.

"Satisfied?" she asked. Her tone was sarcastic now, her fear of the Kelvic gone now that she saw him as an object of lust rather than a cranky eagle with a sharp beak.
e

[Edric Wingard]

He stared at her blankly as she seemed to flounder for words, her speech broken and stuttered. When the words she evidentially struggled to find finally made an appearance, Wingard silently wondered if the girl he was dealing with had a speaking impediment. Tilting his head sideways, he contemplated inquiring if she possessed one but figured that her poor ability to communicate would not be able to survive any further jabs, so he dismissed it immediately. The last thing he needed in the field was an illiterate teenager and the necessary translator he’d most likely have to bring along in order to communicate.

Watching as she snapped over his simple inquiry of the status of her equipment and stalked off to get it, the man muttered under his breath that the question of her idiocy was still well up in the air for debate. As she returned, proudly showcasing whatever it was that he was supposed to be impressed with and demanded rather sarcastically for his satisfaction, Wingard could only reply with a droll tone of his own and a deadpanned stare, “Utterly elated.”

Hoping to create an atmosphere of awkward tension, the man continued to hold eye contact, his gaze unwavering as he stared. At ticks, he studied her outward appearance, deducing that she was alright looking for an Inarta and that her stature was so small that he’d like to call her miniature. Peering down, as he now realized that was what was required of him in order to hold a staring contest with her, Wingard silently wondered what seemed to be swimming through this girl’s head. Already it seemed that she had adapted to his form and the initial intimidation factor he had held over her had dissipated. He questioned what had initiated Iona’s altered perception of him, recounting the events since their introduction efficiently through his mind. Predictably, he remembered her questioning about ‘other favours’ and his own sexual thoughts that had arisen from such a suggestion. Frowning inwardly, he then recounted his own nakedness and the blush that he was quite sure erupted onto her cheeks the moment he had turned in order to toss his family heirloom at her. Ah. Yes. His nudity must have done it.

Due to the fact that Wingard hardly conversed with people simply because he preferred avoiding idiocy and incompetence like one skirted around the plague, he often forgot the social norms of his people. Nudity was not a wildly accepted state of dress in Wind Reach and generally the scarcity of clothing below the waist was simply a taboo in public. Now mind you, he was in his own home, but she was a stranger and most likely unused to the sight of a man going about his business while buck-naked. For a moment the simple idea of ‘making her get used to it’ slipped through his mind, but he quickly discarded it; Wingard did not have the time nor the patience to court a woman for the shallow reason of using her. Chortling rather lightly to himself though, the Kelvic wrestled his bag closed tightly and efficiently slipped it over his neck while pondering potential ways to reinstate his dominance, because there was always time for that.

Once his pack was in place and he double-checked his possessions, the young eagle turned towards the huntress and began making his way over.

“If we leave now, we will be able to begin tracking before dusk,” he started, speaking directly to her, “Then we’ll pitch for the night and return to the hunt at dawn, unless of course, you fancy traipsing through the dark.”

Not bothering to wait for her answer, Wingard transformed back into his Eagle form, drawing close to Iona to enable her to slip onto his back, “You will be riding bare back as no one saddles me. If you yank callously on my feathers, you will suddenly gain a reason to fear heights. “

Waiting for the woman’s response to his warning, the Kelvic shook his wings out to stretch. Threats really weren’t the best way to instill loyalty and trust, but Wingard suspected that the only way to gain a positive reaction from his woman was to question her competency. Considering that that was such an easy task made the act of manipulating her all the more easier - which hopefully worked to both of their benefits. In her case, she got to showcase her skill as a hunter and supply the city with food, while he would be able to confidently state that he had been graced by the gods and given patience as neither of them were dead.

So without further ado, Wingard plummeted off the side of the cliff; it was time to fly.

[Skerry]

e
The look the Kelvic shot her made her feel three inches tall and the dry tone he used didn't help her feel any better. He'd wanted to know if she had her stuff with her and she'd shown him that she wasn't an idiot so why was he talking to her like that. The huntress rolled her eyes and threw her pack over her back, securing it in place before slipping her already strung bow over her shoulder. She frowned at the heirloom that Edric had given her rather than meet his gaze. Her gaze was better off focused on the sword anyway.

"What's a bird need a sword for?" she asked, drawing the blade slightly from the scabbard to examine it. "If the fancy took you, you could just rip everyone's heads off or slash them to bits with your talons. I imagine changing wouldn't be that hard to do but I wouldn't know." The woman shrugged and slipped the blade back into the scabbard before securing it at her free hip. The eagle had gotten bored of his attempted staring contest and had gone off to secure his bag around his neck. It looked comical but she supposed that it was the only way that he could carry it and she certainly couldn't take it, she was like a pack mule as it was.

She nodded in reply to his question. "Now sounds good and no, I don't fancy moving around in the dark. It's a hazard I'm willing to risk any time other time in the year but not winter. I quite like my neck intact," Iona explained as he transformed. The huntress frowned looking for a harness but not seeing one. The eagle's mental words chilled her blood.

"Oh goody. I always wanted to fall to my death and splatter on the mountain," she joked weakly. She giggled nervously then moaned softly before carefully clambering onto the eagle's back, a tricky task with nothing to hold onto. "I appreciate the warning all the same." A nervous squeak escaped her lips when he shook out his wings but she calmed herself quickly, carefully gripping the eagle with her legs and waiting for him to take off.

He moved without warning, throwing himself from the aerie with Iona shrieking from his back.

"Thanks so much for the warning! You're lucky you still have feathers," she screamed at him, being careful not to cling to his feathers for dear life.
e

[Edric Wingard]

As her screams echoed in his ears, Wingard was rather impressively by the level of octave her voice had reached in order to achieve such a shriek. It was so high that he was quite sure it soared above his shrillest shout to the point that glass would have shattered if it was unfortunate enough to be in close proximity. Thankfully though, it was only his ear drums which received punishment, so no poor glassmaker would be in tears today. Cackling wildly as they plummeted, the Wing Eagle spread his wings triumphantly as he caught a swiftly moving thermal that threw him into his mother’s rather chilly embrace; it must be that time of the month.

Shrieking his own delight at a successful take off, the Kelvic focused solely on dipping about and dancing to celebrate the skies before remembering that the girl on his back really was susceptible to falling. Considering that he was not in the right temperament for murder, Wingard eased up on the motions, settling into a smooth flight upon choppy airs. She seemed to be yelling at him, he finally noted, her grip on his feathers tight but not painful. Turning his head slightly to make sure that she seemed to be in one piece, the eagle responded blithely to her comment, “I figured the five ticks it took me to reach the edge would have been enough of an inclination to such a highly trained warrior, such as yourself. I apologize for my assumption.”

Eyes gleaming with humour, the eagle once again turned his focus to the skies, a twisted feeling seeming to settle in his stomach. Maneuvering through the open winds was more difficult than usual, Wingard finding himself flapping his wings in order to battle the chilled gusts of air that battered against his thick frame. Considering it was winter, the cool skies were not a heavy concern for him as it was an inevitable occurrence, but it was the sudden bursts of frigid air that seemed to consistently knock him off course that were beginning to worry him. It was ruthless in its onslaught, battering against his body in an undistributed manner which caused him to randomly dip precariously when he was not ready for it. The eagle hissed his annoyance out loud, realizing that this cold front may be hinting at the possibility of a storm ahead of them.

”Hold on tightly, Huntress, the winds are unfavourable.”

Fighting against the resistance, he beat his wings heavily, overcoming the aggressive winds in order to redirect them back towards the Unforgiving. They were nearly upon it, so the Wind Eagle pushed out the extra effort in order to get them to their destination quickly. When they landed, he figured it would be the better time to analyze their potential situation and make a decision about their hunting trip. Preferably, the Kelvic would have thought about the pros and cons in the air, however, with the wind so heavy he was too busy concentrating on not losing the Avora on his back to offer a small part of contemplation for their next problem.

Spotting a prime location to land, Wingard quickly took off towards it, slowing his speed only when he was ready to touch down. As his claws hit the snow, he immediately drew a shoulder close enough to the ground to deposit his parcel gently onto the ground. Once completed, he ruffled his feathers and squawked his agitation over a ruined flight.

“The winds smell of storms, Avora. I cannot tell the severity of it, but I believe it may be best to continue our hunt from within the cover of forestry rather than the open skies. She is not sweet-tempered this bell.”

Wingard was not happy over this development. The angered skies spoke of a troubled night ahead, but he also knew of the turbulence within their city as well. The people of Wind Reach were growing restless; their hungry overcoming their normal instincts like those of animals. This was what worried the Kelvic. Being one with the creatures made him privy to the knowledge of what animals resort to in order to sate their hunger, and it was nothing less than in-fighting. Desperation bred poor judgment and Wingard had already spotted the rabid look of hunger in his people’s eyes. Ill-feelings twisted their sweet dagger into his gut, and he knew that without a doubt that bad things were upon them.

The timing of the storm was just another bad omen to the Kelvic. The hunt was their only resource in alleviating the tension within the walls of their volcano. For the storm to set upon them while they were in the midst of such an activity only struck another cord of worry in him. Coincidences were hardly ever accidental, and just like this moment, he felt like it was a planned omen to illustrate worse days in the foreseen future. Frowning, Wingard regarded his companion, knowing that just like him; she understood that they sincerely needed this hunt so it all came down to one question:

Was it worth the risk?