TISK
41st Day of Winter in 515 AV
The sun has now fallen, darkness reigns...
Who will die tonight?
Tisk smirked at her own thought as she pumped her wings against the strong southern wind. Her blood-colored eyes scanned the night-stricken territory beneath, oblivious of the bat-like predator flying just out of sight. How easy it was to swoop down, grab your prey, and slit its throat while it dangled helplessly in your grasp. Tisk's smiled at the memories of the frantic shrieks and gurgled cries of humans and animals killed in such a manner.
Tisk didn't kill like that anymore. Too easy.
Tonight's hunt would hopefully present a challenge though. Tisk was currently scouting the region north of the Itrod River for a small band of Glassbeaks to hunt. The tribe's hunters grew tiresome of consuming the weak flesh that the swamps of Kenash produce. They hungered for hardy, savory meat that came from strong animals. And Tisk was never one to refuse a challenge.
The night camouflaged her completely as she rotated her wings slightly to catch a breeze hugging closer to the earth. The southern wind brought with it scents of the Itrod River, vegetative decay, and...prey. A wicked smile laced with a hint of madness crept over her beautifully sharp features as she whipped her wings into a focused speed.
Tisk was currently alone in the Sea of Grass, with her twin Screech and other tribe members miles from her. The majority of the clan was still camped while the usual hunting party had paired up to grab exotic game for the night's meal. However, Tisk had declared to go alone, despite the half snarls of the Elders and hunters. Before snarls came to blows, Tisk left and sought her own game, her own kill. Screech was her usual hunting partner but Tisk wanted to scratch and maim something with a deep desire, and it would have been her twin if even one claw drew up against her.
Tisk inhaled deeply, the scent of dirty feathers and wildness unique to Glassbeaks. She tilted her wings and slim body, propelling herself further up into the atmosphere. At this height, she was out of sight from the colorfully feathered birds that would serve as a meal this night. She scanned the grasslands just north of the Itrod River, her eyes zeroing in on what her nose and ears have guided her towards. There...
There, nestled south of the Itrod River about 500 yards from a grove of trees that formed a line along the shores of the river, was the flock.
Tisk circled high, spotting three strong females with a larger male among the flock. The group was nestled in one of the rare low areas of the Sea of Grass, attempting to shield as much as they could from the strong southern wind. Hunkered down in the taller grasses, they would have been hidden were it not for the Zith's molten gaze on them.
Tisk swung back toward the north, lowering her altitude gradually as she left the flock behind her. She had seen the grasses quake with the anticipation of a gust of wind from the south and prepared herself for a direction change. She used the wind to propel her back past the grove winter-stripped trees, anticipating the southern gust. As she heard the wind blast across the dirty feathers of the Glassbeaks, she made a hard turn with her powerful wings, pushing herself to go faster against the gust as it reached her. Tisk was able to mask the sound her speedy approach with the wind as the Glassbeaks paid more attention to standing strong against the blast rather than their surroundings.
As the wind settled, Tisk let her wings catch the breeze that played straight through the grove of trees by the river. She steadied her wings, fanning them out to slow her pace and direct herself towards the base of the largest tree in the grove, a tree so stripped of foliage and color it seemed lifeless.
Being that her wingspan was nearly 15 feet, it took little time for the leathery skin to catch the breeze enough to halt. Tisk aimed her body for the base of the tree, allowing just enough tilt in her wings to land without so much as a twig breaking. She avoided landing in trees unless absolutely necessary; the sound and sight of rustling limbs will almost always alert prey, not to mention the tree was so damaged by the winter season it was close to breaking. And while the wind was blowing enough that the Glassbeaks might not have noticed a collapsing tree, she wasn't going to take the chance.
Tisk's clawed feet dug into the shrub-covered earth of the Sea of Grass, the loose dirt from the river banks allowing her talons to sink in. She drew her wings into a tight formation on her backside as she remained in a post-landing crouch. Her lean muscles were taut beneath the skin-like layer of red brown fur that covered her petite form. She tilted her chin upwards, catching the scents on the wind more easily now that she was grounded. Since the breeze was blowing strongly in her face, all she smelt was the Glassbeaks unique smell that overpowered the other pale scents of dying vegetation. Unfortunately, the wind was prohibiting her from clearly smelling and identifying anything that ahead of her.
Tisk stayed crouched, breathing in shallowly until she was satisfied enough with her surroundings to ease her slight frame out of its taunt stance. She took unhurried strides toward the largest tree amongst this grove, letting her talons ease the vibrations of her steps. Tisk examined the area in which she had landed, surveying for any weaknesses. The winter season had chased away the foliage that was easier to hide within and caused several tree to wilt and die along the banks of the river. The largest tree, which she had wanted to scoff at due to its size, had obviously beaten out the surrounding trees for nutrition. Heaps of broke branches and gray bark lay lifeless along this particular stretch of river, making a nice little barricade against the cool wind and keen senses of the Glassbeaks. While she hated the site of the weakening tree, she had to admire its will to survive.
Tisk approached the frostbitten tree and dug a clawed hand into the dying tissue of the wood. She didn't want to risk the sound of her powerful wings fighting against the worsening wind gusts and alerting the flock, so she opted to climb the tree for a quick peek at the fierce birds. Gingerly, Tisk eased her way up the tree, letting her talons slowly sink in the flesh before climbing further up. She did this with grace and precision, conscious of all the placements of her talons. Tisk crept easily up the ragged tree, keeping what few sounds she made undetectable to the flightless flock.
Hooking her talons deep in to the tree, she carefully peeked around a limb and gazed far into the distance. At approximately four wing-beats (six if this wind did not ease up), the Glassbeaks were still hunkered down in a low area without a clue as to who stalked them. A feral grin pranced across her exotic features as Tisk's bloody gaze zeroed in on the male. He was large, even by Glassbeak standards, feathers painted with a shimmering golden hue. The plumage that graced the majority of his torso and back were the same gold with streaks of chocolate brown highlighting those features. He was magnificent. Tisk wanted to taste his flesh with a feverous desire.
Tisk let a wicked smirk slide across her face at the thought of taking the male for herself. But...while she could survive to claim the golden male's flesh for her own, the wind might disturb her flying enough for one of the females to grab her.
Tisk gritted her teeth as the impulsive desire to strike now, kill now danced inside, begging to be released. But she kept her fangs from snapping in frustration as the more animalistic side of her subsided.
Tisk ran quick glances over the females, all average sized and dirt-colored compared to their mate's brilliant plummage. Satisfied that the Glassbeaks were unaware of her presence and unwilling to move in this wind, she decided that she would simply have to wait to attack the group once the wind died to a manageable level.
Tisk began the careful, precise descent down to earth. She dismounted from the tree's embrace smoothly and shimmied her way until she found a spot amongst the broken branches to crouch down comfortably. Balancing on her talons, Tisk eased her back against the large tree, cocooned by the dead branches around her. Through the branches, she could still see the low spot in which the Glassbeaks were huddled in. Luckily, the low area was still shallow enough that Tisk would easily see the raised heads of the Glassbeaks if they attempted to move.
Tisk kept her gaze focused on the Glassbeaks as she settled in for a long wait for the breeze to dissipate.
Tisk didn't kill like that anymore. Too easy.
Tonight's hunt would hopefully present a challenge though. Tisk was currently scouting the region north of the Itrod River for a small band of Glassbeaks to hunt. The tribe's hunters grew tiresome of consuming the weak flesh that the swamps of Kenash produce. They hungered for hardy, savory meat that came from strong animals. And Tisk was never one to refuse a challenge.
The night camouflaged her completely as she rotated her wings slightly to catch a breeze hugging closer to the earth. The southern wind brought with it scents of the Itrod River, vegetative decay, and...prey. A wicked smile laced with a hint of madness crept over her beautifully sharp features as she whipped her wings into a focused speed.
Tisk was currently alone in the Sea of Grass, with her twin Screech and other tribe members miles from her. The majority of the clan was still camped while the usual hunting party had paired up to grab exotic game for the night's meal. However, Tisk had declared to go alone, despite the half snarls of the Elders and hunters. Before snarls came to blows, Tisk left and sought her own game, her own kill. Screech was her usual hunting partner but Tisk wanted to scratch and maim something with a deep desire, and it would have been her twin if even one claw drew up against her.
Tisk inhaled deeply, the scent of dirty feathers and wildness unique to Glassbeaks. She tilted her wings and slim body, propelling herself further up into the atmosphere. At this height, she was out of sight from the colorfully feathered birds that would serve as a meal this night. She scanned the grasslands just north of the Itrod River, her eyes zeroing in on what her nose and ears have guided her towards. There...
There, nestled south of the Itrod River about 500 yards from a grove of trees that formed a line along the shores of the river, was the flock.
Tisk circled high, spotting three strong females with a larger male among the flock. The group was nestled in one of the rare low areas of the Sea of Grass, attempting to shield as much as they could from the strong southern wind. Hunkered down in the taller grasses, they would have been hidden were it not for the Zith's molten gaze on them.
Tisk swung back toward the north, lowering her altitude gradually as she left the flock behind her. She had seen the grasses quake with the anticipation of a gust of wind from the south and prepared herself for a direction change. She used the wind to propel her back past the grove winter-stripped trees, anticipating the southern gust. As she heard the wind blast across the dirty feathers of the Glassbeaks, she made a hard turn with her powerful wings, pushing herself to go faster against the gust as it reached her. Tisk was able to mask the sound her speedy approach with the wind as the Glassbeaks paid more attention to standing strong against the blast rather than their surroundings.
As the wind settled, Tisk let her wings catch the breeze that played straight through the grove of trees by the river. She steadied her wings, fanning them out to slow her pace and direct herself towards the base of the largest tree in the grove, a tree so stripped of foliage and color it seemed lifeless.
Being that her wingspan was nearly 15 feet, it took little time for the leathery skin to catch the breeze enough to halt. Tisk aimed her body for the base of the tree, allowing just enough tilt in her wings to land without so much as a twig breaking. She avoided landing in trees unless absolutely necessary; the sound and sight of rustling limbs will almost always alert prey, not to mention the tree was so damaged by the winter season it was close to breaking. And while the wind was blowing enough that the Glassbeaks might not have noticed a collapsing tree, she wasn't going to take the chance.
Tisk's clawed feet dug into the shrub-covered earth of the Sea of Grass, the loose dirt from the river banks allowing her talons to sink in. She drew her wings into a tight formation on her backside as she remained in a post-landing crouch. Her lean muscles were taut beneath the skin-like layer of red brown fur that covered her petite form. She tilted her chin upwards, catching the scents on the wind more easily now that she was grounded. Since the breeze was blowing strongly in her face, all she smelt was the Glassbeaks unique smell that overpowered the other pale scents of dying vegetation. Unfortunately, the wind was prohibiting her from clearly smelling and identifying anything that ahead of her.
Tisk stayed crouched, breathing in shallowly until she was satisfied enough with her surroundings to ease her slight frame out of its taunt stance. She took unhurried strides toward the largest tree amongst this grove, letting her talons ease the vibrations of her steps. Tisk examined the area in which she had landed, surveying for any weaknesses. The winter season had chased away the foliage that was easier to hide within and caused several tree to wilt and die along the banks of the river. The largest tree, which she had wanted to scoff at due to its size, had obviously beaten out the surrounding trees for nutrition. Heaps of broke branches and gray bark lay lifeless along this particular stretch of river, making a nice little barricade against the cool wind and keen senses of the Glassbeaks. While she hated the site of the weakening tree, she had to admire its will to survive.
Tisk approached the frostbitten tree and dug a clawed hand into the dying tissue of the wood. She didn't want to risk the sound of her powerful wings fighting against the worsening wind gusts and alerting the flock, so she opted to climb the tree for a quick peek at the fierce birds. Gingerly, Tisk eased her way up the tree, letting her talons slowly sink in the flesh before climbing further up. She did this with grace and precision, conscious of all the placements of her talons. Tisk crept easily up the ragged tree, keeping what few sounds she made undetectable to the flightless flock.
Hooking her talons deep in to the tree, she carefully peeked around a limb and gazed far into the distance. At approximately four wing-beats (six if this wind did not ease up), the Glassbeaks were still hunkered down in a low area without a clue as to who stalked them. A feral grin pranced across her exotic features as Tisk's bloody gaze zeroed in on the male. He was large, even by Glassbeak standards, feathers painted with a shimmering golden hue. The plumage that graced the majority of his torso and back were the same gold with streaks of chocolate brown highlighting those features. He was magnificent. Tisk wanted to taste his flesh with a feverous desire.
Tisk let a wicked smirk slide across her face at the thought of taking the male for herself. But...while she could survive to claim the golden male's flesh for her own, the wind might disturb her flying enough for one of the females to grab her.
Tisk gritted her teeth as the impulsive desire to strike now, kill now danced inside, begging to be released. But she kept her fangs from snapping in frustration as the more animalistic side of her subsided.
Tisk ran quick glances over the females, all average sized and dirt-colored compared to their mate's brilliant plummage. Satisfied that the Glassbeaks were unaware of her presence and unwilling to move in this wind, she decided that she would simply have to wait to attack the group once the wind died to a manageable level.
Tisk began the careful, precise descent down to earth. She dismounted from the tree's embrace smoothly and shimmied her way until she found a spot amongst the broken branches to crouch down comfortably. Balancing on her talons, Tisk eased her back against the large tree, cocooned by the dead branches around her. Through the branches, she could still see the low spot in which the Glassbeaks were huddled in. Luckily, the low area was still shallow enough that Tisk would easily see the raised heads of the Glassbeaks if they attempted to move.
Tisk kept her gaze focused on the Glassbeaks as she settled in for a long wait for the breeze to dissipate.
