by .Survivor. » Tue Nov 15, 2016 1:53 am
Username: .Survivor.
Name: Tawny
Sex: male
Pronoun: He/him
Story:
Shadows dance across the forest as they seem to come alive with the dusky, sinking, dying sun as it fell slowly, oh so slowly behind the mountain range that surrounded this patch of paradise. As the invisible miestro named Time raises his ghostly baton, signaling the night chorus to appear in their places, a small, almost unnoticable cue is waived. The crickets begin their chirping, followed by a crescendo of fireflies dancing to a tango of their own minds as tree frogs croak out the bass line in the trees. Loons and owls sing their haunting song as bats begin to flutter from within their caves.
A silent stirring of feathers, fur and claws as a majestic beast awakens to the night. Golden, almost glowing eyes reflect the last shred of sunlit rays as he fully awakens. Massive wings move silently as he turns and shifts on his perch, tail swaying slightly to the beat of the Nocturne which was called life. The ancient dragon-like owl let out his own, mournful call as he remembered that he was alone. His parents killed, unmercifully as they made sure that he lived on. He knew he was still young, barely a flier at that, but that cruel being called fate had thrown his young life into disarray. A grumbling snapped him from his memories and scolding of the unfair being as he finished preening his flight feathers for the hunt. He had missed the day as he would have usually hunted with the light, but he had flown as hard as he could during the fleeting hours of the night, away from fate, away from his dying parents, away from everything he knew. He had finally settled here, a unknown, but safe place and rested through the day.
The great tawny beast stretched out his wings, testing them in the cooling air as he gave a single flap and raised his body in the air. He was still young. He knew this as he scanned the forest, looking for prey. He needed to eat. His sharp, golden eyes looked this way and that as he patrolled his new territory. His keen hearing caught the faintest trace of the sound a rabbit makes as it hops through the leaf barren ground, late for its mistress at its burrow but lagging because it knew it would get scolded for coming home after sunset. The rabbit meagered along from Bush to bush, so confident in its keen hearing and sense of smell to alert it to danger, that it had become a bit too bold as he stopped at a berry Bush for a late night snack.
The wind in His favor, The great beast locked onto the rabbit and watched every move until he saw a chance. The rabbits guard was down and he took it. Silence was what one heard as the wind glided between the tawny feathers and sharp talons as the great bird glided down, long tail balancing the outstretched claws as The sharp, life taking talons met their intended target with nothing more than a slight crunch as they gave the rabbit a quick death.
The bird knew there was no match for him here in strength as The biggest things here were rabbits. He knew. He was safe. And as the Nocturne of life rang in the trees, and the fireflies continued to dance their silent tango, the young bird feasted on his catch, a trophy defying fate. His first hunt had gone smoothly and without harm to him. He could make it. He would live another day. He would defy that monster called Fate.
*note*
A nocturne (from the French which meant nocturnal, from Latin nocturnus) is usually a musical composition that is inspired by, or evocative of, the night.
Last edited by
.Survivor. on Tue Nov 15, 2016 4:12 am, edited 6 times in total.
no one understands what Post Traumatic Stress Disorder is. Unless you have it yourself.
