It gnawed at her subconscious as she began to slip into sleep. She had become a Legendary in search of knowledge and knowledge she had found. Shadows and owlcat had been mastered; blessings could be given in her sleep at this point. And yet, she had not sought beyond that. Instead she had lost focus on her own studies – she had put her children’s (especially Spiderlily’s) education at the forefront then become entwined with Doom (who had vanished), even become reluctant mentor to a cowardly buck – in favor of… nothing. She murmured as the fear of regression, of stagnation rose to the forefront of her mind.
She sunk down, a tingle of sensation showering her limbs, into the owlcat. Ithertheir spine arched into a curve as the sunlit branch’s warmth was doused. The time for rest was over; day was sweeping down as night’s cold shadows crept upward. It was time to – a hiss curled in her throat, vibrated into a blossoming growl as the threat of danger pierced her mind. Something was coming; something wanted her.
She stiffened, indignant and haughty, as she tried to grow, tried to change into the mare. Instead the body of the owlcat remained and panic pricked into her understanding. She growled; how dare the Motherfather think it could determine her body, her spirit. A harsh yowl ripped from her lungs in admonishment and then the howls – onetwothree fourfivesix seven – came. Hounds.
She jumped, fur rising along her hackles, as three more longer and higher pitched bays joined the mob. The wolves had joined the hunt. She took one brief look behind her – the tree was too low to provide suitable protection – and wondered if her own dear companion was among the war party. Yellow, red, white orbs began to appear in the brush and she flattened in her body in a slow movement then pounced away.
Her paws smacked into the ground roughly and she darted forward. She ran, ran as her mind scrambled to come up with a strategy. An owlcat could not outrun seven hounds and three wolves. She wasn’t sure an owlcat could outrun even one; it may outsmart, outmaneuver, outclimb one mutt but even those… She cursed, a click of her beak, as she dashed beneath a bush riddled with brambles. She needed to be more than owlcat; she needed to change. And she could not simply melt into the shadows. Against kin and the small minded, it suited her well, but not against these dogs.
To her left a wide rampant stream rushed – she’d drown if the damn things didn’t sink their teeth into her neck – and she swerved left, claws digging into the rough bark of a mangrove. It was slow work to scale it’s trunk but once she was into the branches she had an easier time of it. She went up, up as close to the sky as she could manage before daring to look back. The frantic heartbeat in her chest froze as she was met with the stone cold bloodthirsty gaze of a wolf. It eyed her, merely a strong leap away, and she felt herself quaver – she hadn’t heard it. Nor any of the others that paced the ground. Faintness assaulted her head as blood resumed to throb in her ears. No. No. She was not going to be taken down by a mutt – a goddamn dog would not be her end.
She turned and ran along the branch. She breathed in strength and sheer determination. Then leaped – her paws stretched and her tail balanced – off and out. For a moment, she was weightless and then gravity wrapped her in its grasp and she plummeted. She screamed – the mare within her fought – out, cried for the Motherfather to not yet forsake her. She was not done; not yet ready to lie down dead. Please, Motherfather, please.
The ground was harsh reality and she groaned. The bones within her body shattered. Darkness pooled in her eyes, fog descended on her pain laden mind. And then there was only white noise.
It grew into whispers, into crickets chirping, into the growl of hounds and wolves. The pain eased as confusion remained. She felt the mending of bones, the growth of body and limbs. She felt renewed, refreshed, alive.
She gave a shake of her head, opened her eyes to find the mutts around her smaller than before. She clicked her beak then stood – felt the talons on her feet scratch into the dirt as the wings on her back snapped outward – to narrow her eyes in pure glee. She shrieked in warning as she began to flap her wings and rise into the air. Then in the blink of an eye she shot forward towards the wolf, the one who had stared her in the face and dared her to jump to her death. It was its time to die now.
She flew straight as a sparrow, threw her weight into the wolf and felt them tumble as one until she stood upon it the victor. She snapped her beak, watched the fear rise in blue eyes, then dug her talons through the thick coat of gray. The whimper and whine sung through her blood and she struck, let her beak slice into the wolf’s throat. The leader was dead and the rest would scatter. She would go after them later – for now, it was time to fly.
She stepped away from her kill, her fallen enemy, then jumped into the wind’s embrace. She felt laughter, joy, flood her chest as she flew through the tree line of the swamp. The journey was far from over; this was a new form to learn, to master. She let loose a shrill squawk of acceptance. The challenge would be met. She was a gryphon now.
