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Open: Now!
End: January 6th 10pm central time

As winter came to Ha’lia, with it brought snow to the usually Warm climate of the Island, a sight that hadn’t happened for several hundred years. The Chill clung to the air, the snow crunching under white paws as A lone female Wyvern runs through it, every panting breath coming from her labored efforts to carry away her cargo. Wyverns weren’t made for moving for so long on their hind legs only.

But despite her best efforts, her prize is lost: Two, frost colored eggs of a different breed of Sandpainter then her own.



- All Entries should be on one post - may edit as long as the contest is running
-This contest is completly free.
- You may enter for both the wyvern and for the eggs, but you can only win one.
- If you win, you have to keep them: However, entering for the eggs you may give one away to a friend.
-Do not have someone else write this for you.

The eggs have been lost, and now someone needs to find them before they freeze solid in the snow. Who finds them: Is it a companion or another painter? How did they find them? Why did you have to give one up?

PROMT A
Your username: phantompanther13
Name you would give the painter: Vixen
Prompt response:


She tucked the eggs tight in her wings and ran. The Coyote Spirits would be after her soon. She could hear them on her heals. She jumped a ravine careful to keep her balance. The eggs where hers. Soon she would be out of range, able to do as she willed and she would feast tonight.

The snow froze off most of the game. Though it suited her long white fur, it was also a curse, driving her to this. But she was brave, and their kind hated her already. Getting rid of a few at this age would save her kind more trouble later. Even if they were innocent now.

She shook of the thought and increased her speed, witch was hard. Her kind was not built to run like this, they were for the air. She wished she had been able to eat them on the spot, like she intended. But mother hand woken from her attack sooner then she hoped.

A flash of dark came form a side, one of the Chupacabra a nasty creature at best. She smelled it before she got a good look. She dropped the eggs and turned to fight, her teeth snapping. She splayed her wings dodging underneath as it came at her. It clipped her shoulder but she dug her teeth deep into its side and tossed it against a tree. It started to get up, but she moved picking the eggs up again and taking off, fast on her feet. The blood from her shoulder trickled down her fur staining it slowly red. It wasn’t enough to leave much more then a small scar but she had to take care of it before it festered and she knew it. In this cold she couldn’t afford to get an infection. It would kill her faster then hunger would.

She would have to hide them and come back. Loose the ones on her tail and come back when she was taken care of. Perhaps they would already be dead by then. It would make them easier to eat; she didn’t really want to kill them with her own teeth.

Briefly the though of raising them flashed though her mind, but she shook it off. She couldn’t, being alone and in this scarcer food climate she couldn’t. Not that raising one of their race would work they would notice quickly the differences. She shook off the thought and checked for her pursuers. A howl arose too far away to be a threat, at the moment. She saw a small crevice in a near by hill, big enough to hide the eggs, but not her self. She raced toward it and set the eggs in there just out of sight. She didn’t take the time to double check the eggs, instead she raced off to lead the familiars away.


PROMT B
Your username: phantompanther13
Who would you give the Second egg to?: xroseintherainx
Prompt response:




She ran off playing in the snow. She didn’t know it was unusual to the content beneath her feet. She was born to it, her name even was after it. Frosty. It was with the first early frost that she was born and that was the name she took. Her friend had fallen asleep and Frosty wandered away in the snow, mind still going, unable to get her long body to sleep.

She pranced along her white wings spread and she spotted something ahead. It was a rabbit, white like the snow. It thought it was camouflaged in it, sniffing the air. Frosty realized she was down wind and hunched down, dropping her nose behinds a rock, to allow her white to conceal her. Her feathers ruffled in excitement as she imagined the rabbit’s soft warm flesh and her teeth sinking into it. She watched it hop along the snow leaving foot prints in its wake. It disappeared behind a tree and she got tense, wondering if she lost the rabbit. A white fleck trickled out from behind a tree and then the whole rabbit, farther away. Using the tree for cover she stalked the rabbit and watched it pause in the middle of the clearing. The snow crunched quietly beneath her feet as she slowly got closer. All of the sudden a twig snapped under her foot and the rabbit looked up, ears twitching. She flinched as it looked at her and made eye contact. Something was there in its eyes, a strange connection. She felt a tingle go down her spine all the way to the tip of her tail. And then it turned to run.

She lunged after the rabbit panting. She didn’t want it to get away. Her stomach growled in response. Her feet burned as she ran after it as is dodged through the low trees. She ducked he head under a branch that nearly clocked her in the face. She dodges another tree and up ahead, the rabbit disappeared. She slowed to a stop, looking for the long foot prints in the snow.

Her wings twitched as she looks and then spots them. She walks over to get a closer look. She followed them to where they seemed to vanish. Her wings fall and she looks up, standing on her hind feet, looking for a burrow or something for the rabbit to hide in. With her attention looking for the rabbit she did not hear the first crack. But she did hear the second. As she drops to her front feet and the ground gives out from under her.

In a mess of white wings and snow she feel, tumbling down a bank. She falls into a creek, breaking the ice that concealed the noise. Her feathers get wet and she shivers. Righting her self she shakes the water off as best she can. Her scarf came untied but thankfully did not get wet however, her hat fell during the tumble and she started looking around. For a moment she forgot all about the rabbit. She climbed up on the bank of the small creek and looked up the embankment. Some snow fell on her cold head and she shook it off. She didn’t see her hat along the avalanche she created when she fell. She walked over and started to dig through the snow, looking for her hat, when she strangely heard the clatter of beads.

Frosty’s head popped up as she identified the sound. Tilting her head she heard it again and followed the sound down stream. It was then that she spotted, not only the white rabbit, but something even more puzzling. Two white speckled eggs, each with their own set of beads. The rabbit was climbing over the eggs, but paused, spotting her. It then took off up the embankment.

She let it go. Instead she walked over to the eggs. Examining them, and wondering why they were all alone in this creek. A light layer of snow had started to fall on one and she dusted it off with her paw. The egg wiggled and she jumped and then put her ear to the egg, listening to the small movements within. It was still alive.

She looked up and around wondering where the mother was. She saw nothing to suggest there was a cave near by. She frowned and then checked the other egg. Inside was reassuring soft movements. Seeing they were on the soft snow she pulled off her scarf and shivered in the cold air. She carefully wrapped the scarf around them. Giving another quick look around she spotted her hat, witch was by her tail. She used the appendage to lift the hat and gently put it on her head again.

She looked again at the eggs. “There is no way they will survive out here alone.” She mused to herself. “Maybe Aurora will know what to do with these two.”

Frosty tied her scarf around her neck and the eggs close to her body. She smiles at the feeling of them and her warm body warming the eggs like they desperately needed. She folded her wings and started the climb up the bank on three legs, her fourth holding the eggs close.

PROMT B Prompt B: The eggs
Your username: Cricket2008
Who would you give the Second egg to?: To someone who doesn't have a painter (not counting the SS premades).
Prompt response:

The black wyvern soared above, keeping an eye on the slow progress of the wyvern on the ground. His dark hide made him nearly invisible in the night sky. Just as her white fur nearly camouflaged her against the snow-covered ground. She was unusual for a wyvern. He couldn’t recall ever seeing one with fur. If the circumstances were different, he would be following her for a much different reason. Smiling to himself, he imagined they would make a fine pair.

A gust of wind brought his mind back to his task at hand. A task that he disliked, but had no choice in. He glanced at the horizon. He would have to make his move soon. When the moon rises, she’ll soon notice that she’s being followed.

He circled lower when she stumbled and didn’t rise. He watched, wishing he could help her, but if he didn’t come back with the eggs, it would be the death of him. He spiraled down to land near her. The white wvyern’s motionless body lay slumped over the eggs. Now that he could see how even more beautiful she was up close, he hoped he would be successful in accomplishing this without bloodshed. The idea of slashing that lovely white hide with his black claws suddenly disagreed with him. He nudged her wing with his nose. The musky scent of her over-worked muscles assailed his senses. She didn’t move. Deep in his heart, he knew this was wrong, but it was his life or the eggs. He quickly reached under her to grasp one egg in his mouth and pull it free. Laying it in the snow, he soon freed the second egg. She started to move and he heard her moan. With one egg still held in his teeth, he grasped the first egg with a claw and made a clumsy one-legged leap to the air. Behind him he could hear the female wyvern’s painful scream at the discovery of her loss. Too weak to follow him, he could hear her wailing as he left her behind.

The white painter’s mournful cry had touched his heart and he needed to find a way to make himself feel better for what he had done. He altered his course and looked for signs of habitation. A bright fire caught his eye. Circling lower, he saw several huts and humans gathered around a large bon fire. He made a decision without weighing the consequences. He knew if he thought about it too much, he might choose the safer path and not the right path. He flew low over the humans, scattering them. He relaxed his claws and dropped a pale egg into a pile of snow near the fire. With a downbeat of his wings, he rose back into the night sky. Glancing back, he could see the curiosity of the humans get the better of them as they warily went to see what the painter had dropped. The black wyvern returned to his original course, satisfied that at least one egg had found a safe haven.

***

The snow-covered clearing sparkled under the now-risen moon. Soft flickering lights and smells of brewing concoctions emanated from the nearby stone temple, abandoned long ago by those who built it. The black wyvern back winged to land as gently as he could, trying not to dislodge the pale colored egg gripped in his teeth. Once on the ground he slowly walked towards the ivy-covered structure. This was not going to go well, he thought to himself. He hoped he would make it out alive.

A large shadow appeared in the doorway of the temple. The black wyvern stopped in his tracks. His blood felt as cold as the snow under his feet. A dark purple common painter stepped out of the temple entrance.

“If you drop that egg, it will be the last thing you ever do,” she snarled at him.

The black wyvern carefully covered the distance between him and the dark painter. The moonlight danced off her oddly-shaped scars making them glow in an unnatural way. He lowered his head to place the egg in her waiting front paws. Her claws closed protectively around the glistening egg.

“You are mine,” she said in an almost loving voice. “When I first heard of the arrival of these special eggs, I had not dared to believe my plan would come to this.” She looked up at the black wyvern. “Where is the other?”

The wyvern stood quiet. His wings, held out for balance, were still, but his wing claws flexed in nervousness.

“Well?” she asked again, her voice showing none of the tenderness it had a moment ago.

“I… I don’t have it.” He shuffled his feet, wondering if he were to attempt to take flight, if he would make it. Surely she would rather stay with the egg than come after him, he thought.

“Where is it?” she hissed at him.

“I.. I..” What would she do to him if he said he’d lost it? He dared not imagine the consequences. “I hid it,” he said in a rush. “I couldn’t carry both of them safely, so I hid the other.”

“Then why are you still here? Go get it!” she snapped at him.

The black wyvern wheeled and took to the air without a backwards glance.

“And don’t come back without it,” she yelled after him. She turned back to the egg in her grasp. A dark stained claw toyed at the beaded chain wrapped around the shell. With a softer tone, she crooned, “You are safe with me little one.” Turning back to the temple entrance, she walked back into the darkness. “Such a summoning we shall do.”

PROMT B
Your username biggrin eadly Nonchalance
Who would you give the Second egg to?:Monday Revolution
Prompt response:

Holiday and Hanukkah were bouncing through the snow playing tag when Holiday slipped a little hidden bit of ice and disappeared under the snow.

"Hey, Holiday where did you go," Hanukkah asked running up to the spot where Holiday disappeared.

"Under here," a muffled voice replied before jumping out of the snow and surprising Hanukkah. "There is a really neat ice cave down there," she said grinning.

"oh really," Hanukkah said sceptically. He was the more responsible of the two of them.

"Oh hey look at that," Holiday said bouncing off after a mouse scurrying through the snow.

The mouse sensing Holiday behind her started moving faster. Holiday was laughing as she bounded after the mouse leaving Hanukkah behind talking to herself. Hanukkah had a tendency to start lecturing and then forget anyone was there. Holiday giggled as she gained ground on the little mouse.

Hanukkah had finished her lecture to realize that Holiday was nowhere in sight. "oh great where did she go now," Hanukkah said to himself. Taking to the air with steady beats of his wings. He saw Holiday chasing something on the ground and headed for her. He landed a couple feet in front of Holiday.

Holiday skidded to a halt but hit another patch of ice and barreled into Hanukkah. They tumbled for about three feet then skidded to a halt. "Geez Hanukkah get in my way," Holiday said laughing totally forgetting about the mouse.

"well if you didn't have the attention span of a rat," Hanukkah said starting to lecture Holiday again. "You act like a little kid. Maybe you should be more responsible," Hanukkah started.

"Oh great not again," Holiday said looking around. She saw two lumps in the snow "Oo what are those she said bounding over to them. "HEY HANUKKAH," Holiday called.

"What have you got now?" Hanukkah asked with a sigh. Holiday had a tendency of collecting things that weren't hers. Hanukkah glided over to holiday to see two Eggs on the ground. "Where did you find these?" Hanukkah asked thinking Holiday had stolen them.

"Right here," She said looking at them. "they look cold, we should get them back to the Ice cave. It'll be warmer than out here with us there," she said picking up one carefully.

Hanukkah was amazed that Holiday was actually acting responsibly for once. " yes that's a good idea," Hanukkah said picking up the other one.

"let's fly it'll be faster," Holiday said flapping her smaller than normal wings and lifting off the ground. She watched Hanukkah carefully to make sure she didn't drop it. Then when Hanukkah was off the ground she flew to the small ice cave and slid inside.

Hanukkah followed by the time he got inside Holiday had already carved out two small nests close together and had put the egg he had in it.

"I'll go find some branches and leaves you stay and keep them warm," Holiday said hurrying out of the cave and flying away.


Hanukkah set his egg down in the second hole then curled around them waiting for Holiday to return.

~*~*~

Holiday returned with a bunch of branches and leaves. She landed and started making a nest.

Hanukkah looked at her. " you know we can't keep both of them," he said looking at her.

"Yeah i guess," Holiday said looking sad. "We can give the other one to Poinsettia," She said smiling and added " The I can still see it."

[I am so sorry that this is so obnoxiously long. It mutated! I was originally going to do both prompts and do the Wyvern's half as well, the fact that she was supposed to be trafficking the eggs but ended up trying to keep them and her side of the chase...but I just can't write anymore! gonk Either way, I hope whoever reads it enjoys it. I wanted to tell a story, so here it is.)

PROMT B
Your username: Dimitri Obsidian
Who would you give the Second egg to?: Tuatha De
Prompt response:

He was not built for this. He could have handled the hunger that was twisting his stomach into all sorts of knots. He could have handled the snowstorm billowing just outside of the small outcrop he was tucked into. What he could not handle was the cold cutting through his skin and nestling in the marrow of his bones and the violent shivering that came as a result. He wasn’t exactly alone: curled up beside him beneath the overhang of the cliff he was roosting in was his ever-constant companion and partner in crime, a rust-colored coyote spirit. But this sleek, all muscled and barely any furred creature was hardly biologically compatible with this sort of weather. To say he was miserable was an understatement.

“Rey,” he said with a shudder, nudging the shoulder blade of the coyote beside him. The canine opened an eyelid, glancing up at the Aviadracus beside him. “Rey, we should head out.” He glanced out into the storm. It seemed to have calmed down significantly; he could see the faint outlines of nearby trees, which was an improvement from an hour or so ago. He would’ve liked to wait out the storm entirely, but the day was ending shortly and the temperature was only going to dip further. They needed to find a cave where the wind wouldn’t be buffeting them from both sides, where they didn’t run the risk of being buried alive.

So with a yawn and a stretch that his stiff joints were more than thankful for, Pyrodigy got to his feet.

Hugging the walls of cliffs to avoid the sharper gusts of wind, the duo pawed along. As always, he was careful to pick less treacherous terrain that both he and Rey could easily navigate. If they could find a deep enough cave, they’d be sheltered from the storm. With luck, they’d run into an amiable creature who had a few bones to spare. At least, that was the plan. It seemed as though luck was against them; all of the caves Pyrodigy could make out were several feet up. Straight up. There was no way Reynard could climb that, and he would not abandon his companion.

“Rey, come on,” Pyrodigy hissed over his shoulder. The hunger had gotten to even the coyote after an hour of trekking, and he was stopping every few yards to sniff at the snow, hoping to find a quick morsel. That didn’t bother Pyrodigy; after all, if Reynard found something, he (usually) shared it with his master. What irked him slightly was the fact that the coyote had stopped dead in his tracks and was excitedly nosing and digging in the snow. Pyrodigy groaned as he turned around to meet the canine.

“Whatever it is, Rey, it’s not worth it.” he urged, shuddering as a sharp wind picked up. The coyote whined in protest, all but shoving his face into the snow. Pyrodigy frowned, and was moving to pull the coyote along by the silk scarf tied around his neck when he suddenly stopped. Reynard pulled his head up out of the snow, and clenched between his teeth was the knotted end of a pouch. Barely in the pouch, covered with snow, was a single egg.

“How did you end up way out here, little guy?” Pyrodigy took the egg, placing a paw on it. The shell itself was cold, but there was a faint warmth radiating from inside. Whatever was inside the egg was still alive. The pelt and the snow must’ve kept it insulated, but much longer and it would have frozen solid. Poor thing must’ve been lost or abandoned. He opened his mouth to congratulate Rey on his find, but stopped. When he raised his head, the coyote was a few feet away, dragging another pouch out from beneath the snow.

"TWO of them?” They hadn’t disturbed a nest; Pyrodigy was certain of that. The eggs were too far apart, and they were wrapped up like someone intended to travel with them. They’d been lost. He picked the pouch up like a mother carrying her hatchling. Now, finding shelter was more than just a pressing urgency; it was a matter of life or death. “Come o…,” he started to call out to Reynard as he sniffed around for more eggs, freezing mid-sentence. The coyote pricked his ears and stared at his master, who was not staring back at him. He was looking over the coyote’s head, and for a second, he was frozen.

“Reynard…run.” His tone was an urgent hiss. The coyote glanced backward long enough to see the Wyvern quickly descending towards them. She’d come out of nowhere, and had Pyrodigy not looked up, he would have never seen her. Her white hide all but camoflauged with the snowy landscape. The snow itself, of course, was still coming, but it had eased to a flurry. That must’ve been why she was able to fly in the first place. With a screech that rang in the ears of both the canine and the reptile, she descended.

She went for the closest target first: the coyote who was already weaving down the steep cliffside, a few feet beyond Pyrodigy. He watched as she made a snap towards Reynard and he nimbly dodged away, despite the egg pouch he was still holding in his mouth. Letting out another screech, one of frustration and anger, she moved away from the cliffside, trying to keep pace with the coyote but avoiding the trees that threatened to rip her delicate wing membranes. Pyrodigy tried to get a full layout of the situation. They weren’t far from the ground; he could see it stretch out beneath them. Far beneath them. If the eggs fell, they’d break. If Reynard fell, he’d die. A hundred or so feet from where Reynard was currently evading another attack from the Wyvern, Pyrodigy spied another outcrop, much like the one they had been hiding in a few hours ago. This one looked deeper, however, and after squinting he realized that it was a cave. It was big enough for the Wyvern to fit in if she was determined enough – which she clearly was – but it was their only chance. And even if it was a bit haphazard, Pyrodigy had a plan.

He gently put the egg and its pouch between his paws, opened his mouth, and screeched.

It wasn’t a noise he’d ever made before, and he was startled at how effective it was. Both Wyvern and coyote tilted their ears back to him. Reynard’s look of utter confusion was clear even from the distance the coyote had managed to put between himself and his master. Pyrodigy shook his head and nodded to the wall. His intent was to say something, but there wasn’t enough time: not with a Wyvern coming at him and looking hellbent on murder. He hastily picked up the egg, glanced down to the spot where Reynard had been only moments before (and suddenly was not, in the typical manner Pyrodigy had gotten used to) and then ran.

Like any of his species, he was skilled at navigating cliff-sides and mountain-sides. That didn’t mean that he could navigate them quickly enough to evade anything chasing him, especially when it was something chasing him on the wing. She yelled something at him he couldn’t hear, fighting against the snow and wind to keep up with him. Pyrodigy knew his saving grace was hugging the cliff as close as he could, and he did. She could keep up with him, but she couldn’t attack him as efficiently as she liked. That didn’t stop her from attacking him. He avoided most of them, but she got him once with a quick n** on his hind leg and again on his flank. He only laughed, weaving like a ribbon around boulders and plants clinging to the vertical walls.

He was almost at small hole that he knew – well, hoped – led into the same cave system that he had seen earlier when a sudden gust of wind stung his eyes. That was his single mistake. In that instant, he stopped moving long enough for the Wyvern to grab him by the neck. Suddenly, he was airborne.

“Give me the egg,” the Wyvern hissed. Pyrodigy glanced down at the ground beneath him quickly moving away, then squinted when he saw something move beneath him. The corners of his maw curved up into a grin.

“It isn’t yours to take.”

With that, he opened his maw. The egg and its pouch plummeted away from the two Painters. The Wyvern craned her neck around to watch the precious package careen towards the ground…and let Pyrodigy go.

~*~

Reynard came out of a side entrance of the small cave system he had slipped into when the Wyvern turned her back on him. He blinked into the daylight just in time to see the Wyvern above his head…and his Painter dangling from her maw. How dare she! He would’ve liked to show her. He circled beneath them, anxious and concerned for his Painter’s safety. What if the egg fell? What if Pyro fell? Neither seemed like a very good outcome…

So it figured that both happened.

He watched as the egg came whistling down, briefly riding on a particularly strong gust of wind before falling roughly into a snow drift. He only realized that Pyro had been dropped when he saw the Wyvern come diving down to grab the egg for herself. He had faith in his companion, though; he was certain he had landed safely somewhere. Diving into the drift, he came out with the egg – still intact – and only narrowly missed a mouthful of teeth. He pinned his ears at her screech, glanced back at her, then slipped with ease through the mountain’s wall.

More concerned with the welfare of his Painter than the welfare of the egg, Reynard sniffed around only briefly before depositing the egg in a small cavern. It smelled freshly of some Painter that could not have been far removed, and not of the Wyvern that had chased him. It was a either a P’an Lun or a Chi’lin; he wouldn’t entirely tell. Still, he surmised that it would be just as good a surrogate parent as any. After digging an impromptu nest for the egg, knowing both eggs were safe, he left to go sniff down his Pyrodigy.

~*~

It was very, very cold. He realized that before he even opened his eyes. His leg hurt. He realized that before he opened his eyes, too. When he did finally let his eyelids lift, he saw the familiar rust-colored fur before he saw anything else. He raised his head, looking at the coyote curled up beside him. His smile was faint, but amused. Reynard lifted his head and glanced back at his master, then let out a small yip of glee. Pyrodigy’s grin got a bit larger. He couldn’t have asked for a better companion.

Broken leg and all, Pyrodigy followed Reynard as the coyote led him to a nearby cave. He had fallen and tumbled down the cliffside some three hundred feet, and it was pure luck that he had only gotten a rough bump on a head and a fractured leg. They weaved through and up a narrow series of tunnels before they came to a cavern, far enough into the mountain that there was no wind. And tucked in a corner, slightly buried in dirt, was an egg.

“Where’s the other?” Pyrodigy’s brow knit in concern. He could have sworn what he saw beneath him was the coyote. Was it something else? Reynard’s expression was one that his master made fairly frequently. Looking almost incredulous, he made a huffing sound at his master and rolled his eyes.

“Don’t start with me.” Pyrodigy wrapped himself around the remaining egg. So Reynard had caught the other egg. What had stopped him from bringing it? He certainly hoped he hadn’t eaten it…but that wasn’t like his freind. He must’ve taken it somewhere safe. “Don’t be offended. I was just making sure.” He rested his head on the ground and sighed. He certainly hadn't planned to be nesting an egg anytime soon...but he was resigned about it, and potentially even excited.

"I feel like a mother hen," he grumbled as he made certain the egg was snug and secure.

He swore that the low barking sound the coyote spirit made in response was a laugh.

((Sorry its long. I wanted to make it longer but held back. XD ))
PROMT B
Your username: Miroke
Who would you give the Second egg to?: Whomever gets second place. I really want the other person to care about the plot.
Prompt response:

"My God is it cold out! Ay Furrete? Our weather right!"

Swazi smiles at Furette, his dour companion.

”Yes”

He says to his overly cheerful master.

Swazi unfurls his oddly bright pink tongue and sticks it out. He manages to catch a few flakes that seem to melt in the heat radiating from him turning to rain, still Swazi smiles and runs, head down, toward a snow bank. Right before hitting it, he gives himself a little liftoff so he hits the top of the bank shearing it off with a wondrous poof of snow that sparkles in the sun light as it flutters to the ground.

Swazi on the other hand crash lands askew into a surprise second snow bank behind the first. His plan was to come back in as the snow flutters down like an awesome snow king, or at least he likes to think so.
Furette waddles over

"What did I tell you about these adventures? Bad business, I said."

"Well no need to see if I'm ok or anything, just go ahead and say I told you so for a couple hours. I'll feel a lot better then."

"No need for sarcasm."

He harrumphs and repeats the obligatory sentence with malice

"Are you ok?"

"WELLLL, since you asked, NO! I think this thing has ice chunks in it, I have a bruise and something is digging into my side."

"Well then just sit and let it hurt you more, what a great idea. Lets not move away from the pain or anything, that would to much sense anyways."

Swazi frowns and pouts at Furette’s hurtful comment

"Sometimes I think you don't like me Furrete."

Furette heaves a sigh the rattles in his deep chest.

"If I didn't have a inkling of care I wouldn't be here, now come on, up and out of there!"

Swazi gives a big smile and salutes

"AYE AYE CAPTAIN!!!"

Swazi then lifts his wings and starts a slow flap that still manages to flutter all the snow around him. Then he pushes with all four limbs before his body wiggles out of his indent and he takes off gracefully and lands near Furette.

"Well that was exciting"

"It’s about to get a lot more."

Furette simply replies as he pears into Swazi's massive indent.

"Well? What is it? What is the damned object that dare to pierce my mighty hide and all that?"

"An egg"

Furette replies as he gingerly digs out around the egg and then wiggles it free as the snow squeaks in protest from around it. He quickly places the ostrich egg sized egg on the snow outside the hole and dives back in.

"And this is the damned object it self."

Furette pulls out a beaded necklace with a dazzling diamond shaped crystal on the end. The sun blasts through the crystal creating a prism that lands squarely on Swazi's stunned face.

"What? I mean, it can't, I SQUISSHED IT! I mean."

Swazi sputters in shock as he carefully, step by step crawls toward the 'offensive object.'

"OH, and there’s more. A second necklace!"

Furette reports from inside the hole. His paw raises up with indeed a second necklace.

"Wow, I mean wow... Do you think those crystals would sell well?"

"SWAZI! We have to take care of these precious gifts now. God has delivered them into our care."

Swazi raises his eyebrows

"Fine, though I didn't know you were religious."

"You never asked."

Swazi laughs

"What a cop out answer!!!"

"SWAZI!, the egg?"

"What about it?"

Furette gives a low growl in warning to Swazi's antics, as he crawls out of the hole.

"Fine, fine friend. Though I do have a question for you, why two necklaces?"

Swazi says one of his few intelligent sentences ever as he sits around the egg and the carefully picks up the egg and puts it in his lap.

"Well one for each egg of course."

Swazi and Furette's eyes get big.

"DIG FURRETE DIGGG!!!!!"

Furette gives a flying leap into the hole.

"On it!"

All Swazi can see is ploofs of snow flying out of the hole before being caught by the wind and falling back in the hole.

'This would be funny if it wasn't so serious.'

Swazi thinks as he brushes the snow off his egg.

Time flies by as Swazi starts panicking

'Why won't the snow come off this damn egg!?!? Oh,.. its part of the pattern. I knew that.'

Swazi has his internal conversation as Furrete exclaims

"I FOUND IT! But its .. ernng nrrg .. stuck"

"I'll help, just give me a second."

Swazi places the egg on the ground near by.

"Stay"

He orders and then flies over the hole. He starts slow descent until he can gingerly grasp the egg with his hands.

"My god! This thing is freezing! That can't be good, Furette"

"Shut up and pull."

Swazi slowly flaps his wings faster pushing the wind into the well-worn hole blasting it up around with residue snow that hadn’t yet been flattened to the side, creating a circular wall of snow around Swazi as he lifts off. Then the egg finally pops out and Swazi goes flying. He gains his 'feet' so to say and misses a tree as he zooms back to the other egg, and Furette.

"What do we do now?"

"Well, I don't know. But I am really worried for that other egg. It is too cold."

"Well you keep that one warm, and I will try for this one."


Furette nods and they set to it. They try many ways to maximize heat including, yes, sitting on it.

"Furette, it isn't working! What do we do?"

"Well it is snowing out now. I think we can't do anything for it."

Swazi looks down at the chilly round ball. The beautiful lightly snowing pattern revealing a brightly robin eggs blue color. It shines as Swazi cradles it next to his body with his wings around him to keep the heat in.

"I.. don't want to."

"Too bad, you will kill it if you keep it."

Furette quickly replies expecting this.

Swazi just looks down at it.

"Who will take it then? We don't know anyone that would."

"We find a home and leave it."

"WHAT? No, it will freeze waiting!!"

Furette sighs

"Fine we'll find it something to sit in."

Swazi pouts

"I don't want to. It will die"

"Do you want it to die, or have at least a chance of living? If you really care for it, don't kill it."

“.. .. fine”

“Good now go, give the egg a life.”

Swazi doesn’t reply just takes off in a cloud of snow leaving grooves in the ground in a rare show of violence.

Furette watches as he takes off in strangely gentle, and long, wing strides. Seeming to glide along with the moon in a majestic lunar dance, as the snow flits to the ground becoming one with its brethren in the bank. Furette contemplates ‘I hope we made the right choice.’

He pushes the thought from his head and cuddles the new addition to his chest.

PROMPT B
Your username: Tuatha De
Who would you give the Second egg to?: Dimitri Obsidian
Prompt response:
Ashelinn had a particular soft spot for snow. Not in that ridiculous “winter wonderland” way – if you valued things solely based on aesthetic appeal, she'd always thought, you ended up being one of those soft and foolish creatures who mooned over the beauty of dew on flowers, or some other poetic rubbish. And on a purely practical level, the inhospitable weather did make it more difficult to hunt, fly, and survive in general...

But fresh-fallen snow told stories. For a few precious hours, it held everything you'd want to know about every creature who'd passed that way.

She skimmed low over the snow, hovering slowly – it was a careful balance, just high enough that the gentle breeze of her passage didn't disturb the fresh tracks, but low enough that she could see every detail. Her familiar, a rockhopper griffin, perched on her back, just between her shoulders; normally, she'd let Jack follow along at his own pace, but she had the strange urge not to leave any trace that either of them had been there. She'd been following the set of wyvern tracks for some distance now. They obviously belonged to a wyvern: from the shape of the feet and the pattern of the gait, it could only be one of the two-legged Painters. The creature had been dragging something, which obscured the tracks slightly, but whatever it was she was dragging wasn't all that heavy, and enough traces remained that Ashelinn could make some educated guesses. Adult female, probably, from the size and the depth to which they'd sunk into the snow. And she was in a hurry – the strides were surprisingly long, and every now and then when the path narrowed between crags of ice, she saw small marks in the ice where the wyvern had scraped her wings in her hurry.

Ashelinn banked into the wind, speeding up instinctively as the pace of the tracks below her sped up as well. The wyvern had rounded a bend and took her chances racing down a steep and treacherous slope, and Ashelinn found her own heartbeat beginning to race in sympathy. Then... another set of tracks, these very different. A combination of clawed feet and the distinctive patches of cleared snow that indicated where a winged Painter had taken off or landed – Ashelinn had to pause for a moment to sort out the tracks, her own sinuous body looping in gentle spirals as she held her position in the air. The two sets of tracks collided, and both ended – whatever this wyvern had been dragging, Ashelinn guessed, the other Painter wanted it. Badly. Enough to fight.

She dared to drop a little lower, muzzle a scant few inches above crimson-stained snow where blood had been spilled, along with... white fur? Well, that was strange. She would have guessed ice bear, or perhaps even albino coyote or something similar, but the fur smelled like wyvern. How odd. Wyverns didn't have fur. A little farther, the shredded remains of... what was it? She guessed it was what the wyvern had been dragging – some clumsily constructed contraption of tanned hide and soft straw. It looked like it had been built hastily to carry something very fragile, without the benefit of dexterous foreclaws like her own. Ashelinn took a moment to preen, quite glad that she was a P'an-lun – it must be so awkward, not having any foreclaws, or having to rely on wings to fly. Jack's gentle chirr of reminder, however, snapped her back to the present.

The snow at the site of the confrontation was torn up beyond recognition, in several places exposing gouges in the frozen ground beneath as claws had scrabbled for purchase in the icy landscape. She could discern nothing about the fight in the blood-spattered, tangled chaos of claw marks and the outlines of desperate maneuvers. But there were no tracks leading away, and no bodies... So both Painters must have left. The wyvern, Ashelinn guessed, must have been forced to abandon her prize, and the other Painter had claimed it in triumph from the wreckage of the carrying sling.

...But then, what was that faint glint coming from the bottom of the hill?

It was the sun sparkling off a piece of jewelry, lovingly wrapped around an egg. Ashelinn froze in midair, very nearly falling into the snow in shock. An egg! And now that she was so close, Ashelinn could see another nearby, very nearly invisible with their pale shells against the white snow, the tracks of their roll down the hill camouflaged by the drifts and valleys whipped up by the wind of two winged creatures battling. Suddenly, the fight made sense – the other Painter must have been the mother, driven into a frenzy of rage by the theft of her eggs. But then why had she left it behind?

Ashelinn turned to go, anxious not to be nearby in case the mother returned. Jack squawked in protest from her back, attempting to leap down into the snow, and Ashelinn only just managed to snag him in her foreclaws before he succeeded. “You little idiot – you want to leave our scent all over the place? I'd rather not have a furious, grieving mother tracking me all the way back to the temple, thanks.”

Jack shot her an annoyed, defiant glare. For all his silence, the little griffin was startlingly intelligent and expressive. Ashelinn shook her head. “...Besides, if they left here, they must be already dead, right? Frozen in the snow. They fell out of the sling during the fight, the end.” To prove it, she lightly pressed two clawed fingers against one egg's surface. “See? Cold. No way they'd survive, in weather like this...”

The egg moved.

With a stifled noise of shock, Ashelinn jerked back, wary gaze on the eggs. She abruptly turned to go. If they were still alive, let their mother come back to claim them. It wasn't her responsibility, she was too young to look after chicks. Especially chicks that weren't hers, weren't even the same species, belonged to some mother who'd carelessly let them be stolen by a wyvern, even if she took them they could still die from exposure... She was, in every way, not the right girl to find them. Fate had made a mistake today, that was obvious. She didn't get farther than a meter or two before she slammed into guilt as thick and tangible as a brick wall.

It was, she mused reluctantly, a little bit marvelous that she'd happened to come across the eggs before they froze, and that she'd spotted them, pale as they were against the white snow. Not tremendously miraculous, perhaps, stranger things had happened... but just marvelous enough to matter.

Scooping up one egg awkwardly in each arm, Ashelinn cradled them close to her body, letting as much warmth as she could revive the chicks inside. Jack, now chirping in satisfaction, cuddled in between the two, his small fluffy body providing additional help. Scavenging what usable pieces remained of the wyvern's improvised sling, Ashelinn managed to make something she could fly with, without running the risk of dropping the eggs. She didn't have to take them herself, after all – she could bring them back to the nearest temple. There were older, wiser P'an-luns there who would be able to give them good homes.

She paused, hovering several meters above the scene, wondering. For once, the snow hadn't answered all of her questions – who did these eggs belong to? Where was the mother now? What about the wyvern thief? Why had that wyvern female been so desperate, so mad as to steal eggs and bring down such wrath upon herself?

There was no time to look for more answers. The two eggs nestled against her chest, they needed to get out of the cold, and quickly. Ashelinn turned away, leaving the silent snowy landscape behind for the clouds and mountains of her home.