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Ruelash was about to turn back and go home with what he'd found in the trappers traps. He wasn't likely to be properly paid for that- people seemed to think he had to 'pay off his debt to society' or whatever for his brother's death. You know, like that was his fault or something. He didn't particularly care about money though, or any other sort of payment. Being outdoors and alone was enough... excepting the aldabuck, obviously. As he passed by the sailscale nest again, he felt his stomach murmur in a sort of offhand way. He was hungry, and it could wait, but Sailscale eggs were delicious and didn't he owe it to himself to give it one more try? For an omlette, maybe, with some of the meat he was taking back, and a few sprouts and tubers? The thought made his mouth water. He was a meat person, but omlettes... those were good, a rare sort of treat for him that he told nobody about, and that nobody knew he liked... aside from Veshki, of course, who had shown him how to make it. But Veshki had taken that weak little secret to his grave. Only Ruelash knew the guilty pleasure he felt at the combination of warm soft egg and filling, and the more he thought about it, the more he wanted it.
He set about to climbing the wall again. It was as easy as before, his hands moving with practiced ease along the rocky face, his swords sheathed to prevent damage or injury. He reached the nest, his face breaking into a wide grin as he saw the eggs, still there, still tantalizingly close at hand.

Direk heard the shrieking before Ruelash did. She looked up at the hazy yellow Sauti sky and, if she could have smirked, she would have done so at the two angry, wheeling shapes above. She flicked her ear and snorted, pawing at the ground. It was as if she was hoping that her earthling would fall again. She wanted more than that, though. she wanted the stupid classless peabrain to fall and suffer for all the indignities she had to put up with. Between the horrid tundra and these horrid mountains and that disgustingly average pen and his awful hair, she was sick of the ugly creature. She mooed up, engaging in some jeering, though it was beneath her station.

Ruelash looked down as his Aldabuck mooed at him for some reason.
"Ah shaddup!" he snapped back, not exactly angry. What, did she want him to come down and brush her? Did she have a stone in her hoof? Well she could wait until he had found his dinner.
Suddenly, something hit him like a stone to the back of his head. He gripped the cliff face for dear life as sharp teeth and claws, like needles, dug into his scalp. He tried to use one hand to flail them away, but to no avail- his arm too became afflicted with needle-pointed pain.
"Auuugh!" he snarled, reaching out for an egg, only to feel a nasty bite on his hand. "Geddoff me!" he yelled, reaching for his sword, trying to protect his eyes with the wall of the cliff itself, but in his haste he fell, hitting the ground with a thud that hurt his lower back. He swiped at the angry shapes with his sword, driving them back to their perch where they glared at him again. He stood up, feeling a multitude of little scrapes and scratches and marks announce their collective pain throughout his body.
It was official: he now hated sailscales.