Skark's Return
The sun had long since set by the time he'd even reached the borders of the eastern forests, where his home was located. It had taken Skark a day and a half to return to the edges of the dark tangle of Fangroot, only having stopped once for a short sleep the night of his escape. It had been an uneasy one, so stricken with paranoia that he'd hardly wanted to stop at all. He hated the feeling, likening it to a sort of cowardice, and over what? Some crazed sect of squirrels who liked to capture live prey and burn them at the stake before devouring the remains. His disgust still overpowered his curiosity over the matter, and he hadn't wanted to take any unnecessary chances. He was just one bird, after all.
The shrike had woken before sunrise to continue his journey, winging through the forests until he finally found home, a small bundle of furry prey held in his claws as he alighted upon the thick, barren thorn branch that served as his doorstep. He had captured her some distance outside Mossflower, a squirrel who had made the mistake of wandering too far away from her mother. Skark, famished and never hesitating to pass up such an opportunity, had pounced at once upon the youngling, crippling and killing her with a swift bite to the back of her little neck. It was a far more merciful death than what he granted most, but he was hungry, and in no condition to toy around in unfamiliar territory.
Using his beak, and one foot, Skark skewered the body upon the large, darkly stained thorn near the entry way to his home, an obvious favorite due to its sturdiness, and left it there to deal with after he'd checked his house. He snipped the bushy tail off of the carcass and carried it inside, a feeling of comfort and familiarity surging through his mind as he surveyed his home. It was the same as it had been before he had left, with his belongings all in the places he remembered, the surfaces even a little dusty after sitting for so long untouched. He quickly hopped over to his nestside and dug out a small wooden box, letting the tail drop to the floor as he sat to open the tiny container.
The little chest was scratched up, battered, and fitted with a tiny unlocked hinge, which Skark undid gingerly before opening the lid. The relief that washed over him was just as strong as the light that was doing the same, as the lid creaked open. Skark's eyes softened as he looked upon his treasure, reminiscing, the blue glow illuminating his face and the soft white feathers on his chest. After a moment, he took it by the leather strap by which it was bound, and dipped his head through the loop so that it settled once more around his neck. It was a miracle that he had decided not to take it with him on that journey, and it made him sick to think of losing it.
He picked up the squirrel tail again, and tossed it onto a pile of fur and tails in one of the corners. The interior of the house was practically lined with skins, clumsily preserved, but useful to the bird all the same. But his mind wasn't on his furs, or even the semi-fresh kill that was hanging outside on his doorstep. He stepped up to rest on his bed, peering out into the dark forest, awash here and there in silvery streams of moonlight that managed to filter down.
His mind was on those squirrels, and more importantly, his mother. Could something similar have happened to her? What if they had taken her in the night, during one of her forays out into unfamiliar lands? She might not have been as lucky as he had. Skark considered himself disgustingly lucky to have freed himself from such a messy situation. The thought of Marellis caught in the grubby paws of the same beasts caused his claws to dig into his nest, and he quivered for a moment, his eyes burning hatefully. Why, if he had any way of knowing for sure...he would go back and end each and every last one of them, no matter the time it took. But, there was no evidence for such convictions, no real reason to go back, unless he fancied to seek his own revenge. Later, perhaps...but no time soon. His wings ached horribly, and a good long rest was in order.
His late-caught dinner would have to be breakfast, Skark thought, as he inhaled in a deep yawn, tucking down snugly into his nest. Despite all that had happened, it was good to be back home, and he fell asleep quickly, awash in the gentle blue glow of his mother's pendant.
