Adoption antics
Over the past few weeks Laird had come to the conclusion that he needed to actually do something productive with his life. While he had thus far mostly enjoyed his simple existence, with the occasional interruption of it by impudent youngsters, the falcon did not feel truly fulfilled in life despite all his basic needs being met. While he had long since given up dreams of being some sort of greatly adored aerial stunt star he did still desire to make an important impact in others' lives.
He'd thus decided to try guiding the young of his tribe, teaching them to be strong, crafty beasts that would do Fangroot proud. He tried to monitor the kits, pups and fledglings that already lived near him but most did not need his direct attention all the time. There were also several whom openly ignored him and those that he viewed as lost causes. Laird had come to the realization that if he was going to make a real difference he would need a younger or at least more dependent youngling to take under his wing so to speak and raise up in his image.
This had lead him to an orphanage in Mossflower where he now stared, slightly amused, up at a grey furred bat pup who swayed to and fro as she hung from the ceiling by one foot. Her large ears twitched from time to time as they spoke and every now and again she'd change which foot she clung with. Laird had never seen a bat that didn't use both feet to keep them stable before but then again he'd never been particularly close to any bats. Perhaps it was why he had not known when Switchfoot's mother had died elsewhere in Fangroot leaving two pups orphaned. Of course the fact that Laird didn't regularly travel all of the massive forest that was Fangroot could also explain the oversight.
So far during their meeting the Falcon had explained to the little bat who he was and what his intentions were. Now he was enduring an interrogation fiercer than the one he'd gotten earlier from the pale furred, but colorfully clothed, rabbit who ran this place.
"Is your house nice, nicer than this place?" Switchfoot asked as she used to hook on the tip of one wing to try and pick something out of an ear. The bat pup seemed not at all disturbed by the way this motion caused her to sway even more unsteadily back and forth and made no attempt to dock her free foot on the bit of twig the other gripped.
Scarlet eyes surveyed this area, part of the hollowed out stump that made up the orphanage. Unmade beds and worn toys from children not currently present were scattered about. Laird was impressed by the craftsmanship but he didn't think it compared well to his own home, then again he was biased.
"My home is large and rather unique looking," some did not care for the brightly coloured shoelaces that tied much of the other build materials of the woven nest home together but Laird had found them amusing as well as convenient and had incorporated them into the initial build and every necessary reworking since. Some of the strange bands of material even glowed at night which while making his home an obvious target also tended to scare off those who did not understand why eerie glowing strips of bright colours seemed to hang in mid air there.
"It will fit us both for now but would be made larger as you grew." He'd probably need to rip out an entire wall and build out from there. Extend the underlying support platform of course first and then build over it, maybe get some of those springy cord things and make a sort of hammock for Switchfoot to rest in. Yes, Laird could definitely do that and without need for too much help, just bartering for materials he couldn't gather himself. He was not a master builder like some but he considered himself rather good at it all things told.. Weaving came easy to him once he learned how to position his talons and beak right.
This parenting thing would be an easier challenge than he'd previously thought, Laird mused as he waited for a response from Switchfoot.
The bat girl licked at the gunk that she'd picked out of one ear and wrinkled her nose in disgust then flapped the wing vigorously to flick the offended blob off the tip and away from her. That done she fixed Laird with an intent stare. " You got rules?."
The raptor bobbed his head,quickly in response. " Yes, rules are important," he wouldn't be raising a little scamp that thought they could run wild and sass him like.. well like Baneberry. " Fair rules," he intoned, he was not a tyrant after all " but they have to be followed or there will be punishments."
"Punishments?" Switchfoot's eyes grew wide at that and she gave a little squeak and wrapped her wings tightly around herself, becoming practically hidden in the process.
Laird sighed mentally and tried to keep his feathers from ruffling, he had meant to be honest but not to scare the girl." No um dessert and bed before dar- um well bed before dawn for you." Bats could be up during the day he'd heard but he expected Switchfoot would likely be more traditionally nocturnal. Either way he'd find ways to punish the little bat fairly, if she chose to accept his offer to care for her.
The questioning continued for a while after that with Switchfoot asking all sorts of things about Laird's friends,how good of a flier he was, where were his ears! what he ate, did he promise to never eat a bat again and why did he ruffle his feathers all funny whenever he said the name Baneberry. Laird was unsure how some of the questions posed at him indicated anything about his ability to parent but he answered them the best he could nonetheless even the weird ones like why did he think worms came out after rain and how did caterpillars breathe in cocoons.
Eventually Laird asked the little dark furred bat if she was ready to talk with Zephra about him taking her back to Fangroot.
" Wait! Can I ask one more question, it's important," Switchfoot pleaded as she dropped from the ceiling and proceed to crawl intently across the floor towards Laird.
"Go ahead," Laird wondered just what there was left for the little bat to ask that might make her change her mind. He did not intend to question incorrectly though, he'd already grown far too attached to his potential fosterling, despite her need to know what the muck in her ears and between her toes tasted like, to be waylaid now.
"Can you promise not to die" there was hope mixed with pain in the little bat's dark blue eyes as she asked this one final thing of Laird.
"I promise," the words came easier and more confidently than they should have. Laird knew there were still creatures in Fangroot, never mind outsiders, that could kill him and they both knew the forest itself was deadly even to those who knew it well. Still, some part of the falcon, perhaps the part that so badly needed to feel like he a had a purpose, would not jeopardize this chance by being pessimistic. "No one lives forever but I promise to try," he amended his previous statement after a moment, still optimistic but hopefully Switchfoot would not hold it against him if his life was cut short by circumstances beyond their control.
Now resting at the raptor's sharp taloned feet Switchfoot was silent for a moment, the only sound in the room were tiny gasps for air as she caught her breath from that little crawling marathon. What she was thinking and what verdict she'd give was impossible to tell from just looking at the little bat. Then suddenly she gave a little squeak and launched herself at Laird's chest.
Startled, Laird extended his wings to keep his balance and clacked his beak in surprise at the unexpected... attack?
Clinging to the raptor's feathers as she once had to her late mother's stomach, Switchfoot asked one final mumbled question. "Can we go home now?"
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