A story by Dappled Despair
Long ago our sky's were full of Sharp-Talons(Hawks) and Death-from-above's(Eagles), our lands more dry and no trees to cover us or our young. The land was full of only bush and sage and hard rocks. Scattered muddy pools that would one day become our vast secluded swamp lands.
Oftentimes the carrion birds left us well alone, and the only thing to worry of from the skys were the carcass-eaters (Vultures), though they tended only to the dead and dying. Until one long dry year, a famine struck upon those who ate of flesh, the small prey creatures dying off rapidly due to some odd illness, and in that year the sky rulers turned their eyes upon us the kimeti.
In the time of birthing the creatures struck in vast swarms, snatching up larva and hatching alike, anything light enough to carry away in their beaks and their claws. The screams of angry mothers and unborn young echoed throughout our lands mournfully that season, a dreadful haunting song that affected even the coldest most distant of hearts, for never had we suffered such a loss in young ones.
The next year, even though the small prey returned and the sky lords (All things that flew) had much to feast upon, they returned to us. A taste for kimeti had been born of them, and they found our young. So easy to pick from the bushes and rocks, a much better meal to be had then any swift footed hopper(Rabbit) or scale tale(Lizards) could be.
The massacres continued and our numbers dwindled, mothers tried in vain to hide their few precious young, the proud fathers to defend them from the swarming hoards of sky lords. No bush or rock was safe enough, no determination great enough to chase away the demon birds. The wails and moans of each passing year slowly faded as it became common place to loose ones foal, the ambition to protect slowly dying out in us.
Stabs-the-sky, a young strong buck with tall sharp antlers that spiraled up and outwards like many thorns. Saw what was happening to his people, he had spent much time away from the herd, outcast because of his strange looks and manners. Yet now he could no longer stand it, even if not a soul liked him he couldn't bear to see the young snatched away to the point where they would die out.
The next birthing season came and all hopes were low, the many mothers seeming to have lost heart no longer even trying to hide their precious newborns from the sharp talons and the death from above's. The hungry birds came and circled as always, the first and the largest of them. A mean beast named Shard-Beak, was always the first one to swoop down and start the fray. Spotting a young bright green sack hidden in a low brown bush he flew down to snatch it away, his attack halted so suddenly as he found himself impaled upon Stabs-the-sky's horns. The young buck having darted out just in time to stand over and protect the tiny sack.
The sky lord screeched in dying tones as stabs-the-sky was splattered with his blood, tossing the twitching carcass away. He bellowed at the remaining beasts and challenged them....The battle was fierce and stabs-the-sky well outnumbered, and yet of some miracle he managed to win. The few remaining sky lords fleeing in fear from the enraged buck.
After that the birds ceased to come, stabs-the-sky grew old among his brethren, honored as their hero, and when his death came to pass, instead of being left out for the Caracas-Eaters, he was lovingly buried.
From his grave a small sapling sprouted, and from that a large thorn covered tree with high branches and wispy leaves. The tree bore fruit and seeds, and it wasn't long until our lands were covered with them.
Now we are ever protected by them, from the grave of stabs-the-sky came our great forest, and the promise of safety for our young should the sky lords ever return to hunt us in such great numbers.
