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Ryner: [ Radical Dreamer ] [ Word Count: 2,312 As of ]
Pan: Thalion [ Word Count: 1,635 As of 1.27.2016 ]

Under the watchful eye of his older siblings and his parents, Pan had become quite the little flier. They had molted out of their baby feathers long ago, sending the thin, light baby down into the four winds in exchange for stronger, more practical flight feathers. Long gone were the ugly, pointed shafts covered in a thin layer of baby fuzz. Now he had primaries, strong but flexible, and two powerful wings ready to start testing the air. Day after day, he and his siblings would climb to the boulders near their family's den only to jump from top to top, fluttering their wings and learning the proper strokes for flight. At first, they were gliding, learning how to angle their feathers to go up and down. Just that had been amassive amount of work. Every tiny adjustment to every feather changed their course slightly. Once they understood that, they worked on actually gaining altitude by flapping. Again- that was a lot of work. It looked easy, especially when observing the adults and of course, the Magus himself, but for a new-fledge it was impossible for several days. There was always one wing that was stronger than the other, it would flap harder. Weeks following that was learning how to flap evenly, strengthening them evenly, and learning how to combine the boulder-hopping with the flapping to actually fly.

Finally, after weeks of bruised paws, stubbed toes, and exhausted chests and shoulders, the little ones were able to fly. At first, it was under the careful gaze of their parents, and only in small,soft places around the floating islands but now they were able to flutter around the capital island without supervision. They were free-spirits, and they would need to learn how to fly on their own.

Pan was hardly the strongest flier, and far from the fastest. HIs brother, Siku, was quite agile and extremely quick on his feathers. His sire, Piccolo, was as
quick as a slipwind and just as capable in making sharp turns. His family was training to serve as the defenders of this place- defenders against what? Well...just in case. At least that's what Riddle-Mouth said. THey had to be fast. THey had to be agile. They had to be smarter, stronger, and braver than all the B'alam of the world because unlike the grounded ones, they had no way of surviving without their wit. Their floating rock was infertile and barren, no herd beasts roamed the wind-swept territory for meat and few plants would grow- none were worth eating. To survive, they had to sweep down to the ground and pluck what they could. It was their survival- and their greatest danger.

He was going to be the best at it.

Pan beat his wings, pushing himself up and over a large, rounded boulder. His hind legs kicked out, giving him the extra oomph he needed to curl his body downward and swoop into the small valley between rocks. To his surprise- he wasn't alone. He arched his back and beat his wings forward, pushing himself into a sudden stop. Back-winging? There had to be a word for it.

He turned himself, flappig akwardly to fly in place. Another cub! A newly-woven! He had heard of them before!

Pan let himself drop to his paws, nearly stubbing a claw in the process, and padded in closer. His wings, still flared out slightly, opened and closed in excitement as he inched closer.

Pan slowed as he approached, watching the little newly-woven shift and make himself comfortable against the sun-warmed ground at his back. A round belly, four paws, and a pair of wings all bathed in the sun's light, warming them as he entered the world. He'd never seen a newly-woven before. He'd heard that some B'alam, adults and cub alike, simply appeared from the earth. Riddle-mouth said that dust seemed to rise and swirl up from the ground itself, pushing and squeezing into a form until it took its first breath. The breath of the Weaver he called it. Pan swallowed his disappointment at having missed that crucial moment and instead clung to the fact that he, the middle-child no one of a second litter, got to find his very first newly-woven.

"Bet you don't have a name yet, do you?" He didn't bother with introductions. If this kid was still waking up, odds were he wasn't very bright. His father had said that Newly-woven were...slow to start. They didn't know their name, their bodies, or much of anything. That's why they sought out the Magi. The magi knew everything.

"Well I'm the first thing you'll ever know- so I'm gonna help you learn. It's my job, you know. If you start off right, you'll not stub your toe." He padded closer and gave the cub a nudge. "Hey- you okay? Did you get woven....slow?"

Well that was good! The newly-woven had the smarts to at least back-talk. Some B'alam might get offended, maybe... he didn't know. But not him! Maybe this cub would have a fun personality. Maybe he'd be interested in playing pranks on the grounded ones his tribe was always talking about. Maybe he'd get a few laughs. If he was that quick with his lip, maybe he'd be even faster on the wing! It was an exciting propisition.

"I'm talking about getting up." He said, as if it should have been obvious from the start. Slow. Remember, they were woven slow. Be patient. Dang it, he didn't want to be patient! He wanted to go test his wings with someone now! It wasn't fair that he had to wait until he was older. HIs siblings would surely tell on him if he tried anything fun. Spoil sports.

"You gotta roll to your belly first- then use your paws to push up. Dont' worry about your wings, you'll figure them out in a second."

"Well it's a better idea than laying around all day." Pan sighed. This cub was certainly off to a slow start. If he had to think on it for too long, he'd assume that this was how rocks were woven into being. They laid there, too tired and too lazy to do much about themselves so eventually moss grew over them, their fur became hard and britle- then they were rocks. The end. Maybe that's how earth b'alam were woven? Slow. Stiff. Unmotivated. Poor things. Maybe their wings simply dropped off from misuse- now that would be a tragedy.

"Well there's no one aound. You don't want to be out here when night falls. We aren't the only things up here you know..." Pan's eyes darkened with a playful mischief. He crept around the cub in a slow circle, his shoulders arched up high and his tail twitching behind him.

"We've seen them at night...shadows that move over the moon. It's the last thing you'll see before they get you. Ugly things. Wings that look like stretched skin and bones. Fangs that draw blood right out of you- suck you dry! They're huge. Dangerous...and they'll find you sleeping here. Delicious little blood bag-" He jumped out and chomped down onto the new cub's ear. A playful gesture, but he was going for effect. All the best story-tellers went for effect.

He wasn't as good at this as the adults were, but that was beside the point. Somehow the adults were able to paint mental images in their stories. They would describe the Dark Tribe monsters as being twice the size of even Riddle-Mouth with fleshy wings wrapped around boney claws that tore at the sky rather than stroking it as their feathery wings did. Their fangs were thin, pointed like claws rather than teeth. They were meant for puncturing, not clamping down, carrying, or tearing. They moved in the night like physical shadows, hunting for the blood of the living. If anything painted a better picture of a monster, Pan had yet to hear it. He was unaware that his own tall ears, longer and more pointed than most of his kin, were ironically a trait passed more strongly through the linage of the dark tribe.

He none the less took pride in the little story he wove as it seemed to effect the newly-woven in the manner that he hoped it would. He was squirming with discomfort, shifting himself first into a tight little ball. He could see the fur standing on end along his spine and in between his shoulders. The cub's face scrunched as he listened, unaware that Pan was so masterful in his craft that he'd add a physical jump scare to add another level of dimension. He was just that good.

Finally, following his ear-n**, the other cub was up to his paws, bristled, and hissing. Pan rolled over onto his back, flaring his wings wide. For the moment, the odd eyes went amiss as Pan's eyes were squeezed shut as he roared in laughter. He pointed a paw towards the new cub and attempted, and failed, to speak inbetween breaths. Finally as the laughter stilled, leaving the cub breathless, he rolled back to his paws and turned with a wide, flashing grin to the other.

The grin dropped immediantly.

"H-hey...what's up with your eyes!?" He frowned, all humor seeping from him. Suddenly he felt...very exposed, vaunerable, out in the open. It was like someone had dropped him down below under the gaze of a hundred of the bone-winged beasts. Every nerve felt as if it had been consumed by ice. For a moment all Pan could do was stand and stare. His fur slowly began to rise up as he attempted, and failed, to look away. He'd never seen B'alam with eyes that looked so....so....wrong. So empty.

The bare, exposed feeling that left him cold from the pit of his stomach to the tips of his claws soon festered, turning into defensive outrage. Never in his young life had he felt so...open, so exposed and defenseless. It was as if everything was being ripped from the inside of his mind and presented for the world to see. He'd not exactly lived long enough to have skeletons in his closet or secrets to hide, other than his true name, but the feeling was down right violating.

His feathers rose up off of his body, making him look twice as large. His long ears pinned back tight against his skull and the cub crouched down to bear his teeth. Whatever this feeling was, he certainly didn't like it...and what the heck was wrong with this other cub's eyes?! No one had eyes like that. They were unsettling, like something out of a nightmare or a cautionary tale.

"Just- just stay back! Keep away from me you freak!"

"Get away! GET AWAY FROM ME!" Pan stumbled over himself, a clumsy movement he would deny to high heaven later. Panic flooded his little body, driving him in a blind rush for the edge of the small island. He barely remembered his paws rushing the ground, clawing desperately for every foot that he could put between himself and the evil-eyed monster. He felt like every nerve was on fire, every strand of fur, and every shaft of his feathers was filled with electricity.

With a desperate flap of his wings, Pan sent himself out and upwards. He flapped frantically, pushing himself further and further away. Even after the island was reduced to a small dot in the distance he felt like his heart was pounding against his ribs, throbbing like a ball of fire.

Riddle-Mouth. He had to tell Riddle-mouth! They had monsters wearing their feathers! Leather-wings disgusided as one of them!