Paradise [Open]

[Plume of the Eagle]

Plume hadn’t been a member of the Enclave for long; in fact he’d only been accepted the previous week. However, he knew the landscape pretty well, having winged his way around not long after his acceptance into the rank of hunter, a little inside joke. Having been found by the leader, Ahote, asleep with the bodies of two synesingers nearby, Plume had been placed as Thegn, or hunter. There were no hunters in this pack, apparently, so the Hauld had been filling in—until now, supposedly. Great Spirit, he was practically feeding the pack by himself, it would seem! The females, the beautiful and sheltered things, were the first he fed; then the males, and then he. This meant that—though he’d gained a few pounds from having a steady diet—he appeared gaunter, if that was possible.

Plume’s synesinger feathers were still tucked into the rest of his feathers, vibrantly bringing the once-drab brown wings to life. Plume yawned as he beat his wings, aloft in the air as he reflected. Below him was a small herd of deer, on their way to meet up with the mega herd forming right outside the borders. He shifted his wings, dropping into a curving descent. Plume analyzed the does, fawns, and the pair of stags—a white one, at that—below him. There was one female, a young one, who was limping. She was bedraggled and the cloying and sweet stench of roiling decay and infection rolled of her in waves, and saliva flowed into Plume’s mouth. His mind may know that he was in a pack and couldn’t eat, but his body didn’t, and it took a moment before he was on the ground and in control of himself.

The clearing was great browsing territory, and they appeared to have stopped—not noting Plume’s silent presence. He clamped his wings to his side, but kept them tense to flap them out and intimidate the young she-deer and get her away from the ten deer herd. Slinking forward on velvet paws, he stalked forward until they spotted him, the stags let out a warning bark, and wheeled away, the does and fawns following after with a robust sprint. However, the she-doe could only step forward and leap a little, prancing but not well. She continued, but knew that she had little chance to escape.

Plume lunged, and the doe was smart enough not to kick, for she would’ve fallen over and then the end would be upon her. Instead, she bleated in fear and stumbled faster, but—in her haste—tripped over a fallen tree branch and did not get up fast enough. Plume’s enormous six-foot wingspan was up and out, and with a triumphant howling bark; his fangs were buried in the warm neck she failed to protect. Her lifeblood welled up around his maw, and with a dying scream she struggled before going limp, the light leaving her eyes as her blood poured out, staining his paws and jaw rust-brown. The blood on his tongue made his mouth taste like metal, and his eyes narrowed as they raked and scanned the forest, but finding nothing returned to the half-grown doe. The female and male home tree was several miles away, and he wasn’t going to manage to haul the doe through miles of forest—he’d trip up and kill himself.

Thinking over the dilemma, he realized that the doe was small, weak, and young. With a struggle, he could perhaps carry it towards the Home Tree, with a lot of effort. Bracing himself, Plume grasped the nape of the doe’s neck, hauling it out into the clearing part way. Planting his wings in the upward position, he adjusted his grip and leaped forward and up, his wings straining to pull him aloft and into the safety of the air. After a second try, he was up and flying low—his tail and feet trailed along the tree tops, the limp deadweight of the doe leaving a trail of broken tree branches in its wake.

With effort he managed the three-mile journey, and as he descended towards the Home tree of the females, his wings gave out and he fell into an ungracious heap. Shaking off the earth and moss, he shouted towards the den, but stayed a respectful distance from it.

“Hello, is any Eranthe, Siv, or pup hungry? I’ve got a half-grown doe for you!” he shouted, dragging the doe closer to the entrance to the den before stepping back yet again. “Hello?”