Just Watching.....

[Zeriath]

It was a bleak day. Clouds were rolling in heavy with rain, and there was a strong westerly wind. Any other creature would consider this a day to stay inside their cozy little den or cave away from the cold weather. But possibly if they decided to poke their heads out of where they were hiding and look to the skys they would see an odd black speck in the sky flitting around through the clouds, and feel sorry for the speck, sorry that it couldn't find shelter. Then they would waddle back into their home without another care.

The black speck in the sky was not looking for shelter though, it was having fun darting in out of clouds, for this was a day to celebrate. Zeriath was doing exactly that. Celebrating. He was celebrate rain, which he rarely got to do because he could rarely find it.

[Scyrus Fallfeather]

Scyrus had been prowling in the forest for deer seeking refuge from the rain. His white feather's were tattered with droplets and his fur was damp. His ears had been folded back in what seemed like a "scared-cat" position. His colouration would fool deer, but most creatures without colourblind-ness, he stuck out. His gradient feathers and fur would give him away easily, yet he stood nearly still. A deer had been grazing in a small meadow beneath the canopies of tree's, unaware of the Gryffon's presence. Scyrus had been staring at the creature, then slowly slinked towards it like a large cat hunting his prey. The deer had looked up and gazed directly into his eyes, it had almost seemed for a second that Scyrus had been seen, yet the deer continued to eat. He waited for the right moment, when the large buck would wander too close. His wings were tucked back and his paws were soiled with water and the mud from the forest floor. All in a moments notice, Scyrus sprung, lunging for the deer, and by the time the deer realized it was food, Scyrus had it pinned to the ground. He stared at the fighting creature for a moment before tearing into the juggler with his beak. Blood sprayed all over his face and the ground, mixing with the mud as the beast mad it's last movements before rendering itself dead. The food in his stomach tasted good, and for once in his life, it hurt. It hurt for two reasons, he had missed watching his younger cub, Kaedril, hunting small game. He had missed the presence of his son period. But the rubble-tombstone at the base of Hawk's Ridge was an indicator that where there is life, there is death. And thats just what he thought as the bloody meat rolled down his throat.

He hadn't eaten in days, and he felt as if his stomach had shrunk, he wasn't worried about the flock, he had told them upon arrival of the territory to watch their backs and feed alone. The feeding grounds were a wide territory to cover, nearly five-hundred miles of forest, mountains, beaches and plains. He'd stop and stare into the black cold dead eyes of the buck, he had seen the life lift from the beast, and yet, life found a way to keep him alive. A flock leader has to keep his flock alive and well, he had wondered how the other's were feeding. He'd grab the carcass in his beak and stride off towards the open plains, the mud from the forest floor was discolouring his fur, as was the blood. There was a lake nearby, he could wash off and wait for the storm to let up. That was, if trouble didn't start up.