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Minglings 32: Lonely volcano [part 2]
🕑 Added 2020-05-02 08:38:15 +0000 UTC
Mason felt helpless as he stared at the giant, two-headed terror birds perched all over the lush mountain. From his spot, behind an array of loose boulders next to the shore, he counted almost a hundred. Just before landing, he had passed one in the air, and it had screeched at him dangerously, a hungry look in its four eyes. It had owl-heads, attached too long, grey necks without feathers. Brown and black feathers covered its heads and body, thin and oily. It was at least as large as he was.
The further up the mountain he looked, the larger the birds became and, at the top, sat a behemoth of a bird. It must be three times as big as the others, and it looked down at the verdant green island below. Although he was too far, Mason imagined it had an arrogant look in its piss-yellow eyes.
So, one island with a volcano, one island with water, and this is the only place to hunt for food. Lovely! He took his eye away from the mountain and began examining the dense woods that covered the thin stretch of coast close to him. The trees that grew up the side of the mountain were too spaced out for him to hide. That meant any hunting he would do was going to be done in the lowest region, or he would be the one hunted.
Folding his wings, he ran from boulder to boulder across the grey, stony beach, coming to a stop below one of the thick, gnarly trees. A mangrove, or something similar, he thought, as he remembered a documentary he had seen. The roots of the trees grew together, creating a vast web with tons of hiding spaces.
Heading deeper inside the dark, moist forest, Mason looked for a spot to wait for something to pass by. It was weird, the memories of the other were slowly integrating with his own, and it almost felt as if he had been here. Locating a tree he had used before, he climbed atop one of the lower branches. It was as wide as he was with outstretched wings, and he crouched down at the edge, looking down and waiting.
Two or three hours later, he wasn't sure; his patience was running thin. What a fucking formidable hunter I am! There has to be a better way to do this. But with the dangerous flock of birds closeby and how hungry he was, he persisted. He could be patient if he had to be.
Another thirty minutes later, something moved through the dark mud below the network of roots. A grey, brown skin covered a long bendable shape. Two long antennae on its head were feeling around, touching everything in front of it.
Mason felt his stomach cramp, but he wasn't going to jump the gun. If he fucked up now, how long would he have to wait next time? Staying perfectly still, he waited for an opportunity. A few minutes later, one presented itself. The thing began moving towards an area with a large gap between the roots above, wide enough for Mason to fit.
Holding his breath and entirely concentrated, he waited until the last moment before leaping forward. He didn't spread his wings but trusted he could leap far enough, which proved to be a mistake. Halfway to the hole, he found he knew he was going to fall short, and he rushed to open his wings. They opened just in time for him to glide the remaining distance, but the action had alerted the giant centipede. It reared up on its hind legs, snapping with enormous mandibles at Mason.
Oh, fuck... with blind disregard for his surroundings, Mason folded one wing causing him to bank to the side. He felt the tips of something scrape his side before slamming into a cluster of roots. He was stunned for a second, but the sound of something slithering his way woke him up with a start. Scrambling up from where he lay sprawled over the roots, he saw the centipede was almost on him. He was about to open his mouth to burn it when he recalled the terror birds.
He jumped to the side, using his sharp claws to hold onto the slippery roots. The centipede was faster than him on the ground, and it turned towards him, bridging the gap. Fuck those birds! All riled up, Mason scraped his throat, roaring a column of fire into the centipede's mandible face. It was like putting fire to plastic, the plates around the mandibles began bubbling, turning another color, while the eyes popped like squashed grapes.
A loud screech came from the top of the mountain, quickly followed by dozens more.
Damnit, this is just not my lucky day! Grabbing the squirming centipede’s head, Mason began flapping like crazy. Like hell, he was going to leave his meal behind! He felt like he was trying to drag a car with him, but with a lot of effort, he finally got off the ground. The long carcass dragged behind him, sometimes getting stuck in the roots. Ten seconds later, he got above the root growth and finally began picking up some upwards thrust.
The first thing he saw above the tree line was a flock of rapidly approaching terror birds. Feeling his throat clench, Mason turned around and began flapping towards the sea. As he picked up speed, he kept glancing behind. Not fast enough! The terror birds were gaining on him. He had to drop the carcass, or they would catch him, but what would he eat?
Trying to gain more altitude and speed, he rushed across the water, heading towards the small rocky looking at the thing between his claws. Seriously, all this trouble for nothing? The more they looked at it, the angrier he became, but there was nothing for it. When the first of the birds were so close, he could see their irises dilate, he dropped his prey. With pain in his heart, and angry at the birds, he saw it plummet down.
A group of the terror birds screeched and changed course, diving after the centipede carcass. The rest, a dozen or so, came after him. Mason clenched his maw and began fleeing, heading to the distant grey spec.
An hour later, Mason's stomach was cramping up, and he knew his speed was dropping. At first, he was faster than most of the birds, and the slower ones had turned back, but now the remaining ones were gaining on him. He wasn't that unhappy, though, as a predatory smile spread across his draconic visage. Only five were still after him, and he was almost back to the volcano island.
He slowed a bit more, on purpose, to conserve what little strength he had left. Stealing my prey means you owe me one.
Angling down towards the entrance of the volcano, Mason heard the angry screeching. Will they follow me in? Better not risk it. He changed his course and landed on the side of the volcano, a few meters from the entrance. He would have preferred an aerial fight, but he could barely stay up. The five terror birds circled him, screeching and howling.
Still afraid? Let's make it more appealing. He took a step towards the entrance and faked stumbling, letting his wings hang down a bit. Almost immediately, he heard another screech, but this time it sounded different, and he saw the birds dive down. He crouched down, drawing in as much air as he could feel the red energy funnel towards him. There wasn't as much here as inside the volcano, but still, far more than anywhere he had ever seen.
The first of the birds almost reached him, claws outstretched, aiming at his eyes. Scrambling up, he roared into the sky. The torrents of fire hit two of the birds’ faces first, and they didn't even get a chance to scream. Their faces just melted away, and with a jerky motion, they careened into the ground a few meters from him. The other birds dodged the flames, but two got singed, and crying in pain they fled back into the air.
The last one rammed into Mason's unprotected side before he could get out of the way, and he felt its claws scrape against his scales. The momentum caused them to topple over, rolling over the floor, and the terror bird began attacking his face. Adrenaline spiking and filled with a bloodlust he had never had before, Mason ignored the claws. Snarling, he bit for the other’s thin, sinewy neck; his double eyelids closed shut to protect his eyes. A claw raked dangerously close to his left eye, slid along small, thin scales on his snout, tearing them open and making a gaping wound in the side.
Mason cringed, but at that moment, his jaws slammed shut around the thin neck, and without waiting, he began jerking the bird from left to right. It flapped and tried to reach his face again but failed, and only a few seconds later, its resistance began to lessen, before finally stopping altogether. Dropping the bird, Mason looked at the sky, but the two remaining birds were no more than small shapes, flying back to the other island.
He let out a roar of victory, before he stumbled to the side, feeling his consciousness flagging. Worn out, hungry, and in pain, he rubbed the back of his clawed front limb against his face, feeling the slick blood. It was even closer to his eye then he initially thought, only a few centimeters closer, and he might have lost one of his eyes.
Damnit, that was not how I had imagined it to be. Wondering how Jake had managed to find food at the start, he dragged himself to the closest terror bird and stared at it. His hunger made it look like a delicacy, and he began tearing open its soft belly, wondering if he could eat all three.
