by Alex Rey
What the heck are those? They were quite possibly the largest beasts Pesstian had ever laid eyes upon. One of them—and no more than one—could have sunk the human’s vessel simply by standing on it. A bovine appearance held to every one of them, only advancing Pesstian’s view toward their overall largeness.
Before any such question could have been answered, the sound of Leyai’s voice pierced through Pesstian’s ears. Hearing as her voice echoed within his head, he momentarily lost his balance and nearly toppled over into the snowy ground. “Alright—I’m coming!” he growled while taking a look back at Leyai.
His curiosity cured, Pesstian slipped back into the humans’ bag. He felt as his feet met with the freezing, icy ground, listening as anxiety urged him to tell Leyai of the milieu he had just witnessed.
As his head fell back into the bag, Pesstian gasped, “You won’t believe what I just saw!”
Suddenly excited, Leyai perked up slightly while asking, “What’d you see?”
His heart leaping into his throat, Pesstian released a small grunt and took a seat. “Okay,” he began after clearing his throat. “While I was trying to figure out what the humans were up to, I saw literally hundreds huge animals walking in a group.”
“How big were they?” wondered Leyai.
“It looked like all of the humans could have fit into one of their stomachs!”
It was only a heartbeat after hearing Pesstian utter these words when the sound of Leyai’s laughter filled the air. Not so much was she laughing at Pesstian; rather she was laughing at the thought of any creature holding enough mass to hold all the owls’ their human friends inside of them.
Right now Leyai could imagine an obese creature born without the ability to walk. That’s probably what they look like, she thought.
“Sorry,” she giggled while rubbing her right eye with her wing, “But I just don’t understand how something that huge can even be alive!”
“Well, they were alive—no doubt about that.” Just before a moment of silence could have split the air, the cacophonous sound of violence suddenly pulsated into the owls’ ears.
“Who’s doing that?” wondered Leyai.
Not even waiting for an answer to come, Pesstian urgently poked his head back out of the bag, nearly causing it to topple over into the snow. I gotta be more careful, he realized. Next time I might draw snow into this thing.
As these thoughts rang true in his head, Pesstian felt as snow and ice shot his eyes. Where did they go? he wondered as he started to panic. Why now? Why was this gust of wind torturing Pesstian now?
Fortunately for Pesstian, the wind did not last forever—and at last he recovered his vision. The little owl opened his eyes, wishing to see the large beasts once more. This time, however, the sight of them only led Pesstian to heartache.
Pesstian noticed as the humans gathered around one of the large creatures—while the rest cowered away. Beneath the humans’ feet was red snow—the sight of which caused Pesstian to pull back into the bag.
“They killed one of them!” Pesstian gasped. “The humans just brought down one of the huge animals!”
A startled look appeared on Leyai’s face when she stammered, “B-but that’s impossible! If those creatures really are as big as you said they were, then they should have been able to bring the humans down no problem!”
Upon hearing these words, Pesstian snuck another peek at the group of the furry animals—this time without tilting the bag at all. It was then when he noticed as the herd made a desperate retreat from the humans.
Despite their large size, Pesstian silently muttered, they can move pretty fast. It hadn’t taken long for the sound of their gathered footsteps to rattle through the ground and up to the owls’ ears.
Pesstian suddenly lost his balance and nearly toppled over on top of Leyai—only to feel as the claws of her legs pushed him away. He may as well have been pushed with knives.
Turning around, Pesstian rubbed his chest while apologizing, “Sorry about that.” Shifting slightly in his seat, Pesstian continued, “But seriously—I think it’s best that we just stay in here until the humans decide to do something with us.”
A small sigh of worry escaped from Leyai’s beak as she slowly nodded her head. “Okay,” she murmured her confirmation.
As the owls waited for the humans to return, they listened as the sound of death rumbled outside. According to what Pesstian had heard, a total of five moans escaped from the mouths of dying creatures. It was torture to have to hear somebody else die—even if they were behemoth strangers.
At last the sounds of death ceased; nothing remained but silence. Pesstian and Leyai both allowed sighs of relief to pass from their beaks as a result.
“I hope that’s the last we’ll hear of that!” Leyai snorted.
“It probably won’t be,” Pesstian grunted, flicking his gaze toward Leyai. “All I know is that we’re lucky that we’re not them!”
“I know—I feel pretty sorry for them.” Leyai sighed, thankful how she didn’t have to witness any of the outdoor brutality.
“All I hope for now is that the humans will give us something to eat with those creatures’ meat. I don’t care what they taste like! I’ll eat one of those ocean animals just to stop my stomach from eating itself!”
With a beak wide open, Leyai gasped in disgust. “That’s horrible! Did you not just hear all those creatures dying? And now you’re saying we should eat them?” Then her stomach started growling violently. “Okay—fine!”
Feeling as sleep began to cloud his thoughts, Pesstian released a sigh just before allowing a yawn to escape from his beak. Feeling as if he had nothing else to do, he made himself comfortable and prepared himself for what he thought was going to be a long sleep.
Feeling as their malnourished, freezing bodies grew weaker and weaker, the two owls fell into slumber.
--
As the little owls slept in their human friend’s bag, Leyoht flicked his eyes wide open after a long sleep, his head pressing up against his mother’s chest and the rest of his body sitting on a rather itchy nest.
Now wide awake, he quickly came to notice his father was nowhere to be seen or heard. “Mother?” he asked of Sahemawia. “Where’d father go?”
Unaware of Leyoht’s awakening, Sahemawia’s entire body jolted up in a flinch. Her heart rate slightly above the norm, the sitting mother took a nervous look down at her son. “Oh—good morning, Leyoht!”
“Ow—ow!” Sahemawia cried, her eyes clenching tight. Without any warning, a cramping pain formed along her legs. In order to ease her pain, she extended her legs, shifting in her seat all the while.
Utterly confused, Leyoht placed a concerned look on his face when he asked, “What’s wrong?”
“Oh,” Sahemawia moaned in response. “I just sat on the wrong side of the egg.”
“You were sitting on the egg?” Leyoht muttered in question. “Why?”
At the hearing of these words, Sahemawia picked herself up from her nest. Upon doing so, she revealed her egg right below where she had just been sitting—and it was completely safe from harm.
Leyoht asked while desperately trying to stifle a chuckle, “Wouldn’t that break it?”
“Thankfully, it doesn’t,” Sahemawia replied through a smile. She placed her seat on the egg once again when she pointed out, “Anyway, if I were to stop sitting on the egg, the chick inside will freeze to death. It’s even more likely that it’ll die in the winter compared to how likely it was for you to freeze up—since I hatched you out just before winter started.”
Right after these words escaped from her beak, the sound of flapping filled the two owls’ ears. Gusts of wind came out from beneath Ulpheir’s wings and into their ears—and they both took a look toward the hollow’s entrance.
The son and mother saw as Ulpheir clutched onto the rim of the entrance. Leyoht watched as Ulpheir made his way into the tree—yet the only thing he focused on was the plump lemming dangling from his fathe
r’s beak.
Such a sight had caused a sense of bliss and paradise to enter Leyoht’s mind. Fortunately, he proved temporarily able to hold back his emotions—that was until Ulpheir hopped up directly in front of him, the lemming still hanging from his maw.
A nearly inaudible chuckle escaped from Ulpheir chest just before he started tearing up the lemming’s carcass with his talon. The very sound of his father’s talon seeping into the lemming’s flesh caused Leyoht’s gizzard to rumble.
The young owlet’s entire body gave an excited shake. Voraciously did the thought of dipping his beak into the lemming’s rich protein ebb through his mind. This is so exciting! I haven’t eaten in almost a day!
Momentarily trapped in his own thoughts, Leyoht’s eyes locked onto the lemming. However, his eyes lost their position on the lemming when Ulpheir grabbed a fistful of the rodent’s meat, holding it just below Leyoht’s beak.
Noticing the meat right in front of his face, Leyoht opened his beak and gave his head a slight tilt—as to avoid the possibility of hurting his father while scooping up the clump of food with his beak. Not a single word escaped from his beak as he gulped down his meal.
While his son remain blind-sighted, Ulpheir allowed a worried look to cross his face.
Watching her mate anxiously set the rest of the lemming’s body on the hollow’s floor, Sahemawia asked through a murmur, “What’s wrong? Did something pop up?”
“Sahemawia, we need to talk about something,” Ulpheir explained, flicking his gaze toward Leyoht. “Do you want to go outside?”
It was during the moment of question when Leyoht had just finished his share of the lemming. He closed his eyes and placed a small strain on his neck as the remainder of the meat slid into his stomach. His gaze pointing up toward his father’s eyes, he questioned from him, “Huh?”
“Do you want to go outside?” Ulpheir repeated, a slightly larger spark of emphasis forming in his words.
Slightly confused at such a sudden offer, Leyoht stammered through a smile, “Uh—o-okay.”
Barely a single word escaped from Ulpheir’s beak when he wrapped his talons around Leyoht’s shoulders.
Feeling as his father’s talons squeezed what felt like his entire body, Leyoht fought the urge to release a yelp of surprise. Why’s he taking me out all of a sudden? he wondered. Maybe Ulpheir was just in a good mood. Only a heartbeat later and Leyoht’s talons ceased touching the ground.
As Ulpheir rushed through the tree’s exit, Leyoht’s heart began to race when he felt the lower rim of the entrance brushing against his talons. Such racing increased when the cool, outside breeze brushed against the feathers of his face.
His body blending in with the surrounding white landscape, Ulpheir effortlessly glided down toward a thick blanket of snow. Within a wingspan-length away from the ground, he targeted a subtle spot for his son to land.
As Leyoht’s feet touched the ground, Ulpheir almost immediately released his grip on his son’s shoulders. It was shortly after doing so when Ulpheir flew his way back up into the tree. All the while did he shout out to his son, “Just call for me when you’re ready to come back inside!”
Ulpheir released a small sigh of both relief and stress once his feet touched the hollow’s floor. Realizing as her mate cast a worried look upon his face, Sahemawia asked through a small wave of impatience, “What’s going on?”
A small pause of silence came into place before Ulpheir sighed, “I have some bad news.”
“What? What’s going on?” Sahemawia wondered while scratching the back of her head
“Have you noticed that there’s a new breed of both owls and humans?” Ulpheir asked in response.
For the first time in what seemed like a generation, a spark of fear appeared in Ulpheir’s eyes. It wasn’t so much of a spark, thought Sahemawia, as it was a tear. A tear seemed to be developing within Ulpheir’s eye. Was he on the brink of weeping?
Sahemawia knew Ulpheir for usually letting complicated situations slip his mind. However—for this one time—the look in Ulpheir’s eyes suggested he was feeling more troubled than ever before.
Although it was clear to Sahemawia how her mate was going through a time of trouble, she found it odd why this new breed of owls and humans bothered him.
A confused look appeared on her face when she asked Ulpheir, “Okay—so there’s a new breed of owls and humans?” Unlike Ulpheir, she showed no fear in her eyes—but rather did wonder appear in t hem.
Another awkward pause of silence came into place before Ulpheir continued, “I don’t know if they’re really a new species of owls and humans or not. All I know for sure is that I’ve never seen anything like them. The owls are gray and tiny while the humans are tall and white.”
“Anyway,” Ulpheir murmured with a sigh, “it’s not so much as the owls that I’m afraid of; it is the humans who worry me.”
“Why just the humans?” Sahemawia pointed out through a question. “What’ve they done to make themselves look worse than the owls?”
“You’ll think it sounds crazy,” Ulpheir muttered. “But these new humans have a habit of cutting trees down. What’s even worse is they’re heading our way!”
It was instantly after hearing these words when Sahemawia stared into Ulpheir’s cold eyes, her beak dropping wide open. That spark she had earlier seen in Ulpheir’s eyes now showed in her own.
“B-but that means that they could come here next, and destroy every tree in sight!” she stammered, fighting the urge to draw tears.
As a small series of Sahemawia’s sobbing echoed throughout the hollow, Leyoht walked up toward the bottom of the tree’s trunk. He took no notice of the sobbing when he called out, “Father—I’m ready to come in!”
The sound of Leyoht’s voice caused both Sahemawia and Ulpheir to flinch in surprise.
Oh no! Ulpheir silently cursed just before allowing a growl to escape from his beak. It was all the while when Sahemawia struggled to quiet herself down, brushing small rivers of tears from her eyes.
Ulpheir placed a neutral look upon his face as he made his way toward the hollow’s entrance. “Alright!” he called out, his wings extending as he readied himself for flight. A large gust of air blasted underneath Ulpheir’s wings—and before he knew it, he was flying down to his son.
Almost as if he were about to pounce down on a rodent, Ulpheir’s talons snatched around Leyoht’s shoulders. Of course, after the pounce came the kill—which was something Ulpheir would have never done to his own son. It was after skipping the killing step when he pulled Leyoht up into the air.
Gravity pulled down on Leyoht’s feathers as the wind pushed him once more. This sensation caused him to yearn for the day when he himself would finally learn how to fly on his own. How does father do it? he silently wondered while taking a close look at Ulpheir’s outstretched wings.
A soothing wave of heat pressed up against Leyoht’s skin when his talons suddenly touched the hollow’s floor. He had barely even seen it coming—and he almost tripped as a result! Such a feeling made him want to snuggle up next to his mother.
Sahemawia asked of her son while wiping the last of her tears, “So—it wasn’t very fun out there?”
“No,” Leyoht replied, shaking his head. A sense of woe seemed to sprout from his voice.
The sound of shredding filled the hollow when Leyoht continued, “Nobody was outside—so it was boring out there. What made it even worse was that it was so cold out there!” It was while uttering the word cold when Leyoht wrapped his wings around himself and shivered.
Sahemawia released a happy—yet unpleased chuckle. Unfortunately for her, Leyoht stared straight through her laughter and caught sight of her hidden depression. Seeing the fearful glint within her eye, he placed a confused look on his face when he asked, “What’s wrong?”
A small bolt of fear and surprise leaped into Sahemawia’s mind at the sound of these words. It was while desperately attempting to hold back the urge of stuttering when s
he asked, “Wh-what do you mean?”
“You’re acting sad,” her son pointed out. A pause of silence came into place when Leyoht repeated, “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing!” Sahemawia snapped. It was then when she took a stand, towering over Leyoht. “Stop asking!” The whole room met silence. Releasing a sigh, Sahemawia sat back down, a spark of guilt lighting within her stomach.
Now slightly afraid of his mother, Leyoht turned a look over to his father—who was pulling out some food for himself. Leyoht took the risk of causing even more infuriation between his family when he asked, “Can I go back outside?”
“What?” Ulpheir haughtily responded as he flipped his gaze onto his son. He quickly came to realize how he had snapped at Leyoht in the same way as Sahemawia. Feeling guilty of his mistake, he corrected himself by replying, “Oh—okay.”
Fighting against a wave of impatience, Ulpheir placed his lemming on the floor and walked up to his son. A heartbeat of silence slipped into place before he swiftly wrapped his talons around Leyoht’s shoulders for the last time in what he hoped would be a while.
This is very uncomfortable, Leyoht thought. The owlet felt as his father’s talons scratched against his skin.
Resisting the urge to let out a yelp of pain, Leyoht braced himself for impact. Fortunately for him, most of the impact carried upon his feet—rather than his face—when Ulpheir carried him down to the ground.
Once his son’s feet met up with the snowy ground once again, Ulpheir immediately hopped off Leyoht’s shoulders and landed in a snowy spot directly in front of his son.
His feet implanted into this one little area, he bent down—bending further and further until his beak remained barely any distance from the top of Leyoht’s head. “Do you promise that you’ll stay out here longer than you did last time?” the impatient father murmured.
“Yes,” Leyoht assured through a smile and a quick nod of his head.