Claws

Training

Sexual content ahead FOR 18+ READERS ONLY, proceed at your own risk.
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The last thing that I wanted was to be alone with the new lionhearts. Their eyes gleamed with a morbid curiosity, as if they wanted to leap on me and tear me limb from limb. Occasionally, the sound of chattering teeth was heard from the crowd, almost always followed by a "shush!" Or a "stop!" Or a wallop.
But maybe they were just curious about the new bird in their home. Maybe all they wanted was to properly greet me.
I could only hope the later was true rather than the prior.
Too soon, Luka laid a hand on my shoulder and gave a huge sigh, addressing the other humans in the room. "Well, we better skedaddle let the birds get their introductions in, huh?"
The woman with a cane gave an affirming, "Definitely. I can tell they're all chomping at the bit to say hello the real lionheart way."
The real lionheart is way?
"Let's take this outside, then. Don't want to tear up anything in here— George will have our head."
"George?" Luka asked.
"George." The female laughed awkwardly. "Your dad?
"Oh oh, that George." I could tell my master was telling a human lie. "Yeah, sorry. I know my own dad's first name."
"Riiiiight." The other human said before adding, "Let's get these birds outside."
Not a moment later, the group was on the way outside. Nerves practically ate me alive on the walk. Out of the dining room, through the hallways, between the staircases, out the magnificent front door, and down the masonry steps.
As soon as my feet touched the brick of the driveway, birds were on me like white on rice. Blizzard was the first of the fray to officially greet me— she was all over me, pulling apart and inspecting my flight feathers, grabbing my arms quickly, but gingerly, with protracted claws and sniffing to analyze my scent. Testingly, she let out a snarl, wings arched and shimmying. When I growled lowly in return, she backed down quickly.
"I like him. We should keep him." She purred in our shared tongue.
In the blink of an eye, more birds descended upon me. I stayed stock still while the twins inspected me.
"Cool colors." The male hummed.
"I've never seen a red bird before. Maybe he's dyed." The female mused.
"All natural." I flashed a smile of pearly white fangs at her.
"Hey, hotshot, eyes on me!" Her brother hissed.
Now would be a good time to test his mettle.
A snarl left my lips, and fangs were bared again, this time in a display of aggression rather than confidence. Two snarls were returned, and soon I was a foot from two enraged lionhearts. Jet black wings rose into the air in a V shape and shook quickly back and forth. Red and black wings responded in kind.
Growling crescendoed and I began to contemplate whether or not I could realistically take both in a fight. Each lionheart was diminutive in size compared to me. Did they have the same protection training? Did they have the same agility training? I decided I liked my odds, and growled louder.
The female began to back down. Growling quieted, teeth were covered by a frown, wings were tucked behind a small frame, and an unhappy throat was bared to me. The male followed suit seconds later. Neither of the pair seemed happy to submit.
Moments later, another bird slithered between the duo to investigate, and the pair backed off. The new lionheart was not much younger than myself—just a couple inches shorter than me but skinner than a beanstalk, she carried her body lightly as if a strong wind would knock her over. Tawny feathers barely peaked out from behind where they were pressed to her back. Soulful brown eyes, fluffy 4C hair, and chocolatey skin all completed the beautiful bird.
I recognized interest in her eyes. Without contest, she bared her throat to me with wings pinned to her back. Gradually, as if afraid to move, she came closer and inspected me. A calculating look here, a sniff there, and suddenly she placed a testing nuzzle against my chest. When I froze stock-still and didn't return the gesture, she respectfully created distance between the two of us.
"Hi," she began, "I'm Fawn."
"Hi," I replied, "I'm Apollo."
Tentatively, I returned her gestures. She smelled sweet like honey and when I laid a gentle, testing hand on her forearm, I discovered she was incredibly soft to the touch. So was her plumage, which was neatly groomed. I took care not to ruffle them.
After Fawn's polite introduction, the other birds' greetings became more cordial. The small strawberry-blonde bird was next— she embraced me wholeheartedly and mrrrrred a "Welcome!" In our shared tongue.
The gray-winged bird approached next. They smelled of sugar and flour, and weren't shy about getting into my space to catch my scent as well. No attempt was made to establish dominance.
A "Hmmmm," left the old bird, before they said, "I think you'll fit in here just fine. You can stop being nervous."
An awkward laugh left my body. "What makes you think I'm nervous?" I questioned as if they weren't absolutely correct.
"Literally everything about you." They deadpanned. "It's like you're afraid to get hurt."
A few seconds passed where neither of us said anything. Finally, the new bird relented.
"I'm Fig, as in Fig Newton. You are?"
"Apollo." I offered the name again. "Nice to meet you, Fig."
"Nice to meet you too, Apollo." They hummed, "I should let the other birds say hello. Ciao."
"Apollo, huh?" An unfamiliar voice grew louder and louder as it approached from behind.
Fig slunk off while I spun around to meet the new comer. A red-haired female with wild, curly hair and matching orange feathers approached next. She seemed to appreciate my red plumage, taking a primary flight feather into her hands and closely inspecting it.
     Tentatively, she extended her own wing for me to check out. I accepted her gracious offer. The light of the setting sun reflected off the sleek surface of her silky smooth feathers as if they had been washed and conditioned.
     "I'm a show bird." She hummed proudly at my confused facial expression. "My master takes very good care of me. I've been Best in Show four times and Reserve Best in Show three times."
     "Cool." I didn't know what else to say.
     "Your plumage is very beautiful. I bet you could be a show bird too." She mused.
     "I'm more interested in agility and protection." I returned.
     "Ooooh! And athlete!" The redhead purred, "My name is Ember. Nice to meet you, big boy."
Big boy?
     "I'm Apollo." I said simply, "Nice to meet you too."
     With that, the strange bird was off.
     Next, a Filipino bird with a mullet, sporting brown downy and covert feathers and blonde flight feathers. He was about 5'10", just shorter than me and barely taller than Fawn. This bird kept his distance. He sized me up, and decided to bare his teeth in a snarl, bicolored wings arching behind him.
A returned snarl, complete with pointed fangs and protracted claws, made him crack a huge smile and turned his growling into an affirming laugh.
"I like this one!" He yipped and came in for a hug. Surprised, but happy, I accepted it with open arms. We both took big whiffs of each other during the embrace— the smelled like cinnamon.
"I like your mullet." I offered as a compliment.
"Thanks." He replied, "My name is Roomba."
I choked on a surprised laugh.
"My mistress named me that because I never stop eating." He admitted, "You can just call me Roo."
Roo was literally shoved out of the way by a giant, and I mean giant, male lionheart.
Instead of the kind greetings I had gotten used to, this bird arched his wings, shimmied them back and forth, took a power stance, and roared. Without hesitation, I roared back.
Apparently that was the wrong decision, because as the crowd around us gasped, the bird charged me. I ducked out of the way with a practiced roll. It wasn't fast enough, however, because the bird was on top of me in no time, pinning me to the ground with dead weight I couldn't shake.
"Submit!" He snarled.
And I was back with Riya.
The scent of cumin flooded the air, and a renewed vigor filled my body. I kicked and punched and sank my teeth into the lionheart's shoulder, paying no mind to the howl of agony and surprise that erupted from his throat.
Toe claws fought free of the Sanctuary loafers I still wore and came between us, catching the flesh of his chest and kicking him back off of me.
When brown wings rose in anger, I saw midnight black feathers that had curled around us when we—
Claws found their way around my throat and squeezed. The sensation of simultaneously being choked and flesh being pierced brought me back to reality all too late. I was being throttled by the pack's alpha.
"I'm....sorry." I whined out with what little breath I could take, "....I'm sorry!"
     My entire frame was picked up into the air and shaken violently as the rest of the pack watched. Suddenly the ground came rushing towards me, and I smacked the earth with such force that when the hands were released from my throat I still couldn't breathe.
    "Submit!" Was snarled again.
     Choking on my breath, I struggled to cry out, "I submit! I submit!"
     The alpha male straightened himself over my body and gave the most haunting howl I had heard since Riya.
     After the alpha finished his howl, he addressed my sputtering form. "You're feisty." He chuckled, "What's your name?"
     Through ragged breaths, I groaned, "Apollo."
     "Apollo," he began, "I want you in my pack. What do you say?"
      My breath was finally back in my body. "After that, I don't think I really have a choice. Sure."
     "Well, Apollo, I'm Atlas, the alpha." A wicked grin split the bird's face. "Welcome to the Blue Moon pack."