Gargoyles X TMNT: Shadows of New York

Hitchhiking

The eldest of the Wyvern Clan's rookery children had a gift that set him apart from his brothers; Pycnofibers. Primitive hair-like feathers veiled the scales of his leathery wings, which let him glide and soar like an ancient pterodactyl. Not even Goliath could match his ability to gain altitude and stay airborne. His 20-foot wingspan and flexible tail could catch and direct even the finest and weakest of air currents.

Unfortunately, there was absolutely no wind tonight. Not that height would help him smell out the stranger who had vanished into the night. His eyes, glowing the faintest white, peered through the brush of the meager little tree that stooped over the road. The branch underneath him creaked softly, all four of his claws clutching tightly and his tail wrapped around the trunk behind. He kept his wings caped, trying to shrink his profile as much as he could.

He sniffed again. There was a human with the stranger now. He smelled the two of them coming well before he saw them. Hunkering low, he tried to melt into the night.

Two pairs of footfalls pounded towards him. "The hell did you say to piss them off, Casey?!" His quarry huffed. His friend–rich with the stink of a human–replied, out of breath, "I told them LA has better sushi, California's for rich softies, and naming yourself after miners is stupid." "Where's the van?" "There!"

They dove into a white van, disappearing from sight. He growled, thoughtful. "So that's how you've been getting around." He murmured.

The snap of the van's doors was quickly followed by the thundering of more feet.

"Where'd they go?" "I dunno, but I'm gonna find that damn Yank and put his head on a pike!"

A knot of humans, clothed in black and gold, swarmed down the street. Five, all male, some elders, but mostly young. He remained as still as possible, slowing his breath. After a few minutes of searching, one of them called out to the others, and they vanished further into the parking lot.

Well, that was a clear enough signal for him. Now, it was his turn.

He leapt from the tree to the lamppost, slithering up its height like a lizard to perch from the arm of the light. Balancing carefully on it, he removed the streamer from his belt. Attached to the other end was a small rock. He whirled the streamer in a pinwheel at his side, letting it spin up a blur of green-and-silver momentum, before releasing the foxtail straight up into the air with a snap of his wrist.

The shimmering streak wouldn't have meant much to others. In fact, it was likely that most humans wouldn't have seen it. But he knew that to his smallest rookery brother, a single flying streamer was as vivid as the falling star of a ship's flare at sea.

The stone clattered into the road, empty and devoid of vehicles or people. Then, suddenly, he saw two shapes fast approaching him from the air above the stadium. In a moment, his brothers had landed in the darkness of the trees, on the outskirts of the parking lot. He swooped to join them in the dark, tucking down his wings into a more stealthy cape. The three stooped down behind a tall juniper hedge that ringed the checkerboard field of car hoods.

"You found a way out?"

"Yeah." The eldest jerked a thumb at the van. "You remember that time we snuck out of the castle in a hay wagon?"

The youngest blinked those huge eyes of his. Then he squeezed them shut. "Please tell me I don't have to hide with the pigs again."

The eldest wriggled his eyebrows. The smallest groaned.

"We're hitching a ride?" The broad one asked.

"We're hitching a ride." The red one smirked.

The small one rubbed his eyes. "We are gonna be grounded to the Rookery for another millennium after this."