Two Moons

Chapter 5 | Ensnared

The usual bright demeanor of the Whitherdell village was blotted out by gloomy clouds above the canopy. Remarkably, many reedacons were grounded today as strong winds blew through the trees, shaking their suspended huts and structures. Still, they delighted in each other's company, chirping and chattering among the pavilions and bridges.

Percy sat way above it all, nestled atop a branch near one of the far corners of the bridge. He carefully wove a needle in and out of the leather of his pouch, slowly sealing the tear from his earlier expedition. Other reedacons passed by along the branches and bridges beneath them, completely unaware of his presence, and that was how he preferred it. Furthermore, he wasn't above eavesdropping on the passing conversations.

"... The upper coverts set out last night. Harvsluk went with them." Percy's ears perked, swiveling toward the reedacons beneath him while he kept his focus on his pouch stitching.

"To Dubonyth? Is it really that serious?"

"Did you not hear? Sergeant Keenan brought arrows back with him. The Dubonyth Tribe said that the Valgryx Clan are beginning to weaponize their ranks."

"Downs, that's chilling... So you think Dubonyth is going to war with kylids?"

"They don't know, their leader won't say a word."

"But if they attack our sister clan, Whitherdell will take wing with them, won't they?"

"Hah, doesn't matter to me! I'll be miles gone before the first kylid even makes it to the border."

"Ah, you don't mean that!"

"I do! If Dubonyth wanted to live closer to the ground, it's their fault if they've gotta deal with the ground filth that comes with it."

Percy breathed a quiet, indifferent hiss, his ears twitching as he tied up some of the final stitches on the tear. The reedacons beneath him continued to giggle and gossip, becoming more crude with their humor.

"You DO know they can still fly, right?"

"Heh, I thought it was just where Whitherdell sent all their stilt-legged and twisted-winged brutes. Thought it suited them better."

"If that were the case, we wouldn't still have that puny-winged kook strolling around."

"Oh you mean the lieutenant's boy?"

Percy stopped right as he bit through the thread of his sew, finishing it off. His ears fell back as he peered down past the side of his branch and at the reedacons below. Their laughter began to ring in his ears more harshly as they continued.

"If he were mine, I would have sent him to Dubonyth the moment he fledged."

"Oh he wouldn't survive with them. Who knows, maybe he still has his uses here."

"Hah, yea. If the kylids invade, we can toss him to them as bait."

"Haha, that ought to buy us a bit of time."

Percy's feathers trembled as their voices began to drown out as they continued on. He clutched the pouch in his claws tightly, the low rumble of the thunder coursing through the trees around him. He felt his eyes swell, and his body tense up, but despite his anger, he had no outlet. He soon realized this, and let out a sorrowful sigh, the tension leaving his body. As the pair walked out of view, he dug his claws into the bark of his tree, beginning his descent.

By the time he reached the forest floor, the winds of the storm above began to howl, and the trees creaked with each gust. Despite the canopy's best efforts, rain still managed to reach the ground in strong and cold spurts. On days like this it was pointless to go below for water; a couple bowls sat on the window sill could easily fill the basin in a day's time. Percy didn't care. All he knew was that he wasn't interested in staying up in the village. He followed the same route he had taken the day before, mindlessly watching his feet as his talons drug through the mud. The usual bubbling of the stream was shrouded by the winds and rain, but he found it all the same from memory. Just the same he followed the stream deeper into the forest, eventually reaching the same ravine. A while later, he turned the same corner, reaching the same section of the stream where he was before. But there was no usual ambience. No lumbering attelae and no pesky eekrion. It was only him and his pouch. His grip on the leather tightened, until his claws could nearly pierce the hide, but then he stopped. His grip loosened as he leaned to the side, and then fell gently against the wall of the cliff. He slid to the ground, his legs curling up close as he wrapped his arms around himself. His feathers trembled as he shivered, and his mind raced without a single thought in focus. He felt his heart lurch with every quivering breath, his eyes welling up with tears that he was desperately fighting to hold back. Rain continued to barrage the area around him; just his cliff overhang offered him a little shelter.