Scribbles and Drabbles

Bow Verse Drabble - Hawk 1

Trigger Warning: Death from childbirth in the first paragraph

As a rule of thumb, K'nairi halflings born to a human mother had no wings - there was no room for them in a human womb. His mother died in childbirth due to his extra limbs tearing her apart. She bled to death, in pain and unaware of the twisted mess of a child she'd produced. 

K'nairi halflings took the eye contact of their father as proof of their bloodline. Womb born had yellowish to show that wingless or not, they carried the Goddess' blessings and gifts. 

He didn't. 

His blue eyes matched the sky on a clear day despite his blood father's eyes being orange. That was a blessing in a different way as his father left his mother pregnant with his child without a glance back in her direction. She was a piece of fun to him before returning to his mates. He killed his mother; he didn't need the eyes of the man who infected her. 

K'nairi didn't always gain a connection to the link, especially if they didn't live with k'nairi. No magic filled his fingers. Gravity didn't cease to exist under his feet as he danced through a storm. He remained firmly on the ground, stained by the blood of his mother and carrying deformed wings that would never work. 

His grandfather named him Hawk. 

His grandmother cursed him motherkiller. 

She regretted it when his hands reached for her from the crib, and he cooed in her arms. They loved him, but it didn't change what he was. His grandparents died, leaving him alone with a secret on his back and a hint at the top of his butt. He could hide the tail feathers a lot easier than the wings. 

The war raged, and being connected to the k'nairi in any way was dangerous. He stayed away. Until he got dragged into the conflict by the scruff of his neck. Recruiters didn't care much if no one was there to say otherwise. 

Which is when, at the age of twenty-three, Hawk met a full-blood k'nairi with proper-sized wings and a hiss of something otherworldly in his eyes. Hawk hated him. They generally were jerks and stalked around the camp without care or thought, with a pompous attitude that they backed up with fangs and claws. They claimed what they saw as theirs and moved on. Damn any human who got in their way. 

Hawk wanted nothing to do with that. He bound his wings and hid in plain sight. It ended up being easier than most would give him credit. Low-born peasants weren't known for having good posture.

"You hear about the Caw?" 

"Yeah, Wouldn't want to be one of those suckers," Hawk grunted, too busy digging a latrine to talk much. He'd not connected to the Link, but the idea of pulling away from it didn't sit right in his stomach. It was strange having the instinct that declared such a move as deeply wrong while not having the experience to understand why. Some things must be bone deep, disconnected or not.  

The mud around his ankles also put him in a foul mood. The smell of it clogged his nose. There were worse smells, but it rained recently, and it was wet and splodgy. 

"Not just Caw. Any flyer or human who crosses over into their lands without permission. For a race who claim not to have slaves, they seem to enslave a lot of people," Roo smoked his roll-up, watching Hawk's shoulders and back with appreciating eyes. Roo was off duty and enjoying tormenting his friend. Hawk flicked some mud in his direction and grinned as Roo complained. 

"I wouldn't let them hear you say that," Hawk warned, pausing his digging to catch his breath. "Most of the flyers are Caw anyway." The Goddess's gifts didn't disappear because her blood didn't have wings.

"Not all thought. One or two of ours is debating it."

"Becoming Caw? Stupid move." 

"Going to the K'nairi lands. If flight is all you need to get claimed, why not skip the fighting?" Roo said as if those words weren't dangerous. As if people who had uttered similar words hadn't been strung up to die in painful ways in the name of loyalty. Inciting desertion counted as treason.