Claws Of The Past

Chapter Two

You would have thought that feet weren't all that important to a bird, after all, they did have wings. Unfortunately, that would be wrong, as Fury had recently discovered. He had great difficulty flying at first, but had now managed to get the hang of it; but he hobbled along the ground more often than not. As it happened, he had managed to sort out a sort of wonky, zig-zagging flight pattern, but as of late the dogs had taken to trying to catch him; they saw him as weaker after loosing it. Indeed, he had been weak for many a day. His blood covered stump had been crisp with infection and agony; especially after his old flock had left and it's healers left with it, abandoning him for dead after saying the rites of passing.

Well, Fury had always been one thing, and that had been incessantly stubborn and obstinate. He especially hated being underestimated, overlooked, ignored or even anyone attempting an argument with him. Most of all, he hated being proven wrong. If anyone would try and sass him, or say he wasn't capable of something, he would go to the ends of the earth to prove them wrong. Which he had; but for better or worse he didn't know.

The healers of his old flock had always been a funny sort, quite stiff-lipped and up-tight, always preening and plucking their feathers like vain songbirds. He still remembered the head healer, Rose, but a fat lot of good she had done for him after his amputation. Rose, the acclaimed best healer in all the land? What a load of tosh.

Fury narrowed his eyes, shifting slightly upon his bench. Occasionally, passer-by humans would notice and take pity, handing him a few juicy, scrumptious crumbs. Fury was a sneaky Raven, that was how he lived his life. Before, he had been a proud and noble warrior of the flock, until those good-for-nothing, featherless fluff balls had abandoned him to die in the cold.

Harrumph was what he said to them, harrumph! Fury had spent a good long rest, a time when he thought he would have died, but he was always a remarkably strong and tough old bird, and he pulled through, miraculously. Of course; being without a pack he had to resort to his cunning and cleverness, but Ravens always were. He had chosen a new roosting site, near where the human flocks gathered for lunch. They were always the easiest to trick and manipulate, and Fury was excellent at scheming his way around things.

He had formulated a plan of domination, and it worked out relatively simplistically. Step One, scare of the pigeons. This was easily accomplished, a few threatening caws, a ruffle of obsidian black feathers and long hooked claws and the stupid flying rats would be off. Step Two, limp about and show off the wounded leg. Hopefully some of those soulless humans have heard of sympathy. Step Three, Accept the food and eat till happy; or; Step Four, Steal all their food when they're looking the other way.

Personally, Fury found the latter more fun, but it was difficult, and Fury was often exhausted afterwards. In reality, Fury was slowly starving, no matter how many crumbs or plates he nicked, what he really needed was a healthy supply of meat and bones to pick. Nothing like a bit of old juicy carrion, that was what his old ma' said. Fury shook his feathers, cursing himself. No time for procrastination, he reminded himself, while giving himself a healthy mental slap. Shifting on his toes, Fury let out a throaty caw. A large brute of a dog looked up at him, malevolence oozing out of it's tiny black pits as it coughed out a threatening bark.

"Aye, I hear ya." Grumbled Fury, letting out a screech as he awkwardly launched of the branch. (He still hadn't gotten the hang of that with only one foot). "Ye dumb dog, brain the size of a walnut. All bark no bite, ain't ye?" The Raven taunted, as the dog continued to strain on his leash and let out loud barks. "Don't exhaust yer self, ye need yer strength."  Fury turned and flapped away, turning to wreck havoc on one building nearby.

He'd noticed some crows raiding the building once, and knew they kept stacks of raw meat down there, but for what he didn't know. According to the crows he'd scared into talking, it was some sort of doggy zoo. Fury twisted his head, riding the currents of the winds and barreling into the building.

The world blurred around him, as Fury shot past, sending bits of paper flying and startling human workers. There was a loud sound coming from deep below, a cross between a moan and a scream. The Raven narrowed his eyes, as he suddenly pulled to a haunt. A tempting plate of meat stood before him, along with a bone tired wolf and several rat carcasses.

Fury's Beady eyes narrowed, examining the wolf. A plan began to formulate in his head, a tricky plan of woe and so forth, one that could lead to a utopian ending of plenty of food, or a grim dystopia of a dead Raven. Fury could see before him an endless supply of food, should that wolf be free.

A solution to his mid-life, one-legged crisis. Fury twisted nearer through the bars of the cage, and twisted his head.

"So," he began. "You must be quite tired of this place, eh?"

~ Olivia