[glow=red,2,300]Trespasser[/glow]
The day started off as unappetizing. Clouds covered the sky, blocking all but the weakest sunlight falling down on the Pykiin Valley. A light drizzle had been going on and off since the previous night. The little creatures of the valley had taken refuge under large leaves and brush to keep dry as they slept.
He was unlike anything that had entered the valley before. Completely jet black, from the tips of his horns down to the scales on his feet, burning red eyes that peeked out from his onyx fur like something peering at you from under a rock. There was a faint black glow about his body, as if he was sucking the light from the air around him. He might have told his name was Black Hole, if anyone cared to ask him.
No one did.
Sensing danger, the adult Pykiin gathered the children around them and retreated toward the Dryad’s great truck, the place they had always been protected. The rest of the valley grew quiet. The birds ceased their song and the small mammals took cover. The grasshopper wings stilled. Silence stretched across the grass.
Black Hole walked calmly, surveying this new territory that he had discovered. It was the scent of magic that drew him here, and it felt familiar. It was something he wanted.
In the center of the valley grew a large tree, its bark rich maroon. Black Hole surveyed it as he came into sight. The canopy stretched far, covering a great portion of the valley. Tiny baubles swayed on the wind, hanging from the branches. He stared at them, eyes narrowed.
“Um, hello there. We’ve never seen you in the valley before.”
Black Hole turned toward this new voice, his hackles raised and claws extended. In a moment his fur settled and he smirked, for he found he could be almost looking into a mirror, save for the coloring.
“Hello there,” purred the jet Pykiin. “It seems this place has a reason for feeling familiar after all.”
“Who are you? Do you come from here?” The other adult Pykiin was confused by this newcomer, and wary for a reason he didn’t understand.
“He smells funny!” A small creature crept forward to sniff at Black Hole’s feet, and after a moment he recognized that it must be a young version of his kind. With a growl he extended his claws and swiped at the child.
Yelping, the youngster jumped behind his older brother, who now understood the reason for his caution. “I don’t know why you’re here, but we live in peace,” he tried to speak calmly.
Black Hole sneered at the foolishness. “Peace is for the weak. I am strong. And the magic of this place feels like mine.”
“We share this valley,” the other adult countered, keeping the young one wrapped safely in his tail.
“It will be mine.” Black Hole pierced him with his burning red gaze. “Too long I have suffered. Alone and outcast, unlike any other creature around me. I clawed my way through my life. I survived because I am strong enough to take what I need to survive! Now I see that my kind have lived here, together. You are soft and coddled. Get out of my way, or face my teeth!”
Black Hole leapt at the startled Pykiin, who fell back to avoid harm to the child or the other Pykiins who were creeping out to look at this strange newcomer. “Look out!” he said, backpeddling.
Black Hole stalked forward, intent on the Pykiin in front of him as his prey. These soft, plump creatures who dared to look like him would face his wrath. There would be no way they could stand up to he, who had to fight every day of his life just to survive.
Suddenly the dark Pykiin was distracted. It seemed as if a soft voice was calling on the wind. He turned and looked up at the large tree that dominated the valley. Its branches swayed, tantalizing, as the other Pykiin turned and ran, pushing the youngster and the others to get far away from this confusing new threat.
Black Hole was no longer interested in testing his claws on his fellows. He began making his slow way toward the massive tree. The branches seemed to move more urgently in the wind, perhaps trying to be a diversion so the other Pykiin could get to safety. The thought amused Black Hole.
A thunder of hoofbeats drew him up short, and he stopped as a strange winged horse galloped in front of the tree. She reared up protectively, neighing in outrage. “Get back!” she shouted, her front hooves slashing the air.
Black Hole’s tail swayed side to side, like a cat intent on its mouse. He sprang.
Quickly Tree-Speaker leapt sideways to avoid the outstretched claws. Without hesitation, Black Hole climbed the tree. His claws left deep gouges in the soft wood, and though he didn’t care to notice, the marks left behind filled with pale red liquid that could have been sap or blood.
In an instant Black Hole was in the boughs of the Dryad’s tree. He clawed the branches as he climbed, trying to swipe at the fragile fruit that dangled. Each time, the wind seemed to twist the limb out of his reach. He yowled his fury. He wanted nothing more than to smash each and every fruit, somehow sensing that this would cause the most heartache to this valley of shamefully soft creatures.
Suddenly a hiss diverted Black Hole. He turned and looked up as a large, scaly head burst through the trailing leaves around him. The Pykiin hissed and tried to strike at this new opponent, but the lizard’s head was mounted on a long, supple neck that twisted and twined just like the branches did in the breeze. Flashing fangs tried repeatedly to drive Black Hole off his branch, but he clung with his own claws buried in the wood and fought back with his own small but sharp teeth.
The battle seemed to be at a standstill, with only the tree suffering wounds. . . .
To Be Continued!
(I was going for originality, not realism, heh heh.)
(And now, for the stunning conclusion!)Tree-Speaker ran toward the huddled mass of Pykiin, taking refuge under a nearby tree. “Is everyone all right?” she panted.
The adult male nodded. “Who is that?” he murmured, gazing up at the rustling branches of the great tree. His feet itched to run to the Dryad’s rescue, but he worried about the little Pykiin cowering around his feet. He already knew this stranger would attack them. He had to protect them.
Several other adults stepped forward, their faces twisted into growls, teeth bared. “What’s he doing to the Dryad?!” snapped one of the females.
Tree-Speaker fluttered her wings, anxious. “We’re not sure who he is, or where he came from. The Dryad sensed his intentions and called an old friend to help us.”
“That’s some friend,” muttered the male, watching the thick scales coil around and through the Dryad’s tree. There was no sight of the end of the creature, just one long and continuous snake-like body hidden in the trees. Once in a while a head of flashing fangs would burst through the foliage, tangled with the black creature that had intruded upon the valley.
“We have to help!” said the Pykiin. He looked at his friends. “Some of us need to stay here and protect the others. Some adults, volunteer to come with me!”
He puffed with pride as several larger adults immediately took a step forward, not hesitating at all to protect their friends and the great Dryad. The rest clustered around the base of the tree, holding back the foolhardy youngsters who also wanted to help. As pure and honest as their feelings were, no younglings would fight in this battle.
“Come on!” he encouraged, streaking across the grass. The volunteers followed him, a colorful array of creatures running across the grass to the Dryad’s aid, followed by Tree-Speaker.
Black Hole continued to dodge the great serpentine head, but he knew he was tiring. It didn’t help that the branches conspired against him, moving at the last moment so that he lost his footing, whipping in the wind to strike him in the eye, tangling him in vines so he couldn’t dodge the serpent’s strikes.
At that moment he heard angry shouts, and glanced down through the tree branches. Other Pykiin were running toward the fight. It figured that it had only taken them a little while to mobilize. He growled as he realized the serpent had been a diversion.
Black Hole knew when to cut his losses. He leaped down from the tree, bouncing from branch to branch and dodging coils of snake thrust at him to trip him up. He landed on all fours at the base just as his fellows were nearing.
The black Pykiin sneered. “We’ll finish this another day!” he announced to the approaching Pykiin. Before they grew close enough to strike, he turned tail and streaked across the grass, heading out of the valley. Several of the adults made to follow him, while the others drew up, panting, at the base of the Dryad’s tree.
“Let him leave!” The male ordered to the ones that were following. “We don’t want him to draw us out of our valley. For now, everyone is safe.” He twisted his head up and looked up into the tree. “Thank you for your assistance,” he said.
The sleek serpent’s head appeared. “It was a pleasure,” he rumbled, then withdrew. Slowly the coils retracted from the great tree’s trunk.
Tree-Speaker tilted her head, listening. Suddenly she grew quiet. “He is a creature of little words,” she spoke in the Dryad’s voice, “but he helped save us this day.”
“He won’t be forgotten,” the male Pykiin said. “And neither will that dark creature. If there are Pykiin outside the valley like him . . . what else could be out there?”
Tree-Speaker answered in her own voice. “More than we can ever imagine, I’m sure,” she said.
Oh man I cannot write... X3
