Birds of Prey
Two beings inhabit The Dome.
They are Barciro and The Wikler.
The Early Birds
A small flock of green-headed mallards are floating in the middle of a ring of dead trees. They think of themselves as The Early Birds; migrating before the onset of winter, while temporarily segregating them from the ladies up north, will come in handy when the first icy flakes start falling. A flight through a snowstorm is not impossible, but that doesn’t quite make it a good time, either, and no mallard can rightly build themselves a nest after landing with fresh ice coating their feathers. That’s not to say The Early Birds have nested yet – they just arrived here this morning, and they’ve not migrated to Monksville ever before – but they’re working on it. A quick dip to rest their tired wings would do the mallards well, at least as far as Rhyac is concerned. He led his flock of fertile males south early based on intuition and nothing else, and his head gets broken at the neck when Lord Hilaetos swoops low and drops a talon at the right moment.
Green feathers run a deep red as the remaining Early Birds scatter frantically to the air without a single quack of mourning shared among them. They will mourn Rhyac later, for now they must flee; the scent of freshly spilled blood often marks the approach of the local vulture flock.
A large tree along the edge of The Sticks, girthier than the perch held by the osprey before he took off, suddenly trembles as if struck by the dome of a large creature deep beneath the surface, a mad creature attracted to the scent of bloody water. Rhyac’s decapitated carcass is not given the chance to rot.
This has been the third subchapter of the second chapter of The Monksville Chronicles. Here is everything you need to know about it:
I’ve written a few other books, too. Click here to see the list.
The Hillside Commons has a Facebook page. Here’s that.
If you’re there, hypothetical reader, thank you for being there. From this day on, we move forever forward~