Birds of Prey
Two beings inhabit The Dome.
They are Barciro and The Wikler.
The witch doctor is woken by the distant scream of a pair eagles. An osprey’s shriek follows this scream, but ‘tis not a shriek of war. Discerning the purpose of the shriek will have to wait, though; the time for Lúaloch to rise is not yet upon Monksville. Bright golden rays still ignite the floor of his hollow, but the owl is not a meek homemaker – this tree hollow has levels, and Lúaloch sleeps soundly in his raised nest at the top where darkness encroaches even on the brightest of summer days. Still… perhaps he should up and rise. He’s to attend a meeting with royalty, after all.
Last night’s gamehunting endeavor was a successful one. Moments after Lúaloch emerged from his hollow he heard the unmistakable thump’thump of the beating of a ‘munkie’s heart from below. He slowly glanced down and, son of a munk’, there it was, just sitting there panting. It tried to make a move for one of the many holes in the long pile of rocks when it noticed the phantasm descending from above, but the owl was too fast. The owl is always too fast. Had it the brains the ‘munkie would have rejoiced – its cycle had been brought one flap closer to completion, and soon the inland giant village would grow a healthy crop.
The owl’s tree stands at the end of a long wall of piled rocks, likely left behind by whoever lived here before the current tribe of giants claimed their residence from the strange cloaked beings. The owl’s lived in this valley ever since it was an actual valley and he never saw those two cloaks before the day the giants appeared from below the waterfall. They didn’t possess a malignant aura, yet their presence felt off all the same. Displaced, one could say, or perhaps unstuck. Or perhaps they lived here all along and they simply evaded the eyes of the old witch doctor, it’s surely possible. Tremendously unlikely, believe you me, but possible; only one denizen in these forests has been known to evade the owl, a landwalker of a tan coat, its tail the length of its body, its eyes a ghostly yellow-green.
But that beast hasn’t shown its face for many’a cycle. There is a new beast in the valley today, that much is sure, but The Beast has no quarrel with the owl. Lúaloch is a wingflapper and The Beast is a lakebreather, and that’s all the witch doctor needs to know on the subject.
Lúaloch nods off, not entirely on purpose. The Lord of The Sticks is left to wait.
This has been the eleventh subchapter of the second chapter of The Monksville Chronicles. Here is everything you need to know about it:
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If you’re there, hypothetical reader, thank you for being there. From this day on, we move forever forward~