Right, idk why I didn't already have it in there. https://picrew.me/image_maker/94097
Anna's Artists Chat Thread
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Chapter 15 Safe is Never Free
The savanna wasn’t very wide. The forest on the western side of the savanna was different from what Peregrine had always known. It began with aspens rattling their dry leaves and transitioned into older, shade-loving trees again.
As Peregrine threaded through a forest very similar to that of his home, a disquieting question presented itself to him.
“Feron?” he asked. Peregrine still didn’t totally trust the ex-senator, but Feron seemed like his most venerable ally.
“What is it, Peregrine?” Feron asked.
“Amara didn’t seem to think so, but is what the blackbirds said true? Safe is never free. If the red canaries continue to live the way they do, they’ll be safe from harm, but never free.”
“I think that we can find wisdom in what we always pass off as ‘simple’ creatures. The blackbirds speak the truth. The safer you are, the more liberty you give up. Living in huts, we lower our access to the world, killing our predators, we limit our access to adventure. Sometimes, I wonder, is living with dangerous things around us such a bad thing? If you don’t become a slave to your fear, living in a world full of fearful things, maybe that is true freedom.”
“And that’s why we have to go to the Capitol,” said Peregrine. “It sounds as though we could die trying, but we have to attempt it. For freedom.”
-
In the afternoon, golden sunlight shone through the birches, elms and oaks became the prominent trees of the forest. The forest was brighter than it had been before, long shadows casting themselves to the companions’ backs.
Most exciting, sweet canary voices rose from the trees beyond. The travelers forgot about their heavy burdens as they rushed ahead to meet the voices. Peregrine didn’t feel any fear entering that city, despite Amara and Grackle’s words. He just felt confused, and as he rushed towards the sunlight, he wondered how a small bird like him could do anything in such a big place.
Huts hung from the trees like fruit. Canaries called from the branches, but Peregrine was too excited to heed what they were saying. He rushed forward to greet a great open space, a wash of golden sky above, a lake below, sparkling and reflecting the westering sun’s rays.
Trees circled around the lake. It wasn’t a big one, but it was beautiful and dark in color. A thin stream fed it, another left it at the other end. Berry bushes practically crowded to the shore, healthy and cultivated.
Peregrine and his companions hovered over the lake, trying to make sense of their surroundings, blinking in the bright sunlight. Falcon Nest was huge and magnificent, and she seemed to know it, laying out every detail one by one for Peregrine’s inspection, glowing with pride. Peregrine felt patronized, like he was a fledgling on a sightseeing trip, like the city had latched onto his smallness, showed him how he could never have anything to do with her.
Some of the huts around the lake weren’t the kind Peregrine was familiar with. They were built of wood and painted as white as crushed lime, perched on and around the thick branches, topped with high slanting roofs.
On the north side of the lake there was a building that the city revered above the others and relished showing to her guests. It was absolutely palatial, sprawling from branch to branch, perforated with different individual doorways, decorated with black-painted delicate spires and carved wooden figures of birds. Pip’s Palace. The pride of Falcon Nest.
“It’s our capital building now,” Feron explained.
Peregrine felt a claw close around his own. Gia’s claw. Peregrine didn’t know anyone else who could manage to say you’re coming with me no questions asked with one simple gesture. “Me and Peregrine are going to get a closer look,” she said, already dragging Peregrine towards the palace.
Peregrine shot the adults a sheepish grin before flapping alongside Gia. “Isn’t it cool, Gia? Look at those pointy things! They’re so pointy! We should find out who those statues are!”
“Yes we should! We need to look at all the pointy things, all the statues!” Gia crowed. “And then! To go inside!”
Peregrine gulped. “Are you sure we’re allowed?”
“If we’re not allowed, we won’t go in,” said Gia. She had always been a bit warier about this sort of thing since the hawk attack. “I don’t want to make any enemies. But considering what Amara said about the red canary persecution, I wonder if those enemies are already made.”
A large, very enticing platform sat near the center of the asymmetrical feature, walled on three sides by the palace.
In the center of the platform was a carving of a pair of birds, large-as-life, and other statues lined the edges.
The canaries dropped their packs when they landed, gazing at the central statue.
The statue, carved in rich black walnut, was of a bird of unimpressive size, a simple carven crown settled on his head. Next to him was a beautiful female. The inscription below the pair read: King Pip and Queen Andromeada, First King and Queen of the Pip Dynasty. Peregrine stared at the statues, remembering that Queen Andromeada had been a red canary. He glanced at Gia. “When it’s carved like that, you can’t tell the color,” he said.
Gia gazed at “Queen Andromeada.” “It’s cool that her statue’s still here even though the black canaries--well, some of them anyways--want to kill us.”
Peregrine and Gia hopped around the courtyard, glancing from statue to statue, staring at the faces of long-dead kings and queens.
Peregrine was inspecting the statue of “Queen Marylyn” when Gia’s claw arrested his own. This time her claw was shaking. “PEREGRINE! LOOK!” Gia was staring at the sky, and there Peregrine was met with a sinister ken. An organized row of a dozen canaries flew in line, cloaked in black, lead by a bird cloaked in blue. The blue-cloaked-bird’s cloak was pinned with bronze medals that flashed in the sun. The birds approached with swift, measured wingbeats, closer, closer while Peregrine and Gia shot into the air, trying to get up and above. Above the situation. Above impending doom.
The Police. They looked more like a small squadron of soldiers.
They were heavily armed. Each was belted, their belts holding a blowgun and an arsenal of darts. Each held a knife in their claw. Get up! Peregrine flapped his wings, rising upward, with Gia beside him. Up! The air felt too thick to push his wings through, every movement seemed futile with those knives pointed at him.
The blue canary barked his verdict. “Kill the red canary pipsqueak! But I want no harm to come to the black. Knives out, don’t waste ammo on a couple of fledges. Charge!”
The cloaked birds shot towards Gia like black-feathered arrows shooting towards a small red target.
I have to do something, thought Peregrine. His fear and loyalty were at war. I know what heroes in stories always do in situations like this. Gia can’t die without me trying to save her.
“You’ll have to kill...kill me first,” Pergrine stammered, throwing himself bravely in front of his friend.
Most of the birds paused. Couldn’t meet Peregrine’s eyes. Couldn’t continue their charge. They dropped to the platform like stones stopped in their flight, suddenly impotent. Watching.
“Cute,” snorted the blue-cloaked male.
But at least one canary had no qualms for what she was about to do. She didn’t pause for a moment shoving Peregrine aside with a gruff “Out of my way, chick.”
As Peregrine was shoved aside, Gia darted blindly forward, blundered into the back wall of the courtyard, and fell to the ground with a thud.
Cackling, knife-in-bill, the canary swooped and landed on Gia. Pressing her claws on Gia’s wings, the canary pinned Gia with her superior mass. She raised her knife, prepared to slit Gia’s throat.
“Don’t do it or I’ll shoot!” Peregrine kept his voice level.
Gia’s assailant turned, saw Peregrine hovering not far away, and recoiled. Gia managed to squirm away and launched herself into the air. Raised to Peregrine’s bill was a loaded blowgun.
“How did you…?” asked the officer. The answer was obvious. On the ground lay an ammunition belt, twisted like a sad, forlorn snake. Around her waist? No ammunition belt.
Her quarry? Already flying up and away.
Peregrine had left one rather large factor out of his hasty calculations. The other canaries had been lingering around their leader, watching to see what the aggressive female would do. Now that the fledglings were fleeing, the muster of birds flew after them.
Gia was recovering surprisingly well from being at knifepoint. As they flew north over the trees and away from the village as quickly as possible, she was congratulating Peregrine on his skill. “Peregrine! More like Quickclaws! I didn’t know you knew how to use a blo…”
“SHHHHH!” Peregrine said. “I don’t!” he hissed. He tapped the blowgun conspiratorially.
“Anyways, what I mean to say is…” Gia said.
Apparently the squadron leader didn’t think they were a waste of ammunition anymore. Their pursuers were carrying blowguns this time.
“Thank you. For saving my life.” said Gia.
Peregrine never got a chance to reply. Their pursuers were gaining, gaining. Peregrine and Gia were weary young travelers. Their pursuers were soldiers. They were well-fed, well-rested adults. Peregrine willed his sore wings to fly faster, just a bit longer.
Two darts whistled past Peregrine’s head. “GIA!” he screamed.
But two darts had hit their mark, black-feathered darts sinking into Gia’s brown feathers. Gia’s eyes widened; she slowed her flapping.
As Gia wavered and dropped like a stone, crashing through the canopy of trees, down to the forest floor, Peregrine edged over into hysteria. He began laughing. They’re getting what they want. All they want is black feathers in those brown ones. They’re getting what they want.
His laughter morphed into heaving sobs. Between the gasps, Peregrine could barely flap his wings enough to keep himself aloft. Gia can’t just die! She didn’t just die!
Peregrine followed Gia’s lead. He dropped like a stone. Fell through the canopy, numb to the jabbing, poking sticks. Fell past the trunk. Remembered his mortality. Pulled up at the last moment, just brushing the ferns. He had to see Gia’s body.
The savanna wasn’t very wide. The forest on the western side of the savanna was different from what Peregrine had always known. It began with aspens rattling their dry leaves and transitioned into older, shade-loving trees again.
As Peregrine threaded through a forest very similar to that of his home, a disquieting question presented itself to him.
“Feron?” he asked. Peregrine still didn’t totally trust the ex-senator, but Feron seemed like his most venerable ally.
“What is it, Peregrine?” Feron asked.
“Amara didn’t seem to think so, but is what the blackbirds said true? Safe is never free. If the red canaries continue to live the way they do, they’ll be safe from harm, but never free.”
“I think that we can find wisdom in what we always pass off as ‘simple’ creatures. The blackbirds speak the truth. The safer you are, the more liberty you give up. Living in huts, we lower our access to the world, killing our predators, we limit our access to adventure. Sometimes, I wonder, is living with dangerous things around us such a bad thing? If you don’t become a slave to your fear, living in a world full of fearful things, maybe that is true freedom.”
“And that’s why we have to go to the Capitol,” said Peregrine. “It sounds as though we could die trying, but we have to attempt it. For freedom.”
-
In the afternoon, golden sunlight shone through the birches, elms and oaks became the prominent trees of the forest. The forest was brighter than it had been before, long shadows casting themselves to the companions’ backs.
Most exciting, sweet canary voices rose from the trees beyond. The travelers forgot about their heavy burdens as they rushed ahead to meet the voices. Peregrine didn’t feel any fear entering that city, despite Amara and Grackle’s words. He just felt confused, and as he rushed towards the sunlight, he wondered how a small bird like him could do anything in such a big place.
Huts hung from the trees like fruit. Canaries called from the branches, but Peregrine was too excited to heed what they were saying. He rushed forward to greet a great open space, a wash of golden sky above, a lake below, sparkling and reflecting the westering sun’s rays.
Trees circled around the lake. It wasn’t a big one, but it was beautiful and dark in color. A thin stream fed it, another left it at the other end. Berry bushes practically crowded to the shore, healthy and cultivated.
Peregrine and his companions hovered over the lake, trying to make sense of their surroundings, blinking in the bright sunlight. Falcon Nest was huge and magnificent, and she seemed to know it, laying out every detail one by one for Peregrine’s inspection, glowing with pride. Peregrine felt patronized, like he was a fledgling on a sightseeing trip, like the city had latched onto his smallness, showed him how he could never have anything to do with her.
Some of the huts around the lake weren’t the kind Peregrine was familiar with. They were built of wood and painted as white as crushed lime, perched on and around the thick branches, topped with high slanting roofs.
On the north side of the lake there was a building that the city revered above the others and relished showing to her guests. It was absolutely palatial, sprawling from branch to branch, perforated with different individual doorways, decorated with black-painted delicate spires and carved wooden figures of birds. Pip’s Palace. The pride of Falcon Nest.
“It’s our capital building now,” Feron explained.
Peregrine felt a claw close around his own. Gia’s claw. Peregrine didn’t know anyone else who could manage to say you’re coming with me no questions asked with one simple gesture. “Me and Peregrine are going to get a closer look,” she said, already dragging Peregrine towards the palace.
Peregrine shot the adults a sheepish grin before flapping alongside Gia. “Isn’t it cool, Gia? Look at those pointy things! They’re so pointy! We should find out who those statues are!”
“Yes we should! We need to look at all the pointy things, all the statues!” Gia crowed. “And then! To go inside!”
Peregrine gulped. “Are you sure we’re allowed?”
“If we’re not allowed, we won’t go in,” said Gia. She had always been a bit warier about this sort of thing since the hawk attack. “I don’t want to make any enemies. But considering what Amara said about the red canary persecution, I wonder if those enemies are already made.”
A large, very enticing platform sat near the center of the asymmetrical feature, walled on three sides by the palace.
In the center of the platform was a carving of a pair of birds, large-as-life, and other statues lined the edges.
The canaries dropped their packs when they landed, gazing at the central statue.
The statue, carved in rich black walnut, was of a bird of unimpressive size, a simple carven crown settled on his head. Next to him was a beautiful female. The inscription below the pair read: King Pip and Queen Andromeada, First King and Queen of the Pip Dynasty. Peregrine stared at the statues, remembering that Queen Andromeada had been a red canary. He glanced at Gia. “When it’s carved like that, you can’t tell the color,” he said.
Gia gazed at “Queen Andromeada.” “It’s cool that her statue’s still here even though the black canaries--well, some of them anyways--want to kill us.”
Peregrine and Gia hopped around the courtyard, glancing from statue to statue, staring at the faces of long-dead kings and queens.
Peregrine was inspecting the statue of “Queen Marylyn” when Gia’s claw arrested his own. This time her claw was shaking. “PEREGRINE! LOOK!” Gia was staring at the sky, and there Peregrine was met with a sinister ken. An organized row of a dozen canaries flew in line, cloaked in black, lead by a bird cloaked in blue. The blue-cloaked-bird’s cloak was pinned with bronze medals that flashed in the sun. The birds approached with swift, measured wingbeats, closer, closer while Peregrine and Gia shot into the air, trying to get up and above. Above the situation. Above impending doom.
The Police. They looked more like a small squadron of soldiers.
They were heavily armed. Each was belted, their belts holding a blowgun and an arsenal of darts. Each held a knife in their claw. Get up! Peregrine flapped his wings, rising upward, with Gia beside him. Up! The air felt too thick to push his wings through, every movement seemed futile with those knives pointed at him.
The blue canary barked his verdict. “Kill the red canary pipsqueak! But I want no harm to come to the black. Knives out, don’t waste ammo on a couple of fledges. Charge!”
The cloaked birds shot towards Gia like black-feathered arrows shooting towards a small red target.
I have to do something, thought Peregrine. His fear and loyalty were at war. I know what heroes in stories always do in situations like this. Gia can’t die without me trying to save her.
“You’ll have to kill...kill me first,” Pergrine stammered, throwing himself bravely in front of his friend.
Most of the birds paused. Couldn’t meet Peregrine’s eyes. Couldn’t continue their charge. They dropped to the platform like stones stopped in their flight, suddenly impotent. Watching.
“Cute,” snorted the blue-cloaked male.
But at least one canary had no qualms for what she was about to do. She didn’t pause for a moment shoving Peregrine aside with a gruff “Out of my way, chick.”
As Peregrine was shoved aside, Gia darted blindly forward, blundered into the back wall of the courtyard, and fell to the ground with a thud.
Cackling, knife-in-bill, the canary swooped and landed on Gia. Pressing her claws on Gia’s wings, the canary pinned Gia with her superior mass. She raised her knife, prepared to slit Gia’s throat.
“Don’t do it or I’ll shoot!” Peregrine kept his voice level.
Gia’s assailant turned, saw Peregrine hovering not far away, and recoiled. Gia managed to squirm away and launched herself into the air. Raised to Peregrine’s bill was a loaded blowgun.
“How did you…?” asked the officer. The answer was obvious. On the ground lay an ammunition belt, twisted like a sad, forlorn snake. Around her waist? No ammunition belt.
Her quarry? Already flying up and away.
Peregrine had left one rather large factor out of his hasty calculations. The other canaries had been lingering around their leader, watching to see what the aggressive female would do. Now that the fledglings were fleeing, the muster of birds flew after them.
Gia was recovering surprisingly well from being at knifepoint. As they flew north over the trees and away from the village as quickly as possible, she was congratulating Peregrine on his skill. “Peregrine! More like Quickclaws! I didn’t know you knew how to use a blo…”
“SHHHHH!” Peregrine said. “I don’t!” he hissed. He tapped the blowgun conspiratorially.
“Anyways, what I mean to say is…” Gia said.
Apparently the squadron leader didn’t think they were a waste of ammunition anymore. Their pursuers were carrying blowguns this time.
“Thank you. For saving my life.” said Gia.
Peregrine never got a chance to reply. Their pursuers were gaining, gaining. Peregrine and Gia were weary young travelers. Their pursuers were soldiers. They were well-fed, well-rested adults. Peregrine willed his sore wings to fly faster, just a bit longer.
Two darts whistled past Peregrine’s head. “GIA!” he screamed.
But two darts had hit their mark, black-feathered darts sinking into Gia’s brown feathers. Gia’s eyes widened; she slowed her flapping.
As Gia wavered and dropped like a stone, crashing through the canopy of trees, down to the forest floor, Peregrine edged over into hysteria. He began laughing. They’re getting what they want. All they want is black feathers in those brown ones. They’re getting what they want.
His laughter morphed into heaving sobs. Between the gasps, Peregrine could barely flap his wings enough to keep himself aloft. Gia can’t just die! She didn’t just die!
Peregrine followed Gia’s lead. He dropped like a stone. Fell through the canopy, numb to the jabbing, poking sticks. Fell past the trunk. Remembered his mortality. Pulled up at the last moment, just brushing the ferns. He had to see Gia’s body.
Guess I'm the only one who still posts here. But there's more. I have the chapter with the innermost cave of the hero's journey.
Chapter 16 You might have Guessed This Would Happen
It was quiet in the forest. Not a creature in sight. Peregrine felt like the loneliest bird in the world. Well, there was Gia. Peregrine stared at the brown body, laid on its back, shadowed, barely visible against the forest mulch.
“‘Thank you. For saving my life,’” Peregrine whispered. Peregrine felt very tired. The trials and labors of his long journey seemed to weigh themselves on his chest. It felt like he was weighted to the ground, like he would sink through the earth if he didn’t keep willing his trembling knees to hold him up.
“Thank you. For saving my life. Those were her last words. Little good that did. All that work, and what did it amount to? NOTHING! A DEAD FRIEND!” His voice rose to a shrill squeak, breaking at the end. He looked down at Gia’s feathers, the brown ones, the rare red ones. He plucked the black-feathered darts from her breast. Gia was breathing heavily.
“She’s ALIVE? She’s ALIVE?”
“She’s alive. We were just waiting to see your reaction.” A soft voice. Peregrine looked up and was suddenly aware of five canaries perched in the branches, their dark, cloaked forms barely visible in the trees. “Tranquilizer darts. Wouldn’t want to shoot anything lethal with precious black canary civilians around, would we? It’s a bit easier to explain to their families then, when they wind up asleep. I should dart you too, after all the trouble you’ve caused. I’m duly impressed, of course. You’d make an excellent Officer someday. With a little training, you’d make an excellent addition to the squad. We’ll need the help of even the young in our mission.”
A slim, dove-grey canary floated to the forest floor, circling down, her cape floating around her. Her comrades followed like shadows. The blue-cloaked canary was noticeably absent. The bird who had attacked Gia before shot glares at Gia, but her pride was obviously injured enough that she let the grey canary lead the assault. The grey canary smiled. “Now. It’s time to finish the job.”
She landed on the ground, the other officers landing in a circle around Peregrine and Gia.
She removed a knife from her belt, held it firmly in her beak. Its steel blade reflected the bare bit of light that managed to reach the forest floor.
“I wouldn’t try that if I were you.” A voice emerged from behind a fern. Joey’s voice.
The grey canary narrowed her eyes. “Who are you?”
Joey thrust over the fern and landed beside the grey female.
The grey canary snorted. “Delicious! One of you mottled mutts. A shrimpy one too. What are you gonna do? It’s still two against five.”
“This.” Joey picked up a tranquilizer dart and thrust it into her side, faster than a striking snake. The grey canary gasped, stiffened, and slumped to the ground. The quiet Officers gasped.
Joey pried the knife from her beak with his own. “I have a knife!” he announced, squaring his stance.
Peregrine’s respect for Joey grew all the more. He plucked up a dart, holding it gingerly in his beak. “I have a dart!” he said, trying to speak through a mouthful of feathers.
The birds surrounding him laughed and raised their knives. Peregrine decided to drop the dart.
“We should probably scram,” Joey suggested. Peregrine and Joey shot out of the circle and flew into the air above.
“What do we do about Gia?” Peregrine asked. He landed on a branch, staring anxiously at where she lay, helpless as a fawn among circling wolves.
Two cloaked shapes burst onto the scene.
The officers turned, confused by the strangers wearing their colors. Feron they almost would have accepted as their own, but Pearl was clearly bright, flashing red, even in the deep shade.
Pearl shot forward, holding a knife in her claw.
“I’m not about to let her face them alone,” said Joey.
Pearl landed on the back of an officer and with the thrust of a knife killed him. Just like that, Peregrine witnessed his first death. If only it had been his last. As Peregrine watched the bird fall, he could barely crack his eyelids enough to watch anymore.
There are soldiers who’ve died after killing dozens, soldiers who’ve died after killing hundreds, and there are soldiers who’ve died free. Free of any honor. Free of any guilt. Dying before they manage to fell a single man. Such was Joey’s death.
Joey, diving with his stolen knife, was immediately stabbed in the heart by an officer. The soft thud of his body against the litter on the ground rang like a death knell in Peregrine’s heart. Thud.
Peregrine landed beside the body of his fallen friend, still twitching in the throes of death. Peregrine was helpless, unable to do anything to stop the twitching, knowing that this time, the death was real. Feron hovered in the air, anger and grief brewing within him like a storm.
The three standing officers were aiming at Pearl, who was now hopping away from them, her own knife now poised only on the defensive. Feron dove through the melee and landed on the grey canary, ripping the ammunition belt off with his beak. One of Pearl’s pursuers diverged, stabbing towards Feron with her knife. “Peregrine! Catch!” With a flap of his wings and a flick of his beak, Feron was hopping nimbly away from his pursuer and the ammunition belt was flying towards Peregrine.
Peregrine caught it in his beak, dropping the ammunition belt, holding up the blowpipe, and loading it quicker than he ever would have in a less charged situation. But his instinctual swiftness didn’t change the fact that he didn’t know how to use the blowpipe.
Maybe it will distract them from Pearl just long enough… he thought, lifting it to his beak. Just long enough to do what? Eyes flashed towards him, a canary turned and stared, knife in beak, torn between challenger and victim. Peregrine took a deep breath.
Just blow. Peregrine blew as hard as he could, willing the dart to sail towards its intended target. By pure luck, it did. The canary fell.
Pearl and Feron’s attackers froze. Somehow, three of their fellows were either unconscious or dead. Despite the fact that only one of their enemies had been armed at the beginning. But now they were. Pearl and Feron held knives and Peregrine held a blowgun, somehow managing to look formidable. Pearl stabbed her shellshocked enemy, killing him too. Now there was only one bird, jaw dropping. He flew away, not wanting to tempt fate.
Peregrine, Pearl, and Feron stood surrounded by bodies. Peregrine dropped his blowpipe. Feron threw away his knife like it was poison. Pearl looked like she wanted to do the same with her own. Instead, she wiped it clean and set it in her belt. The three birds stared at Joey’s lifeless body. Peregrine’s idol, shattered.
Feron unpinned his black cloak and cast it over Joey, dropping his beautiful silver swirl pin on top. “He would have made a great senator one day,” he whispered.
Feron gazed at the body for a while, eyes filled with some kind of longing, filled with I don’t want to leave him behind. “We cannot bury him. We don’t have time.”
“The most we can do is hope that these ‘Police’ have enough dignity left to do that for us,” said Pearl. She removed her cloak. In the darkness, her feathers were blazing red. Peregrine had never seen her uncloaked before. She wasn’t filled with the fragile beauty of the walnut-carved queen Andromeda, but she was impressive nonetheless, clearly filled with strength. “We should leave as quickly as possible.”
“Where are we going?” Peregrine asked.
“Willowbrush,” Pearl replied sharply. The great red canary city. “Hurry up chick, we can’t have you dawdling.” Pearl’s old snappishness had come back with a vengeance
“But what am I supposed to be doing?” Peregrine asked, injured by her tone.
“Get this cape under Gia! Get to the other side.” Peregrine hopped to Gia’s foot. “No! The other side.” Pearl laid out the cloak beside Gia as Peregrine hopped to Gia’s side.
Pearl came to Peregrine’s side and pushed Gia, while Feron held down the cloak and Peregrine stood dumbly. “Well? Push!” said Pearl.
Peregrine pushed, shocked into action. Gia was moved onto the cloak. Feron grabbed both front corners, Pearl grabbed both of the back ones. Peregrine awkwardly assumed the place in the middle, making sure the edges were properly lifted. They took off. Gia was mercifully light, but it still was laborious to carry and maneuver her.
The procession flew north. All three of them heaved with sobs, making their flight treacherous. Peregrine had never seen Pearl cry before, not even when she heard of her mother’s death. He wondered at this.
“How did you find us?” Peregrine asked. Joey had come before Pearl and Feron, almost like he’d been hiding in that fern the whole time.
“I sent Joey after you,” Feron explained. “Pearl and I saw the officers all gathered around these barracks that were built.”
“Don’t call them officers,” said Pearl. “I know what officers are. Those were soldiers. Murderers. The president’s precious pet killers aimed to wipe out my race. Call them soldiers.” She closed her beak firmly.
“Half-a-dozen soldiers came after us from the side,” explained Feron. “Not from the barracks. They were either patrolling the village or alerted of our presence. Probably both. So we flew north. That’s the direction of Willowbrush. Somewhere along the way, we lost them. By mere chance, we found you. We didn’t know they went after you.”
“Yeah.” Peregrine relayed the events at the statue courtyard.
Feron laughed bitterly. “So Joey was too late to tell you. Still, six birds against two fledglings, and you still managed to escape. I think they underestimated you.”
And Joey is dead, thought Peregrine. Gia lived, at the cost of his life. Peregrine remembered the time someone in Oakland had died “of natural causes.” They sang funeral songs and ate blueberry cakes. They said eulogies and buried the body respectfully. And yet Joey, who died in a brave act, would get no funeral songs, and Peregrine, Feron, and Pearl would get no dinners. No one would say any eulogies, Joey’s body wouldn’t get a respectful burial. If he was buried at all it would be miles from home.
Wait. “Can we sing funeral songs? Do you know any funeral songs?” asked Peregrine. “We should honor Joey’s death.”
“Yes. I know some,” said Feron. “Where the wind blows the river and the shrubbery blooms… Where the kingfishers nest and the cattails grow. Where the wind blows the water slow…”
Peregrine joined him. He knew the old song by heart, though he’d never seen lotuses, kingfishers, or the wind blowing water slow. Canaries sing as naturally as breathing; chicks learn to sing before they learn to speak. “Where the wind blows the water slow… Where eggs will hatch and nestlings fly… Where young otters play in the reeds. Where the wind blows the water slow... ”
“I left my heart…” sang Feron. For all birds, song is the most powerful catharsis. Though the lyrics are usually quite boring, canary music is quite beautiful to hear. Canaries sing to celebrate, and just as much they sing to work through stress and sorrow. Often through song they found themselves able to sort tangled thoughts.
Pearl did not sing, and Peregrine and Feron eventually found themselves reduced to silence. Peregrine’s wings felt light, like they weren’t totally connected to his body. It was all he could do to prevent the Gia Tortilla yeah I don’t know the right word for it from dragging him towards the ground. He was hungry, terribly hungry.
He didn’t say anything, however. He was determined not to become a what is a word for someone who slows others down to his companions.
Pearl finally opened her beak. Her voice had a bitter edge and her brows were furrowed. “I never killed another canary before. My job was to deal with the predators. Worse, some of those birds are probably the kind that I worked with at one time. It’s hard knowing some of those ‘Police’ probably are officers, misled, evil, or forced, one way or another. Those birds I killed might have been doing their jobs, even if it was wrong. They might have had families.”
“Pearl, you had to, ” said Peregrine. “Those birds wanted to kill you and Gia. You saved Gia’s life.”
“I suppose it just proves that us red canaries are monsters and killers, ” said Pearl.
The forest-shadows deepened. As Peregrine and Feron began to sag, a new purpose stiffened Pearl’s shoulders. “We need to find a tree hollow,” she said. “As soon as we find one, it's time to rest. It was soon located, and Gia was laid inside, tangled in Pearl’s cloak like a caterpillar in a cocoon. Peregrine was so exhausted that he dropped down beside her, snuggled up like a chick in a nest, overcome by the sable embrace of sleep.
does anyone actually read these or am I just posting them
It was quiet in the forest. Not a creature in sight. Peregrine felt like the loneliest bird in the world. Well, there was Gia. Peregrine stared at the brown body, laid on its back, shadowed, barely visible against the forest mulch.
“‘Thank you. For saving my life,’” Peregrine whispered. Peregrine felt very tired. The trials and labors of his long journey seemed to weigh themselves on his chest. It felt like he was weighted to the ground, like he would sink through the earth if he didn’t keep willing his trembling knees to hold him up.
“Thank you. For saving my life. Those were her last words. Little good that did. All that work, and what did it amount to? NOTHING! A DEAD FRIEND!” His voice rose to a shrill squeak, breaking at the end. He looked down at Gia’s feathers, the brown ones, the rare red ones. He plucked the black-feathered darts from her breast. Gia was breathing heavily.
“She’s ALIVE? She’s ALIVE?”
“She’s alive. We were just waiting to see your reaction.” A soft voice. Peregrine looked up and was suddenly aware of five canaries perched in the branches, their dark, cloaked forms barely visible in the trees. “Tranquilizer darts. Wouldn’t want to shoot anything lethal with precious black canary civilians around, would we? It’s a bit easier to explain to their families then, when they wind up asleep. I should dart you too, after all the trouble you’ve caused. I’m duly impressed, of course. You’d make an excellent Officer someday. With a little training, you’d make an excellent addition to the squad. We’ll need the help of even the young in our mission.”
A slim, dove-grey canary floated to the forest floor, circling down, her cape floating around her. Her comrades followed like shadows. The blue-cloaked canary was noticeably absent. The bird who had attacked Gia before shot glares at Gia, but her pride was obviously injured enough that she let the grey canary lead the assault. The grey canary smiled. “Now. It’s time to finish the job.”
She landed on the ground, the other officers landing in a circle around Peregrine and Gia.
She removed a knife from her belt, held it firmly in her beak. Its steel blade reflected the bare bit of light that managed to reach the forest floor.
“I wouldn’t try that if I were you.” A voice emerged from behind a fern. Joey’s voice.
The grey canary narrowed her eyes. “Who are you?”
Joey thrust over the fern and landed beside the grey female.
The grey canary snorted. “Delicious! One of you mottled mutts. A shrimpy one too. What are you gonna do? It’s still two against five.”
“This.” Joey picked up a tranquilizer dart and thrust it into her side, faster than a striking snake. The grey canary gasped, stiffened, and slumped to the ground. The quiet Officers gasped.
Joey pried the knife from her beak with his own. “I have a knife!” he announced, squaring his stance.
Peregrine’s respect for Joey grew all the more. He plucked up a dart, holding it gingerly in his beak. “I have a dart!” he said, trying to speak through a mouthful of feathers.
The birds surrounding him laughed and raised their knives. Peregrine decided to drop the dart.
“We should probably scram,” Joey suggested. Peregrine and Joey shot out of the circle and flew into the air above.
“What do we do about Gia?” Peregrine asked. He landed on a branch, staring anxiously at where she lay, helpless as a fawn among circling wolves.
Two cloaked shapes burst onto the scene.
The officers turned, confused by the strangers wearing their colors. Feron they almost would have accepted as their own, but Pearl was clearly bright, flashing red, even in the deep shade.
Pearl shot forward, holding a knife in her claw.
“I’m not about to let her face them alone,” said Joey.
Pearl landed on the back of an officer and with the thrust of a knife killed him. Just like that, Peregrine witnessed his first death. If only it had been his last. As Peregrine watched the bird fall, he could barely crack his eyelids enough to watch anymore.
There are soldiers who’ve died after killing dozens, soldiers who’ve died after killing hundreds, and there are soldiers who’ve died free. Free of any honor. Free of any guilt. Dying before they manage to fell a single man. Such was Joey’s death.
Joey, diving with his stolen knife, was immediately stabbed in the heart by an officer. The soft thud of his body against the litter on the ground rang like a death knell in Peregrine’s heart. Thud.
Peregrine landed beside the body of his fallen friend, still twitching in the throes of death. Peregrine was helpless, unable to do anything to stop the twitching, knowing that this time, the death was real. Feron hovered in the air, anger and grief brewing within him like a storm.
The three standing officers were aiming at Pearl, who was now hopping away from them, her own knife now poised only on the defensive. Feron dove through the melee and landed on the grey canary, ripping the ammunition belt off with his beak. One of Pearl’s pursuers diverged, stabbing towards Feron with her knife. “Peregrine! Catch!” With a flap of his wings and a flick of his beak, Feron was hopping nimbly away from his pursuer and the ammunition belt was flying towards Peregrine.
Peregrine caught it in his beak, dropping the ammunition belt, holding up the blowpipe, and loading it quicker than he ever would have in a less charged situation. But his instinctual swiftness didn’t change the fact that he didn’t know how to use the blowpipe.
Maybe it will distract them from Pearl just long enough… he thought, lifting it to his beak. Just long enough to do what? Eyes flashed towards him, a canary turned and stared, knife in beak, torn between challenger and victim. Peregrine took a deep breath.
Just blow. Peregrine blew as hard as he could, willing the dart to sail towards its intended target. By pure luck, it did. The canary fell.
Pearl and Feron’s attackers froze. Somehow, three of their fellows were either unconscious or dead. Despite the fact that only one of their enemies had been armed at the beginning. But now they were. Pearl and Feron held knives and Peregrine held a blowgun, somehow managing to look formidable. Pearl stabbed her shellshocked enemy, killing him too. Now there was only one bird, jaw dropping. He flew away, not wanting to tempt fate.
Peregrine, Pearl, and Feron stood surrounded by bodies. Peregrine dropped his blowpipe. Feron threw away his knife like it was poison. Pearl looked like she wanted to do the same with her own. Instead, she wiped it clean and set it in her belt. The three birds stared at Joey’s lifeless body. Peregrine’s idol, shattered.
Feron unpinned his black cloak and cast it over Joey, dropping his beautiful silver swirl pin on top. “He would have made a great senator one day,” he whispered.
Feron gazed at the body for a while, eyes filled with some kind of longing, filled with I don’t want to leave him behind. “We cannot bury him. We don’t have time.”
“The most we can do is hope that these ‘Police’ have enough dignity left to do that for us,” said Pearl. She removed her cloak. In the darkness, her feathers were blazing red. Peregrine had never seen her uncloaked before. She wasn’t filled with the fragile beauty of the walnut-carved queen Andromeda, but she was impressive nonetheless, clearly filled with strength. “We should leave as quickly as possible.”
“Where are we going?” Peregrine asked.
“Willowbrush,” Pearl replied sharply. The great red canary city. “Hurry up chick, we can’t have you dawdling.” Pearl’s old snappishness had come back with a vengeance
“But what am I supposed to be doing?” Peregrine asked, injured by her tone.
“Get this cape under Gia! Get to the other side.” Peregrine hopped to Gia’s foot. “No! The other side.” Pearl laid out the cloak beside Gia as Peregrine hopped to Gia’s side.
Pearl came to Peregrine’s side and pushed Gia, while Feron held down the cloak and Peregrine stood dumbly. “Well? Push!” said Pearl.
Peregrine pushed, shocked into action. Gia was moved onto the cloak. Feron grabbed both front corners, Pearl grabbed both of the back ones. Peregrine awkwardly assumed the place in the middle, making sure the edges were properly lifted. They took off. Gia was mercifully light, but it still was laborious to carry and maneuver her.
The procession flew north. All three of them heaved with sobs, making their flight treacherous. Peregrine had never seen Pearl cry before, not even when she heard of her mother’s death. He wondered at this.
“How did you find us?” Peregrine asked. Joey had come before Pearl and Feron, almost like he’d been hiding in that fern the whole time.
“I sent Joey after you,” Feron explained. “Pearl and I saw the officers all gathered around these barracks that were built.”
“Don’t call them officers,” said Pearl. “I know what officers are. Those were soldiers. Murderers. The president’s precious pet killers aimed to wipe out my race. Call them soldiers.” She closed her beak firmly.
“Half-a-dozen soldiers came after us from the side,” explained Feron. “Not from the barracks. They were either patrolling the village or alerted of our presence. Probably both. So we flew north. That’s the direction of Willowbrush. Somewhere along the way, we lost them. By mere chance, we found you. We didn’t know they went after you.”
“Yeah.” Peregrine relayed the events at the statue courtyard.
Feron laughed bitterly. “So Joey was too late to tell you. Still, six birds against two fledglings, and you still managed to escape. I think they underestimated you.”
And Joey is dead, thought Peregrine. Gia lived, at the cost of his life. Peregrine remembered the time someone in Oakland had died “of natural causes.” They sang funeral songs and ate blueberry cakes. They said eulogies and buried the body respectfully. And yet Joey, who died in a brave act, would get no funeral songs, and Peregrine, Feron, and Pearl would get no dinners. No one would say any eulogies, Joey’s body wouldn’t get a respectful burial. If he was buried at all it would be miles from home.
Wait. “Can we sing funeral songs? Do you know any funeral songs?” asked Peregrine. “We should honor Joey’s death.”
“Yes. I know some,” said Feron. “Where the wind blows the river and the shrubbery blooms… Where the kingfishers nest and the cattails grow. Where the wind blows the water slow…”
Peregrine joined him. He knew the old song by heart, though he’d never seen lotuses, kingfishers, or the wind blowing water slow. Canaries sing as naturally as breathing; chicks learn to sing before they learn to speak. “Where the wind blows the water slow… Where eggs will hatch and nestlings fly… Where young otters play in the reeds. Where the wind blows the water slow... ”
“I left my heart…” sang Feron. For all birds, song is the most powerful catharsis. Though the lyrics are usually quite boring, canary music is quite beautiful to hear. Canaries sing to celebrate, and just as much they sing to work through stress and sorrow. Often through song they found themselves able to sort tangled thoughts.
Pearl did not sing, and Peregrine and Feron eventually found themselves reduced to silence. Peregrine’s wings felt light, like they weren’t totally connected to his body. It was all he could do to prevent the Gia Tortilla yeah I don’t know the right word for it from dragging him towards the ground. He was hungry, terribly hungry.
He didn’t say anything, however. He was determined not to become a what is a word for someone who slows others down to his companions.
Pearl finally opened her beak. Her voice had a bitter edge and her brows were furrowed. “I never killed another canary before. My job was to deal with the predators. Worse, some of those birds are probably the kind that I worked with at one time. It’s hard knowing some of those ‘Police’ probably are officers, misled, evil, or forced, one way or another. Those birds I killed might have been doing their jobs, even if it was wrong. They might have had families.”
“Pearl, you had to, ” said Peregrine. “Those birds wanted to kill you and Gia. You saved Gia’s life.”
“I suppose it just proves that us red canaries are monsters and killers, ” said Pearl.
The forest-shadows deepened. As Peregrine and Feron began to sag, a new purpose stiffened Pearl’s shoulders. “We need to find a tree hollow,” she said. “As soon as we find one, it's time to rest. It was soon located, and Gia was laid inside, tangled in Pearl’s cloak like a caterpillar in a cocoon. Peregrine was so exhausted that he dropped down beside her, snuggled up like a chick in a nest, overcome by the sable embrace of sleep.
does anyone actually read these or am I just posting them
Sapphire Sebright
Roman Catholic who won't shut up
- Jun 22, 2019
- 14,414
- 132,406
- 1,376
Yeah. Sorry. I changed him a bit. I went back in the story and made Peregrine first meet him at the red canary colony. But to me he’s always seemed like an extra addition I planned ahead simply because having a mixed canary was logical, so I didn't like him.
Sapphire Sebright
Roman Catholic who won't shut up
- Jun 22, 2019
- 14,414
- 132,406
- 1,376
I understand. Some characters are just destined for death. Makes for an interesting twist in the story.
First six steps of hero’s journey are finished so I’ll post the art. (I did five more but I’ll post them once I do the last. This is for a school project. I hate that in some of them I can’t find backgrounds because nothing like what I describe actually exists and I can’t draw it.
- Thread starter
- #349
these are so fun to make when ur bored
These are hilarious, I need to do this sort of thing with my charries.
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