Post by Stranger on Jan 3, 2011 18:48:07 GMT -8
If someone had told her a year ago that she would one day live in a mostly inaccessible highland area, be occupied with what was essentially killing for a living and be telepathically linked to a beast destined to make over twelve of her in size when grown, she would have shucked the person in the head and told him to go sleep off the effects of last night's beer. Or fed him to Fang, whichever was convenient.
Unfortunately however, that was exactly what had happened. But looking back at the sleek, elegant form now stalking towards her, R'iner could not but smile. When Portemmorreph claimed her at the hatching, her first move had been to check the chick's feet as she might a foal, looking for twisted talons or some other abnormally that might explain the odd clumsiness she had displayed throughout. The poor thing would have a hard time of things if she continued this way; were she a horse, some breeder might even have taken the easy way out and simply put her down. It was tough, but a horse that couldn't keep its feet was bound to a hard life. The same went for most animals, and none knew it better than the hardened horse breeder who had lived with creatures since her birth.
Nothing presented itself beyond those rather large feet however, and with her usual tenacity R'iner consigned herself to working the clumsiness out of her new companion. The extraordinary pulse of emotion she felt for the hapless chick would allow her to do no less: what she would have done for one of her horses went doubly so for the simourv hatchling she now loved more than she had ever known she could after Rosa's death. Under her instruction Portemmorreph took her steps slowly at all times, giving her mincing strides thought and consideration, correcting her impulse to fly and hence trip headfirst over her own feet into whatever happened to be in front of her. The main work was in getting the youngster to be aware of herself and her own movements, and to this end R'iner had to be almost constantly conscious to her state of mind, pushing the hatchling endlessly to recall she was a pony-sized beast with four legs that were disproportionate to her size, and a swiping tail that needed constant coordination to prevent her from tripping through mere over-balance.
It worked, gradually, even if there were some who laughed at the pair walking tireless rounds on the canyon floor and made butt jokes about the broken feathers on Portemmorreph's tail and wingtips. She still went down at least once every day, mostly from forgetting herself in excitement or curiosity, but in the two weeks since the hatching she had cut the number of tumbles by almost a third. Still far from perfect, but practice made perfect; and even though the natural growth process might eventually even out Portemmorreph's proportions and solve her clumciness, R'iner had every intention of helping her succeed at moving properly.
And even as shades fell on the Eyrie now with the coming of night they were at it again on the canyon floor, following on a well-worn path in the snow as Portemmorreph paced and R'iner kept up alongside. Snow provided an added challenge to the task - alertness was natural when it came to plowing through something so powdery, and its necessity made it easier for R'iner to keep her hatchling focused on keeping her feet beneath her.
This place is empty, Mine, the brush of the green's mind sent a shiver down her spine as it usually did. It had been nearly a week before it stopped jarring her mind to hear the hatchling speak, a struggle to reconcile the loss of her most private and personal feelings with the surges of joy whenever the young one addressed her. Speaking back had been an even bigger battle. R'iner was well familiar with the non-verbal signals of her horses. To them she spoke with the soft touch of her hands, the angry squaring of her shoulders, or just the sense of her natural empathy for creatures in general. With Portemmorreph however, she spoke with words; and not just spoken ones, but mental ones as well. And she was just beginning to understand how the tones of her green hatchling's feelings affected her moods.
Portemmorreph slid to a halt before her, feathers fluffed against the cold, and warbled, The people are going in and you're getting cold. Shall we too? I'm tired...and I didn't fall down today!
Her tongue lolled out happily at the thought. R'iner smiled as she sent a mental note of assurance to her hatchling. Yes, she was cold, but it really wasn't all that bad. She rubbed the underjaw with one hand, her eyes scanning the hatchling's frame - Portemmorreph was beginning to fill out, perhaps as much from growth as from the daily excursions in the snow, building muscle and balance against her clumsiness. Or perhaps it was just the cold, causing her feathers to fluff out. Her chick was large for her size, that much was apparent at first glance; if she grew at the same rate as the rest and met with no growth difficulties, she would be a green of size as well. Her eyes, travelling back to the hatchling's head, fell on the small black heart on her cheek. Grinning, she ran her half-fingered left hand over it. The green crooned at the hand at her jaw, then lowered her head and bumped R'iner's shoulder.
Mine, I'm hungry!
R'iner nodded; her pulse of mental agreement reached Portemmorreph first. It was a second and an effort later before the words came ...alright, fine, let's go. Feeding pens first.
Then the brushing, Portemmorreph chirruped as she led the way; a light mental prod kept her wary. Stepping carefully, she meandered back towards the animal shelters, with R'iner trailing behind, one hand on the feathered flank for warmth.
Unfortunately however, that was exactly what had happened. But looking back at the sleek, elegant form now stalking towards her, R'iner could not but smile. When Portemmorreph claimed her at the hatching, her first move had been to check the chick's feet as she might a foal, looking for twisted talons or some other abnormally that might explain the odd clumsiness she had displayed throughout. The poor thing would have a hard time of things if she continued this way; were she a horse, some breeder might even have taken the easy way out and simply put her down. It was tough, but a horse that couldn't keep its feet was bound to a hard life. The same went for most animals, and none knew it better than the hardened horse breeder who had lived with creatures since her birth.
Nothing presented itself beyond those rather large feet however, and with her usual tenacity R'iner consigned herself to working the clumsiness out of her new companion. The extraordinary pulse of emotion she felt for the hapless chick would allow her to do no less: what she would have done for one of her horses went doubly so for the simourv hatchling she now loved more than she had ever known she could after Rosa's death. Under her instruction Portemmorreph took her steps slowly at all times, giving her mincing strides thought and consideration, correcting her impulse to fly and hence trip headfirst over her own feet into whatever happened to be in front of her. The main work was in getting the youngster to be aware of herself and her own movements, and to this end R'iner had to be almost constantly conscious to her state of mind, pushing the hatchling endlessly to recall she was a pony-sized beast with four legs that were disproportionate to her size, and a swiping tail that needed constant coordination to prevent her from tripping through mere over-balance.
It worked, gradually, even if there were some who laughed at the pair walking tireless rounds on the canyon floor and made butt jokes about the broken feathers on Portemmorreph's tail and wingtips. She still went down at least once every day, mostly from forgetting herself in excitement or curiosity, but in the two weeks since the hatching she had cut the number of tumbles by almost a third. Still far from perfect, but practice made perfect; and even though the natural growth process might eventually even out Portemmorreph's proportions and solve her clumciness, R'iner had every intention of helping her succeed at moving properly.
And even as shades fell on the Eyrie now with the coming of night they were at it again on the canyon floor, following on a well-worn path in the snow as Portemmorreph paced and R'iner kept up alongside. Snow provided an added challenge to the task - alertness was natural when it came to plowing through something so powdery, and its necessity made it easier for R'iner to keep her hatchling focused on keeping her feet beneath her.
This place is empty, Mine, the brush of the green's mind sent a shiver down her spine as it usually did. It had been nearly a week before it stopped jarring her mind to hear the hatchling speak, a struggle to reconcile the loss of her most private and personal feelings with the surges of joy whenever the young one addressed her. Speaking back had been an even bigger battle. R'iner was well familiar with the non-verbal signals of her horses. To them she spoke with the soft touch of her hands, the angry squaring of her shoulders, or just the sense of her natural empathy for creatures in general. With Portemmorreph however, she spoke with words; and not just spoken ones, but mental ones as well. And she was just beginning to understand how the tones of her green hatchling's feelings affected her moods.
Portemmorreph slid to a halt before her, feathers fluffed against the cold, and warbled, The people are going in and you're getting cold. Shall we too? I'm tired...and I didn't fall down today!
Her tongue lolled out happily at the thought. R'iner smiled as she sent a mental note of assurance to her hatchling. Yes, she was cold, but it really wasn't all that bad. She rubbed the underjaw with one hand, her eyes scanning the hatchling's frame - Portemmorreph was beginning to fill out, perhaps as much from growth as from the daily excursions in the snow, building muscle and balance against her clumsiness. Or perhaps it was just the cold, causing her feathers to fluff out. Her chick was large for her size, that much was apparent at first glance; if she grew at the same rate as the rest and met with no growth difficulties, she would be a green of size as well. Her eyes, travelling back to the hatchling's head, fell on the small black heart on her cheek. Grinning, she ran her half-fingered left hand over it. The green crooned at the hand at her jaw, then lowered her head and bumped R'iner's shoulder.
Mine, I'm hungry!
R'iner nodded; her pulse of mental agreement reached Portemmorreph first. It was a second and an effort later before the words came ...alright, fine, let's go. Feeding pens first.
Then the brushing, Portemmorreph chirruped as she led the way; a light mental prod kept her wary. Stepping carefully, she meandered back towards the animal shelters, with R'iner trailing behind, one hand on the feathered flank for warmth.
