Post by raehein on Oct 26, 2017 22:44:07 GMT -5
Go tell the bees and go tell em' good that I'm
Dead, gone in the water
And bring me a stone for to rest me old head when I'm
Gone, sleeping, my dear,
The song echoed off the far side of the crater as Kota approached, his gait and the bouncing of his tail serving as a natural metronome. Now and then he would pause to remember more lyrics or to spin one way or the other in an odd kind of dance or, more importantly, to listen for predators. It was only when he stopped for a rest that he realized just how quiet his surroundings had become. He could hear no birds, no distant gekkering foxes, nothing but the low shuffle of silt by the wind now and then as though the crater itself were breathing.
He sniffed the ground as he wandered- the stories he'd been told of this place were burned into his memory and often as a pup he would clear away the grass and insects from an area and dig a little hole in an attempt to visualize it. But now that he stood on the edge of the crater itself, which opened out before him like a great black yawn, he found his juvenile fantasies to be insulting at best.
He took a step, then another, the evening sun casting his shadow long and hateful behind him in the great swathe of orange. A few yards down one side of the crater, Kota stopped to scratch an itch just behind his right ear, though the more he scratched at it, the more irritated it became. He whined uncomfortably, eventually able to free whatever had taken to biting him in such a desolate place, but when he saw what it was he cocked his head. At his feet lay a long, curved black feather, caked in blood along one side.
"What?" he asked, but before he could get a closer look, the entire back of his neck and back began to prickle and burn, starting at the spot where he had scratched out the feather and spreading like a wave and ending at the base of his tail. Kota trembled violently for a moment then threw himself down, screaming and writing in the dirt as the screams of a thousand crows filled his head. He opened his eyes briefly to see his white toes being stretched and broken with a series of muffled cracks as the fur was pushed out of its follicles by layers of dark, leathery scales. The scent of blood became thick as more oily black feathers grew from Kota's back, sloughing off entire patches of matted red fur.
The initial burn was slowly replaced by a dull throb, and while this was just as unwelcome in Kota's opinion, he thought for a moment that it was over. Whatever it was. Just then, a single, rolling yellow eye broke the skin of his forehead as it opened, pouring blood down into his natural eyes and startling him into a faint. He fell into the dirt, which was clumped with blood and clinging to him like a layer of ash. The echoes of his screams were carried away by the wind and as he lay unconscious, the shadow of the crater wall crept up with the setting sun and swallowed him whole.
Dead, gone in the water
And bring me a stone for to rest me old head when I'm
Gone, sleeping, my dear,
The song echoed off the far side of the crater as Kota approached, his gait and the bouncing of his tail serving as a natural metronome. Now and then he would pause to remember more lyrics or to spin one way or the other in an odd kind of dance or, more importantly, to listen for predators. It was only when he stopped for a rest that he realized just how quiet his surroundings had become. He could hear no birds, no distant gekkering foxes, nothing but the low shuffle of silt by the wind now and then as though the crater itself were breathing.
He sniffed the ground as he wandered- the stories he'd been told of this place were burned into his memory and often as a pup he would clear away the grass and insects from an area and dig a little hole in an attempt to visualize it. But now that he stood on the edge of the crater itself, which opened out before him like a great black yawn, he found his juvenile fantasies to be insulting at best.
He took a step, then another, the evening sun casting his shadow long and hateful behind him in the great swathe of orange. A few yards down one side of the crater, Kota stopped to scratch an itch just behind his right ear, though the more he scratched at it, the more irritated it became. He whined uncomfortably, eventually able to free whatever had taken to biting him in such a desolate place, but when he saw what it was he cocked his head. At his feet lay a long, curved black feather, caked in blood along one side.
"What?" he asked, but before he could get a closer look, the entire back of his neck and back began to prickle and burn, starting at the spot where he had scratched out the feather and spreading like a wave and ending at the base of his tail. Kota trembled violently for a moment then threw himself down, screaming and writing in the dirt as the screams of a thousand crows filled his head. He opened his eyes briefly to see his white toes being stretched and broken with a series of muffled cracks as the fur was pushed out of its follicles by layers of dark, leathery scales. The scent of blood became thick as more oily black feathers grew from Kota's back, sloughing off entire patches of matted red fur.
The initial burn was slowly replaced by a dull throb, and while this was just as unwelcome in Kota's opinion, he thought for a moment that it was over. Whatever it was. Just then, a single, rolling yellow eye broke the skin of his forehead as it opened, pouring blood down into his natural eyes and startling him into a faint. He fell into the dirt, which was clumped with blood and clinging to him like a layer of ash. The echoes of his screams were carried away by the wind and as he lay unconscious, the shadow of the crater wall crept up with the setting sun and swallowed him whole.
