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Yay, I made it. Didn't think I would for a while there. ^_^
Title: With Too Much Snow
Fandom: Original
Prompt: Hell hath no fury like...
Warnings: none
Rating: G
Summary: A magic bird wants a pet, so he sets out in the worst of weather.
Winter came with a roar, a blizzard that beset the small town, turning it into a blanket of white. The townspeople all enclosed themselves in their houses, hovering close to fires, trying to keep in what warmth they could. The sharp wind cut through cracks and between sills in windows.
All was silent throughout the town save for the howling of the wind as it ripped through the empty streets. One lone bird remained in the town, huddled in the eves of a barn, his feathers puffed up around his cheeks, making him plump and chubby. He stood on one foot for a bit before switching feet as the first one grew cold, then repeating as the second followed. A small bit of snow landed on his white crested head and he shook himself, fluffing up his feathers more.
He knew that he should have left for her journey sooner, but he had delayed his departure for one too many days. Now he was freezing and likely was stuck here until the storm passed. Which, in this region, could be days yet. Shaking again, he mentally cursed his luck.
The day hadn’t dawned so much as grew slightly brighter with the sun behind the clouds, and night grew even colder, even quieter, so it came as a surprise to the bird when a low rumbling filled the air, traveling along the wind, seemingly along the clouds. Human’s didn’t notice the noise, but there was a lot human’s didn’t notice.
He peered out from the safely of his perch and narrowed his eyes against the wind. There hadn’t been any thunder all day, just snow, so that bit of rumbling was quiet unexpected. Then the thunder came again, long and drawn out and the bird stiffened when he realized that it wasn’t thunder he was hearing.
That was the roar of a dragon.
Shaking snow off his head, the small bird jumped into the wind, pumping his wings madly and fought against the pressure forcing him away from the source of the roar.
He knew better than to fly in a storm. Hell hath no fury like Mother Nature, he knew, but that call, that angry roar, begged him to come investigate. So he will. Chirping quietly, the wind taking the single note and throwing it away from the bird, he summoned magic to him and created an area around him of dead wind to protect him from the storm. He flew into the wind, listening to the roar and following where it led.
He left the town and then the working fields far behind before his body, his magic, begged for a rest and he dropped out of the air and into a tree’s protective embrace. His magic left him and once again the angry winds tore at his feathers. He puffed up and wiggled down, making himself as small as possible.
He was almost nodding off in his cocoon of warmth when he realized that he hadn’t heard the dragon’s roar in a while. If he could, he would have frowned.
Dragons were rare. They had been hunted by humans to near extinction and the bird had so wanted to see one. He chirped angrily to himself and flapped his wings before settling down in the arms of the tree.
While he perched, the night grew late, then early and the wind died down until the snow was falling softly to the ground instead of lashing at everything. The bird perked up and took a look about him and found that something had settled down at the base of the tree. Cocking his head to one side, he glided down to the ground and found that the little something was a part of something much larger hidden inside the hollowed out trunk of the tree.
A long muzzle lay on top two clawed paws and the bird took a quick guess. This wasn’t the dragon that had made the call from last night. That dragon was angry and terrible. It had to have been a giant of a dragon to make that low of a call, for it to carry so far. This one was small, about the size of a large dog, or maybe a very small pony. Its scales were shimmering with melted snow and it’s eyes were half lidded. The bird fancied he could see pain it their dark depths.
He bounced closer and smelt blood. The poor tyke was bleeding, he realized and his natural caregiver attitude took over. He spread his wings and flew into the small burrow and landed on the dragon’s shoulders, magic pouring off him into the wounds.
The dragon slowly lifted his head and turned to look at him, blinking his eyes slowly and dully, as if it were nearly too much effort. He quickly healed the dragon, and took stock of the wounds. Had that other dragon attacked this little one?
The bird puffed up again, this time in anger. And here he had thought that only humans were the ones to cause this type of harm to each other. The dragon’s tongue licked out, touching his bird’s cheek before he turned back around and settled his head on his paws once again, too tired for much else. Too cold, the bird thought, bringing about more magic, this time heat.
The bird settled between the dragon’s claws, right in front of his nostrils and fluffed up his feathers once again, letting a real sleep come over him.
He’d finally found himself a dragon, and the dragon slept on.
Title: With Too Much Snow
Fandom: Original
Prompt: Hell hath no fury like...
Warnings: none
Rating: G
Summary: A magic bird wants a pet, so he sets out in the worst of weather.
Winter came with a roar, a blizzard that beset the small town, turning it into a blanket of white. The townspeople all enclosed themselves in their houses, hovering close to fires, trying to keep in what warmth they could. The sharp wind cut through cracks and between sills in windows.
All was silent throughout the town save for the howling of the wind as it ripped through the empty streets. One lone bird remained in the town, huddled in the eves of a barn, his feathers puffed up around his cheeks, making him plump and chubby. He stood on one foot for a bit before switching feet as the first one grew cold, then repeating as the second followed. A small bit of snow landed on his white crested head and he shook himself, fluffing up his feathers more.
He knew that he should have left for her journey sooner, but he had delayed his departure for one too many days. Now he was freezing and likely was stuck here until the storm passed. Which, in this region, could be days yet. Shaking again, he mentally cursed his luck.
The day hadn’t dawned so much as grew slightly brighter with the sun behind the clouds, and night grew even colder, even quieter, so it came as a surprise to the bird when a low rumbling filled the air, traveling along the wind, seemingly along the clouds. Human’s didn’t notice the noise, but there was a lot human’s didn’t notice.
He peered out from the safely of his perch and narrowed his eyes against the wind. There hadn’t been any thunder all day, just snow, so that bit of rumbling was quiet unexpected. Then the thunder came again, long and drawn out and the bird stiffened when he realized that it wasn’t thunder he was hearing.
That was the roar of a dragon.
Shaking snow off his head, the small bird jumped into the wind, pumping his wings madly and fought against the pressure forcing him away from the source of the roar.
He knew better than to fly in a storm. Hell hath no fury like Mother Nature, he knew, but that call, that angry roar, begged him to come investigate. So he will. Chirping quietly, the wind taking the single note and throwing it away from the bird, he summoned magic to him and created an area around him of dead wind to protect him from the storm. He flew into the wind, listening to the roar and following where it led.
He left the town and then the working fields far behind before his body, his magic, begged for a rest and he dropped out of the air and into a tree’s protective embrace. His magic left him and once again the angry winds tore at his feathers. He puffed up and wiggled down, making himself as small as possible.
He was almost nodding off in his cocoon of warmth when he realized that he hadn’t heard the dragon’s roar in a while. If he could, he would have frowned.
Dragons were rare. They had been hunted by humans to near extinction and the bird had so wanted to see one. He chirped angrily to himself and flapped his wings before settling down in the arms of the tree.
While he perched, the night grew late, then early and the wind died down until the snow was falling softly to the ground instead of lashing at everything. The bird perked up and took a look about him and found that something had settled down at the base of the tree. Cocking his head to one side, he glided down to the ground and found that the little something was a part of something much larger hidden inside the hollowed out trunk of the tree.
A long muzzle lay on top two clawed paws and the bird took a quick guess. This wasn’t the dragon that had made the call from last night. That dragon was angry and terrible. It had to have been a giant of a dragon to make that low of a call, for it to carry so far. This one was small, about the size of a large dog, or maybe a very small pony. Its scales were shimmering with melted snow and it’s eyes were half lidded. The bird fancied he could see pain it their dark depths.
He bounced closer and smelt blood. The poor tyke was bleeding, he realized and his natural caregiver attitude took over. He spread his wings and flew into the small burrow and landed on the dragon’s shoulders, magic pouring off him into the wounds.
The dragon slowly lifted his head and turned to look at him, blinking his eyes slowly and dully, as if it were nearly too much effort. He quickly healed the dragon, and took stock of the wounds. Had that other dragon attacked this little one?
The bird puffed up again, this time in anger. And here he had thought that only humans were the ones to cause this type of harm to each other. The dragon’s tongue licked out, touching his bird’s cheek before he turned back around and settled his head on his paws once again, too tired for much else. Too cold, the bird thought, bringing about more magic, this time heat.
The bird settled between the dragon’s claws, right in front of his nostrils and fluffed up his feathers once again, letting a real sleep come over him.
He’d finally found himself a dragon, and the dragon slept on.