Yaro drifted over grassy hills, sparse with the dull-white abandoned structures of the city of Sornata. Yaro hadn't traveled much up north, never realizing the true scope of the relic metropolis. Sure, everyone knew it was huge, but it was another thing to be flying for days and still be within the city's limits. She skirted the outskirts now, fallen towers still intact speckling the golden landscape. It felt like steppes, cold and barren of trees, those megaliths the bones of that ancient time, only half buried. She headed north-west, towards Mount Witch according to the map she took from the last city. That had been days ago, the only things that seemed to be out this way was nothing and the occasional herd.
The one she noted far below, it was a passive herd of Ghrepul. The cumbersome beasts of shaggy fur and arching spines grazed peacefully, sure that in the vastness they could see, there were no predators. There must not be many flying predators if they didn't care for her. She dove down, ready to feed, to keep herself going for the next few days. She chose the one furthest from the herd. It could be drifting because it was shunned, sick, curious, or any number of reasons. The solitude of it made it easy prey, no other of the herd to try and come to its defense.
With a freefall, she came down on it. The wind battered her face, pulling at her skin. Before she landed, she outstretched her wings, the membranous flesh feathers yanked painfully, but expectedly. With precision and swiftness, she bit the creature's neck, severing its spine. Its death was painless. She had ample opportunity to do what she needed.
She stood, delicious gore dripping from her fangs. She surveyed the land, making sure none of the other herd would come. They didn't. More than that, they seemed unperturbed by the sudden ending of one of their families. They continued to graze, more stupid than she'd expected them to be.
A shout came from behind her. Ah, that's why, they were domesticated. With how empty the landscape was, she assumed they were wild, that she could take one with little issue. She should have expected otherwise. Ghrepul were a staple, very few wild herds remained in the world. She was careless, yet again, letting her hunger beat out preparation. She'd have to eat quickly, hacking away what she could and fly off before they got to her. She never seemed to be rid of this habit, to jump in while she’s thinking, not after.
It was a tsohtsi, diving down on her from the south. Clearly, she needed to look around more, not just down. It made sense to care for a herd from above, where they could see even more than the herd itself. He came down with talons out, ready to rip at Yaro. She drew out one whip, snapping it on the ground. They veered away, but were unable to stop from crashing into the ground. He screamed in pain.
Yaro walked up on him, wanting to get a better understanding. He had sullen eyes, dull feathers, a baggy ribcage. He was old, feeble even. He must not be alone, she supposed. She looked to the sky before taking off. It was clear, only a few teal clouds stretching lazily against the orange sky. She looked back down at the old man. His left wing bent under him, probably broken.
She should probably end his misery here. He'd lived a good life, probably. And with a broken wing, there was no way he'd be able to keep his herd. Even without it, he was old enough that he couldn't stop Yaro. What good would he do against something that actually meant him harm?
He screeched, "get away from her you monster!"
She had her robe put away, of course. She could not have expected to meet someone out here in the middle of nowhere, so why would she risk damaging it? Her whole form towered before him, casting an ugly shadow across his frail form.
He spat at her. She wiped the watery substance from her cheek, not sure if she should be angry or pity the poor wretch. He had fight in him, despite clearly being on the losing end. He unfortunately found himself in such a position that she could so easily end his life. Though, what purpose would that really serve? She had no reason to even interact with him, he had done this to himself. She let the flames from her hand dissipate, the cool air swirling around her. She turned to leave. She had better things to do.
"So you will leave me! You will cripple an old man and leave him to die and rot! You're a monster in form and spirit!"
Now that, that got her riled up. She swallowed the heat in her chest and turned back. "You talk a lot for someone who's going to die alone."
"It is your fault."
"Clearly, it is your own."
"You killed Tamana, you killed her!" He wriggled on the ground, rolling off his injured wing. Blood soaked the ground, shattered porous bone poking from the base of the wing. Feathers were matted and falling off. How was he even able to move? His aura only gave off a little discomfort, not the immense pain he should be in. It must be a shock, Yaro supposed.
"Everyone needs to eat. Even monsters." Yaro stepped towards the man who tried to stand up. He kept falling over, that balance used in flight gone. "You look like you're ready to be sent to Tukk."
He grunted, trying to lift himself off the ground again, hoping and falling down. "If I am to die, I will be sure to haunt you for the rest of your days."
He was no threat to her, even if he wanted to be. Yaro smirked, exhaling smoke in a long sigh. She should leave, she really should. But this fighting spirit in a pathetic body held her there. She could do something, clearly. Would she? Did this random man who attacked her, spat at her, deserve it? Maybe. She did kill one of his livestock. Though, from the looks of his herd, he had plenty and could spare one or even a dozen. Why should she feel bad for stealing?
"I will drag you to Yon," he spat. "Do you hear me!"
Yaro took another step closer, bending down. She inspected him, locking eyes. His were intense, yellow and full of... not hatred, but a different kind of anger. His aura still only felt a light bit of pain and a lot of anger, but there was an underlying sorrow there, too. He knew he was going to die. "I do, old man. I hear you. And you very well might, but not today."
She shoved him to the ground. His body was so light, so easy to break. She hoped she didn't fracture anything further, that would mean there would need to be more work to do. "Get off of me, beast! To Yon with you."
"You can try to send me there," she said forcing his wing flat against the ground. She had to set it first, otherwise it would not heal properly and he wouldn't be able to fly. "This is going to hurt, so be still."
He writhed against her grip, barely able to even shake her. He was so weak, how did he expect to protect anything? Before getting to work, she took one last look around. In the golden grass, she spotted something brown, a stick. It was not far from where he'd landed. She didn't remember seeing him holding anything, but she was safer assuming it was some kind of weapon. There was just no other way he'd be here all alone with such a frail body. She made a mental note of it and would retrieve it after she was done.
Yaro inspected the grievous wound. Bone tore through muscle, wet with blood and gore. It was completely shattered and would not heal properly, too many missing fragments. She turned it over, uncaring as he screamed endless profanities. She would have to rip it open more, to ensure that any more fractures are healed. It was the best thing for him. So she did, taking one claw and putting it in her mouth. She sucked it for a few seconds, cleaning away all the dirt and ghrepul blood from it to make it as clean as possible. She might be able to mend things, but she could not fully protect against infection. And, in the middle of nowhere, there wasn't much of an option for sterilization. She might not get sick, but she knew others did.
All his anger, sorrow, pain, it all washed away in a fear that threatened to drag her down. She swallowed, the gross taste of the nail dirt fading.
She took that claw and put it against the exposed bone. She dragged it down, towards the base of the old man's arm. He screamed for a while, fading the closer she got. By the time she finished severing his flesh the other way, he had fainted. This was great, no more wriggling and pain in her ears. She worked , taking slow laps against his flesh from the base of his arm up.
After the sayk passed it's apex, she took a break. She sighed. She would not have those memories back, ever. She couldn't even have the feeling that things happened then, only through conjecture could she expect things to have happened. She looked back at the herd. They'd slowly made their way closer to them, some actually emanating worry. Yaro supposed their protector dying would be more adverse to living than some ostracized member. She went back to licking, the blood and muscle not very tasty. She'd never liked bird meat.
The sayk started to set by the time she was done. The air became colder, prickling against her bare skin and nearly freezing her scales. She'd have to get back to the sky, where it was warmer. She looked up, wisps of clouds like beckoning limbs running by. She looked back down at her work. The wound was completely sealed. No one would have suspected the injury if it weren't for the scar and the large amount of missing feathers. His skin was so pale and wrinkly, she wondered if she'd done enough that he could fly again.
While he was out, she walked over to that stick she'd noted earlier. And, to her non-surprise, it was a weapon. It was a thunderspear, the tip polished and unused. She wondered why he hadn't used it, why he bothered to try and grab her with his talons. If he'd used it, she probably would have flown away and he wouldn't have crash-landed and broken his wing. She picked it up, inspecting it without too much thought as to why.
"Please," she heard faintly behind her. "Please, just don't kill me." She turned back to see the old man still lying on the ground. He'd rolled over, eyes open with terror and tears. "Please don't kill me."
She wasn't going to. Why would she waste so much time healing him just to throw it all way. She wasn't sure why she healed him in the first place, there would be nothing to gain. But she sure was not going to kill him now. She held up the thunder spear, pointing it to the sky in case it went off. She'd never actually healed one before, only seeing protectors carrying them around and some from her time with Natrai keeping them close by their beds. They kept smaller ones, called bik, more like a thunder dagger. "Why didn't you shoot me?"
"Eh- what? Why didn't I?" His greying eyes focused on the spear. "Oh..." He rolled to get up. He gingerly put weight on his wing, letting an emission of surprise escape when he found he could use it to stand back on his talons. "I... You did this?"
"I did," Yaro said, using the spear as a walking stick. If it went off while she tapped it against the ground, well, that means it wouldn't go off at her. "I'll ask again, and you'd better answer this time. Why didn't you shoot me."
His pupils dilated as he met her eyes. "I wanted to save Tamana, if possible. I didn't know you'd killed her. You Yon-bound monster."
Why had she saved this old man? There really wasn't anything she would have possibly gotten out of it. She supposed she now had a thunder spear, but what good was it if she didn't know how to operate it? She'd wasted time and energy for absolutely no reason. She looked over to where the corpse of her kill , where the other Ghrepul refused to step within ten paces of. "I'll take that ghrepul as payment."
"Payment? You are going to take my precious Tamana as payment for nearly killing me?"
"You landed on the ground yourself, breaking your own wing."
He grumbled something too high-pitched for Yaro to hear. "No, you will not take her. I must take her home and butcher her, I cannot let her go to waste."
Yaro didn't expect such callous reasoning from this old man who seemed to have such love for the creature. He'd even named it. "I'll bring it back, you just lead the way."
Before he could respond with words, only emanating disbelief, she left him for the fallen Tamana. She tapped her necklace, hoping she could put the thunder spear in her holder. She gave gratitude to an absent god, it puffed into smoke and was absorbed by the black pebble. She grabbed the dead meat with one hand and pulled it back to the shepherd. He eyed her, then began walking east. Of course she'd be led away from where the ring pulled her.
The ghrepul herd followed them, at a distance.
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