A Midsummer's Nightmare

by Aerborne

Honors English assignment / A Midsummer Night's Dream, but in Africa. With vultures and lions and one half-warthog.

Oberon, Titania—vultures (Osvur, Thira)

Demetrius, Helena, Lysander, Hermia—lions (Dyrik, Halla, Lysin, Hyrma)

Theseus, Hippolyta-head lions (Thorin, Hylla)

Egeus - old lion (Erynt)

Philostrate - hornbill (Pyrus)

Bottom, Quince, Flute, Snout, Snug, Starveling - common birds (Breen, Quill, Cis, Thorn, Samn, Stirling)

Puck - bird (Ryllin)

o - ~ - o

The moon shone brightly above the African savannah. Osvur soared above the grassy plain, his sharp eyes taking in everything. He was nearly upon the Achelis lion-lands. The lions who lived there, to him, were always to most interesting to watch.

He turned his wings and descended to perch upon a crooked, shrub-like tree. His feathers were dark enough that he would not be seen unless he was being sought after.

Two lions lay close, their heads nearly touching. Osvur recognized the first easily. He was Thorin, distinguished by his dark, large mane and the way he arched his head. He narrowed his eyes at the second, who was smaller female. Hylla, he remembered, inclining his head.

"The time for leadership is nearly upon us," Thorin murmured. "The mourning period for my father's death will be done in four moonrises." His low tone was gravelly.

Hylla glanced around before she spoke. "Don't worry, Thorin," she whispered. "Four moonrises will pass before you can even blink."

The large lion shifted, restless. "It doesn't seem like it," he grumbled. "But no matter. Pyrus!" A small bird hopped down to perch on Thorin's shoulder. "Go! Organize a hunt, to stir the spirits of our youth."

The hornbill replied very quietly with words of assent. Then the sleek-feathered bird spread his wings and took flight, soaring in the direction of the center of the Achelis lion-lands.

"Hylla," Thorin said, "I found you in battle, earned your love through hurt and hatred. But now, now, we will work as one, and we will be the envy of all of Achelis."

Osvur was silent. Then he opened his wings once again. Now there was nothing more for him to see here. It was time for him to move on.

o - ~ - o

The next morning, after he had flown long and far, Osvur came upon a new lion. Erynt, the leader of an Achelis subpride. He was older than Thorin had been, his mane both thinner and lighter; his coat was patchy from age. Despite his frail appearance, his eyes were filled with a bold anger.

He paced around for a while, tail lashing. Osvur was about to leave when Erynt, huffing, called for three others to join him: Dyrik, Lysin, two young males, and his own daughter, Hyrma.

"I won't deal with this insolence," he muttered, seemingly to himself. "Come. We are going to take this—this issue to Thorin." The daughter, Hyrma muttered something to Lysin, clearly irritated by Erynt's words.

To Osvur, it sounded suspiciously like, "There is no issue, except for the issue of your senile mind."

He flew above the group as they travelled to Thorin's dwelling. They were painfully slow, so Osvur sat preening above where Thorin and Hylla stood, as he waited for them.

"Thorin," Erynt said, dipping his head to the younger male. "I have come with a complaint."

"Erynt," Thorin greeted. "Of what matter would that complaint be?" he questioned.

Erynt seemed to straighten as the question Thorin proposed. "My daughter, Hyrma," he said, and she stood, "Dyrik," he continued, and he also stood. "Dyrik has my permission to bond with Hyrma. But Lysin," here the third stood, "has not. He has stolen the heart of my child, and he has turned her against me! Therefore she will not agree to bond with Dyril, who has my consent."

"And?" Thorin prompted.

"I would wish upon her the ancient law," Erynt said, looking altogether too proud of himself, "and as she is of my blood, so I can be rid of her, either to the law's death, or to my chosen."

Thorin looked thoughtful. "And," he said, addressing Hyrma, "what is your say about this? Be wise; you know that it is his right to determine your fate.."

The young pale-coated lioness drew herself up, eyes sparking with defiance. "Lysin is the one I'd rather bond with," she said stubbornly.

Osvur couldn't tell whether her words were brave or foolish. Perhaps they were a mix of both.

"He may be," Thorin mused, "but he does not have your father's love, which is more important."

"I don't care whether he does or doesn't have my father's love," she said shortly, irritated. "It's my life, I should be able to choose my own future."

"The lions of Achelis say otherwise," Thorin reminded. "You are outnumbered of that thought."

Hyrma was silent for a few moments. "What," she asked, "is the worst that can come to me if I refuse my father's choice?"

"To die the law's death," Thorin began, "or to forever forsake any society in exile. Choose wisely," he warned. "Can you can live alone, forever set apart?"

"Let us have this, Durik," spoke Lysin for the first time. "It is Hyrma's wish, take that under consideration."

"Dyrik, and her future, is my choice," Erynt said pointedly, sounding like he very much wanted to get this over with. "It is not within Hyrma's power."

"What is to be done about Halla?" Lysin asked, persistent. "Dyrik used to court her, if you'll recall. She is madly in love with him. You know this choice will devastate her."

"I had heard of that," Thorin admitted, "but Halla will learn to cope with it. Hyrma, your answer will be required four moonrises from now." He glanced over to his companion. "Hylla, come. Let us go and prepare for our leading."

Osvur took to that sky at that. He could see the conversation was over at that point. Dyrik loves Hyrma, he mused, but Hyrma loves Lysin and Lysin loves her, though Halla loves Dyrik. This is a mess indeed. He couldn't help but be amused.

Oh, yes. I think I'll hang around this group a little longer.

o - ~ - o

Osvur found them again later—at least two of them, anyway.

Hyrma and Lysin sat near each other in a lone grassy field. Ah, the lovers, he thought. This whole situation . . . it's becoming quite intriguing.

"I have kin out of Achelis," Lysin murmured. "My mother's sister, who recognizes me as her son. There, I believe, we can evade the ancient law."

Hyrma's eyes were bright with curiosity as she soaked in Lysin's words. "When will we go?" she asked wonderingly.

"Tomorrow," he answered, "when the moon rises and is at its peak. We will meet in the wood. But look, Halla is coming."

That name was familiar. The lioness who was madly in love with Dyrik. Osvur was looking forward to it; was she as in love as they had said?

Osvur spotted the new lioness, Halla, easily. She was leaner than Hyrma was, and taller too, with a dark honeycomb coat to match her amber eyes.

She was absolutely fuming. "Am I as fair as you?" she asked, eyes dark with anger.

Osvur thought she was trying to sound too poetic.

"Dyrik loves your beauty more than my own. Your eyes are clearer, more brilliant, and your breath is sweet with grace. Oh, do you think he would love me if I had your beauty?"

"Halla, you know I don't like him," Hyrma said, frowning at her friend. "I've sent him away more times than I can count, and he still comes to me."

"It seems that your dislike is much greater than my love," Halla sighed loudly.

"Despite my curses, he loves me," Hyrma grumbled, "and-"

"You're so lucky-"

"-the more I hate him, it seems that his fondness grows."

"The more I love him, it seems that his hatred grows," groused Halla.

Hyrma looked miffed. "That's not my fault, Halla," she reminded. "I have no part in his apparent foolishness."

"Your fault in this case is your beauty," Halla returned sharply. Her voice softened. "I wish that fault was mine." She sighed again, dramatically long and drawn-out.

Hyrma straightened. "That won't be a problem from now on," she announced, almost smugly. "Lysin and I are leaving tomorrow night from Achelis. Dyrik doesn't ever have to see my face again."

"Right when the moon is at its zenith," added Lysin.

"We're going to meet where you and I used to talk when we were cubs, in the flower field," Hyrma said, eyes bright with excitement. Her gaze dimmed a little, though the thrill in her voice did not. "Good luck with Dyrik, by the way."

"Goodbye, Halla," Lysin said as he prepared to leave. "I hope Dyrik gives you all the love you give him."

Osvur watched as they both departed the field, but Halla remained still. He rather thought her lamenting was a bit too much, but he wouldn't interfere. Vultures never did unless there was a kill.

And there wasn't.

"Why does Dyrik love Hermia so?" she wondered out loud. "He was mine when we were youthful, then Hermia's once he saw her. All those promises he made melted like dew in the sun . . . If I tell him of Hyrma's leaving, I wonder, will he give me a simple thanks or his favor?"

If he wasn't before, Osvur was most definitely curious.

This was going to be absolutely fascinating.

o - ~ - o

"Are we all here?" Quil glanced around, surveying the group.

"Read their names," Breen suggested, fluffing his feathers. "In order, please."

Quil paused for a moment but nodded. "All right. This is everyone who will be in our act-"

Breen shifted. "First," he said, trying to sound very professional, "read the title, and then read the names."

Quil started again. "The play is 'Arleese'," he said. "A flock of vultures plot to kill the group of lions. Arleese, a common bird like ourselves, is the one to rid the land of their menace."

"Good, good," Breen looked strangely pleased. "'Arleese' is a good one. Who am I to play?"

"Kyrus," Quil read, "is who you're set down to play."

Breen blinked. "Is he valiant?" he asked. "A wandering brave?"

Quil shook his head. "Well," he said. "Kyrus is Arleese's lover, the one who tells her of the hunters."

"Is he fierce? Or-or I could play Tirnen, too!" Breen puffed out his chest. "I shall be the one to conquer the lands!" he quoted. "Oh, that's fun."

"You will be Kyrus, and that's final," said Quil sternly. "Now, Cis. You're to be Arleese, the hero of the lands."

Cis looked disbelieving. "I'm a girl?" he squawked, flapping his wings. "But...but I don't wanna be a girl!"

"I'd make a wonderful Arleese," piped Breen. He raised his pitch. "Look, I have a most wonderful voice for Arleese and-"

Quil was not sympathetic. "Cis, you are Arleese," he stated flatly. "Now, Stirling, you are Reix, the king of the lions. Thorn, you are Kyre, Reix's advisor."

"I could be a lion," offered Breen. "I'd roar so sweetly you'd never hear better."

He earned a glare as Quil turned to the last member. "Samn, you are Tirnen, the king of the vultures, who plots against Reix and Kyre."

Samn looked worried. "Does he have many lines?" he asked.

"Only at the end," Quil promised, "and they are simple lines at best."

Samn sagged in relief. "All right," he said. "I can do simple lines."

The director straightened. "Now that that's taken care of," he said, "I propose we meet in the flower-field to practice tomorrow night . . ."

o - ~ - o

Ryllin was silent as he soared through the sky. It was dark out, but he could still see well enough to maneuver his way through the air. He dropped down near the shrub grove, where he spotted a little warbler bird.

"Where do you wander?" Ryllin asked, his curiosity poorly hidden.

"Wherever the queen wishes me to," answered the small bird. "Over hills, over dales, water, fire . . ." She trailed off, tilting her head. "Oh," she said. "Be careful. The queen's coming around soon with the rest of us."

Ryllin gave a quick dip of his head. "The king wishes to have his revels here," he warned. "Make sure the queen is not within his sight. For they have recently a fight, over a small changeling bird. Osvur would wish the fledgling to be his own, but Thira will not give him up."

The little warbler nodded. Ryllin continued.

"They have not met for a while," he continued, "for their fights are loud and their insults disparate, enough to make all the wildlife hide in fear."

There was a pause, and then the warnler said hesitantly, "Are you Ryllin," she asked, "the king's Puck? The one who frightens all the cloven-hooved creatures, who fools the rhinos?"

"Yes," he said simply. "I entertain him, make him laugh and smile. I wander through the night, seeking mortals . . . to trick. Oh! And here comes Osvur."

"Here he comes," echoed the warbler, glancing past him. "Thira is here, too."

Both vultures were just a little bigger than everyone else; with sleek, dark-edged feathers and sharp, dark eyes.

"This meeting seems ill-met, Thira," said Osvur, his voice low and wary.

Thira scoffed. "What, Osvur? Warblers, continue onward. I have sworn away from him until he gives up this silly game."

"I am your superior," Osvur reminded, a clear warning in his voice.

"And I your inferior," Thira retorted, her tone making it clear she didn't quite believe it. "But I know you've been advising Hylla on matters of late. This proves that you do not have the right to hold power over me."

Osvur shook his head, a sly grin on his face. "How dare you confront me of that when you yourself have been giving Thorin counsel?" he snapped. "I know you were behind his choices to get rid of Peryll and Aelles and Ariane and Anioa. Don't pretend it wasn't you."

Thira seemed upset. "Those," she said slowly, "are lies caused by your insatiable envy." She paused and took a deep breath, seeming to compose herself. "We have matters to discuss, Osvur. As you might know, our fights have started to affect the outside world. The lion-lands are beginning to deteriorate. Without the vultures regularly eating the carrion, it is beginning to fall in its prosperity. We must settle this."

Osvur looked her over critically. "You can make amends if you'd like," he said. "All I want is the fledgling."

"His mother was my friend," Thira said firmly, her eyes flashing. "One that I was very fond of. I will not give him up just for you to use him as a tool to do your dirty work."

"Very well." Osvur's irritation was clear, though he kept an even composition. "How long are you staying here?"

Thira's hot gaze subsided, just a little. "Until after the crowning ceremony," she said decisively. "Will you come with me and see the moonlit dance?"

"Well," Osvur began, "if you give over the fledgling, I will go with you."

Thira laughed. "Not for the world," she scoffed, turning away. Any hint of softness she may have shown was gone. "Warblers, go! There will be trouble should we stay."

She turned away and ascended to the sky, followed by a string of little cream-and-brown warbler birds.

Ryllin wasn't surprised. Thira was stubborn, and her actions made it blantantly obvious.

Osvur turned to him. The smaller vulture met his gaze evenly.

"Ryllin," he said, staring off into the distance. "Once before, I came upon a little flower, struck by the beak of an ethereal dove. It had stained purple. It is called 'torpor' and the nectar of its petals can make anyone fall in love with anyone or anything." He turned his gaze on Ryllin again. "I showed you it once, and now I need you to go fetch it."

Ryllin nodded. He didn't question his orders. "Got it, Osvur. I'll be there in back in no time at all!"

He took to the sky immediately, feeling adrenaline race through his veins as he looped out of his master's sight.

Osvur watched the other bird soar away. He looked pleased. "When this tordor comes into my possession," he said, thoughtful, "I will find Thira, and drop the nectar upon her eyes, so that she will fall in love with whatever vile things she wakes to. Then I will take her fledgling for myself, and remove this glamour from her gaze."

He paused. He could hear voices behind him. "I will listen," he decided, "while Ryllin fetches my flower."

In stomped Dyrik, trailed by Halla.

"I don't love you!" growled Dyrik. "I don't love you, leave me alone!" Then, his voice strained, he grumbled, "This place is tearing away every inch of my sanity!"

"I cannot," Halla said, a pleading note in her voice. "My heart speaks true. You are my sun, I cannot resist your pull."

Dyrik turned around, baring his teeth. "I didn't ask for you to be here!" he snarled. "I have not been civil, I have not invited you to follow me!" He glared. "I cannot love you, all right?"

Halla sighed. "I love you even more," she said, "for your honesty."

"What do you mean?" Dyrik demanded. "That doesn't even make sense!" He growled under his breath and continued forward.

Halla, unsurprisingly, followed. "Dyrik," she pleaded, "just let me come with you! I won't be a burden!"

He didn't quite seem to believe it. "Let me be free of you," he said coldly, "or I shall leave you here by force for the predators around."

"You can't do that," Halla whispered, disbelieving. "Dyrik-"

WIthout giving her a second glance, Dyrik left.

The lioness was silent for a moment. "I will follow him," she vowed. "Even if I get struck down, I will make this hell a heaven."

She stepped gracefully in the direction where Dyrik had gone, and Osvur was left alone. He had a plan. Now, when-

He didn't flinch when Ryllin landed. "Got it, Osvur," he announced.

"Ryllin, I shall be the one to set the glamour upon Thira, but you I put in charge of another task." He divided the flower into two sections. "An Achelis lioness is in love with a spiteful heart. You shall use this torpor on him, where he would wake to her voice."

"And how should I know him?"

"By his dark honey coat and dark mane," Osvur replied crisply. "When you have done this, we shall meet again."

Ryllin nodded, black eyes sharp in the light. "Of course, Osvur. I shall do so."

o - ~ - o

Thira stooped to the ground where she could spot the familiar flower field. "Come, my warblers," she said. "We shall have a song to put me into a rest."

One small warbler started up the song, a gentle, lilting lullaby. Then, one by one, the others joined its song, rising and falling gently like a wandering wind.

As she fell into a sleep, another warbler said quietly, "There is our cue to go," he said. "Away!"

Osvur let himself smile as the warblers departed. "Perfect," he said. He watched the nectar fall from the flower. "I hope that the most vile thing wakes you when it is near." His words were soft but cold.

He took off, leaving Thira alone in her slumber.

Moments after he left, two lions stepped into the flower field. "I'm starting to become weary," mused Lysin, glancing back at Hyrma. "I think we should lay down to rest. What do you think?"

"All right, Lysin," affirmed Hyrma. "I shall lie here tonight, I think. Seek yourself a nest."

"Why?" questioned Lysin, but at Hyrma's pointed glance, he quieted. "All right," he sighed. "One day it shall not be so."

"Hm, perhaps," said Hyrma, and then there was silence.

Ryllin, carrying the flower in his claws, observed the sleeping lions. "This is the one," he declared, eyes on Lysin. "Here is the spiteful heart the sweet lioness loves. Look how they sleep apart!"

He dropped the nectar upon Lysin's eyes. "It is finished," he said. "When you wake, may love hinder even your senses."

The instant he left, Dyrik and Halla came running through.

"Let me stay with you, Dyrik," begged Halla.

"Leave me!" Dyrik commanded. "You pest, do not follow me again!"

Halla seemed panicked. "Don't leave me alone in the dark!" she cried. "Dyrik!"

But he did not heed her words, and he left Halla alone where she stood.

"Dyrik!" she called again, but there was no response. She shook her head, walking in the direction Dyrik, glancing around as if that would help her. Then: "Lysin!"

Her friend's lover lay on the ground, and she scanned his body, but saw his chest rise. "Lysin?" she asked.

In an instant Lysin was awake. "Sweet Halla," he proclaimed. "I would run through all the lands for your sake!"

She was suspicious, but his words sounded sincere. "What about Hyrma?" she asked, faltering. "What about your love for Hyrma?"

Lysin scoffed. "What love?" he questioned. "I have no love for Hyrma. My only love is for Halla, the fair one."

"What have I done to earn this mockery?" she demanded. "I can never get a good word from Demetrius, must you scorn me so?"

"I have no scorn," Lysin replied, looking injured. "The mere sound of her name brings hate to mind."

Without another word, Halla left, looking irritated. In just a few moments, Lysin was following after her.

Hyrma awoke to silence, her mind flashing with horrid images. "Lysin?" she called quietly. When there was no answer, she repeated louder, "Lysin?" She scrambled to her feet, looking frightened. "Lysin, I had such an awful dream . . . a snake was coming for me, and you simply sat there, doing nothing . . ."

She trailed off. He was gone. "Lysin!" Her cry was desperate now. "Lysin!"

The only response she received was that of a far-off owl.

o - ~ - o

"We are all present, yes?" Quil spoke first, looking around.

"Of course," Breen said. He gestured at the field. "This is a wonderful place to meet, Quil." Then he paused. "I have some concerns," he said to Quil.

"Go on."

"We have to do something about the thorns Tirnen puts in Reix's camp," he said. "But I have a solution: you write us an introduction that states the thorns won't draw any blood."

Quil looked thoughtful. "It shall be so."

"And then," Breen continued, "we musn't scare them into thinking Tirnen is really here. So we must have another introduction, and this will state that Samn is playing Tirnen. Otherwise they might be worried." He paused. "Also, what are we to do about the cave where Arleese and Kyrus plan? There won't be any rocks at the ceremony."

"We shall have someone play rocks," Quil promised. "We can shower them in dust so that their feathers keep in the grit and sand."

"Good." Breen looked satisfied.

"Now we shall rehearse," Quil said.

Ryllin watched from overhead, curious. "What is this?" he wondered. "So close to the queen, too."

They really were quite bad, he mused, but that was the sort of thing Ryllin liked to see. So he waited, observing.

Kyrus was his favorite character, but the actor selected was the worst he'd ever seen. He left quietly with a sweep of his wings.

"Do I say my line now?" asked Cis. Quil gave him a nod. "All right. Kyrus, what news have you brought here today? I have but one request: tomorrow, meet me at Farley's cave this time-"

"Farland's cave!" shouted Quil. He was beginning to wonder whether this was such a good idea when he saw Breen . . . with the head of a warthog. "What has happened?" he asked, feeling pale. "Breen!"

"We're cursed!" cried Samn, flapping his wings. "Fly!"

"Why do they run?" Breen wondered aloud as he saw the group rise into the air.

Thorm seemed at loss for words. "You've been changed!" he exclaimed.

Breen was not amused. "This is to scare me, isn't it? Well, I'll show them I'm not afraid at all." He began to hum an old song, then began to sing it in an off-key tone. He had not expected a vulture to wake.

"Who has awakened me?" asked Thira. "What dove has come?"

Breen continued to sing.

"Oh, keep singing," sighed Thira.

At that Breen was mystified. "Reason and love keep little company," he said, but kept singing his song.

The vulture fluffed our her feathers. "You are wise and handsome," she commented.

"Not so, really," he hummed. "I-"

She stopped his words. "Warblers," she called. "I have a task for you: do whatever my love wishes."

She watched as they attended upon Breen, and she sighed dreamily.

How wonderful this was.

o - ~ - o

Osvur descended carefully, his dark mottled feathers nearly invisible. "I wonder what woke Thira," he said to himself. "Would it be as vile as I had hoped?"

Ryllin landed a few moments later. "I know who Thira fell in love with," he said, sounding pleased. "There were commoner birds practicing a play, for Thorin's crowning ceremony, and you see, I changed one's head into that of a warthog. That is who she fell in love with."

The large vulture chuckled lowly. "Marvelous, Ryllin. Now, how did the nectar drops fare?"

Ryllin puffed out his feathers. "I did it while he slumbered, with the lioness at his side."

They both froze at the sight of Dyrik and Hyrma.

"Stay near," Osvur said. "This is the same Achelisian."

"That's the lioness," whispered Ryllin, "but this isn't the male."

Dyrik stepped heavily beside Hyrma. "Why are you saying these things about Lysin?"

"He was gone!" she said. "I woke and he was gone. He would never leave me, not unless he was dead!"

Dyrik seemed to catch her meaning. "It was not me," he insisted.

Hyrma sent him a fierce glare, disbelieving. "Is he well?" she pressed.

"How should I know? What would I get from this?"

"Never to see me again," Hyrma said, "dead or alive he may be." He watched her go, puzzled. Then Dyrik lowered his head and sighed.

"No matter. For now, I will rest, and later I will find her again." He curled up in a patch of soft grass and was soon asleep.

Osvur turned to Ryllin. "What have you done?" he demanded. "You have turned love into hate!"

"It was not my fault!" his servant said, defensive.

"Go find Halla of Achelis," Osvur said very clearly. "Bring her here, and we may charm the eyes of this male."

Ryllin nodded eagerly. "I will," he promised.

Osvur watched him go. Then he stooped low and dropped the nectar into Dyrik's eyes. "Let his love rival Halla's own," he whispered. Then he straightened when Ryllin reappeared.

"I got her, plus the male I used the tordor on," he proclaimed. "Though, I find that these creatures are quite fools!"

"Step aside," Osvur said. "Any noise they make will sure wake Dyrik."

"So," Ryllin said, "two will fight for one, I think that is quite the amusing sport, especially those that are full of ruin."

Both vultures retreated a few steps.

Lysin stared at Halla, clear confusion in his eyes. "Halla," he murmured, "why should I degrade you with my love? You are the goddess of my eye."

"Those words belong solely to Hyrma," Halla snapped. "Why should you give them to me, if not as scorn?"

"I didn't know what I was saying," Lysin defended, steely.

The lioness paused. "And now, you abandon her."

Their bickering woke Dyrik, who stared at Halla with a new light in his eyes. He stood. "Halla, you are perfect," he breathed, eyes wide. "Nothing should compare with you."

She was upset. "Now both of you are mocking me," she growled. "Why won't you hate me? I know you do. What have I done to deserve this?"

Lysin blinked twice at Dyrik. "But you love Hyrma," he said blankly. "Look, you can have Hyrma if I can have Halla, the one I will love evermore."

Halla watched them carefully, rigid.

"I don't want Hyrma," Dyrik replied. "I have no love for her now. It has returned to Halla."

"It is not so." Lysin's words were flat and yet sharp at the same time.

"I claim her," Dyrik said. "You love Hyrma more than I ever did."

Seemingly as if summoned, Hyrma appeared through the long grass. "Why did you leave my, Lysin?" she asked immediately.

"Why would I stay?" Lysin returned bluntly. "I don't love you."

"But-" Hyrma's eyes were wide. "What would take you from my side?"

Her lover looked annoyed. "I don't love you. In fact, it is quite the opposite. I hate you, Hyrma." He said this cleanly, with no remorse.

"How can that be?"

Halla spoke next, gaze flashing angrily. "You're part of this, aren't you? Why would you do this to me? Does our cubhood friendship mean nothing to you?"

"I don't degrade you," Hyrma said, glancing between Halla, Dyrik, and Lysin. "To me, it looks like you are the one to degrade me."

The taller lioness stood straighter, as if to challenge Hyrma. "Was it not from you that Dyrik and Lysin have claimed to love me?"

"I don't understand."

"Do you not fake this confusion?" Halla stared hard at her friend. "If you cared about me, you wouldn't put me through this. My own fault, I suppose." She did not elaborate.

Lysin seemed troubled. "Don't leave. Listen to me, Halla-"

"No," she said.

"Don't scorn her, love," Hyrma said.

Dyrik sent a hard look at Lysin, who returned it just as fiercely. "I love you, Halla," Lysin repeated, pleading. "I swear it on my life!"

"I love you more," Dyrik challenged.

Lysin was calm. "Prove it."

"I will."

Hyrma glanced desperately between Lysin and Dyrik. "Lysin! What are you doing?" She rested her tail on his shoulder, but he brushed off the gesture.

'Leave," he commanded. "I have a battle to fight."

"Why are you so rude?" she asked, tearing up. "Love, I-"

He didn't spare her a glance. "Get out. I am no love of yours."

"You're joking, right?"

"Just like you are," muttered Halla under her breath.

"Get rid!" Dyrik yelled, but Lysin was not moved.

He glanced up. "I hate her," he began evenly, "but I will not hurt her."

Hyrma didn't look him in the eye. "The greatest hurt you have dealt me is your hate," she mumbled. Then she turned to Halla. "This is your fault," she said lowly. "You worm, you flea!"

Halla looked taken aback. "Have you no shame?" she demanded. "Puppet, phony!"

"Puppet! Have you grown in his eyes from your height? Don't forget that my claws can still reach your face."

She glanced at Dyrik and Lysin. "Even though you scorn me, don't let her hurt me! Though she is lower than I am, don't let her hit me."

"Lower?"

"Don't be so bitter, Hyrma," Halla said. "I came here because of Dyrik, and now that he is lost to me, I shall return to Achelis."

"What hinders you?" Hyrma asked.

Her answer was sharp and terse. "A foolish heart. I leave it here."

She stepped away from the others. "With Lysin?" Hyrma asked.

"With Dyrik."

Lysin stepped forward. "Don't worry, Halla, I won't let her hurt you."

Dyrik spoke too. "I won't either."

Halla paced. "In her anger Hyrma is mean and rude, even back when were were cubs. Even as she is small, she is strong."

The recipient of the insults bristled. "Small and low!" she spat. "Let me hurt her!"

Lysin blocked her path. "Leave, pebble."

Dyrik stepped beside Lysin, eager to show his worth as well. "Ignore her, Halla," he told her.

Halla stepped further away. "Enough of this folly," she growled. "I won't listen to any more of it."

And then she left.

Hyrma was silent. And then, she too, stalked away in the opposite direction.

"Your mistake's results," Osvur said, his gaze still trained on the Achelisians.

Ryllin was quick to respond, his words quick. "My mistake," he echoed. "But you did tell me to find him by his dark honey coat and his dark mane, did you not? But I cannot say I am sorry. This is quite the sport, and entertaining, too."

"Cover the night, Ryllin, and lead them all together," Osvur inctructed, "Then fix your error. I will take the fledgling from my queen, then, and remove the illusion from her as well."

"It must be done quickly," Ryllin warned. "Dawn will come soon."

"Then go, and do your work," was Osvur's response.

"I'll lead them up and down," he promised. First, he spoke with Dyrik's voice, and then Lysin's. Oh, this was brilliant. He loved it.

They were lured to sleep quite too easily, for his taste, but he put Halla to sleep as well. And then Hyrma came, so he made her slumber next. "I'll fix it, if that's what Osvur wants," he sighed. "When they wake, all should be well with them."

TIme for the waiting game, he supposed.

o - ~ - o

Thira was perched on a small tree, her feathers ruffled. "Here, sit," she said to Breen. "I wish to adorn your feathers of petals."

He did not respond. "Where did Gazania go?" he asked thoughtfully.

"Here," chirped the first warbler.

"Scratch my head, Gazania," Breen ordered. "Now, where is Web?"

One of the other warblers said very seriously, "Here, Breen."

"Go find me some wildflower honey," he told Web. "Now fly. Achene?"

The last warbler spoke more timidly than the others. "What do you wish of me?" she asked.

"Assist Gazania, Achene. My, usually my feathers aren't so stiff…" He trailed off.

Thira spoke. "Would you like a song from my warblers?" she asked.

"Okay," Breen said.

"Or prehaps something to eat?"

"I could eat some nice insects," he mused. "Or perhaps a worm, or some fresh carrion."

Thira nodded. "One of my warblers can fetch you berries," she added thoughtfully.

"I would rather have some nice grass," Breen replied, "but I'm getting awfully tired . . ."

She opened her wings the slightest bit. "Sleep, then," she told him. "I shall keep watch over you while you slumber." Thira glanced at Gazania and Achene. "Go, rest."

After both fell asleep, Osvur swooped down beside Ryllin. "Did you see that?" he asked, laughing. "That's the sweetest sight I've ever seen! I have already taken the fledgling she had, and now t's time to undo this bird's guise. Ryllin, remove the hog's head, please. I shall undo the tordor from Thira's eyes."

He squeezed a drop of other nectar into the queen's closed eyes. "Thira, wake," he said, his voice suddenly gentle.

"Oh!" She was awake and coherent within moments. "You would not be able to imagine the dreams I had! I was in love with a hog, of all things!"

Osvur nodded towards Breen, who was still asleep. "That hog?"

Thira frowned. "How ugly he seems now," she said, awed. "How did this happen?"

He did not answer, instead addressing Ryllin. "Remove the head, now."

Ryllin did so, muttering, "Let the fool see with his own two eyes."

"Now, Thira, let us dance." Osvur crooked his wings, preparing to lift into the sky. "Now that our friendship is renewed, I invite you to attend Theseus' sovereign ceremony tomorrow night."

She joined him, and they flew near and around each other in a vulture-dance.

"The morning approaches," Ryllin observed. "I can see the pale dawn-light coming up."

"We will venture out tomorrow night, then," Osvur ssaid to Thira.

"Then you must tell me about what happened," she persisted. "And, what of my fledgling?"

He did not meet her gaze, surveying the land before then. "Perhaps," he hedged, though he had no intention of doing so. She seemed satisfied.

As the three vultures winged away, Thorin, Hylla, Erynt, and the other lions padded to where they had been.

"Would one of you go fetch Pyrus?" Thorin asked. "He will be in charge of the preparations until we return, as Hylla and I shall be going away on a hunt today."

One of the younger members nodded and loped away.

"I love hunts," Hylla said. "The thrill of the chase is exhilerating. At my childhood home, we would always go on one big hunt every year."

"You shall surely enjoy this one," Thorin promised. "My pride is strong and capable‐oh!" Before him were the lions Erynt had brought with him a few days before. "Who are these?"

"My daughter," Erynt said slowly. "As well as Lysin, Dyrik, and Halla, it would seem." He seemed both disappointed and irritated.

"I would presume that they rose early to see the sunrise of our sovereign ceremony," Thorin said. "Erynt, is this the day Hyrma was supposed to give her answer?"

"Yes," Erynt answered, face twisting.

"Wake, friends," called Thorin, in a low, carrying voice. "Spring is past, no?"

"Sorry!" Lysin blurted, eyes still bleary with sleep.

Thorin looked amused. "I thought you were enemies, so why do you sleep next to each other?" he asked.

"I don't know how I got here," Lysin began, "but I will not lie. Hyrma and I came here to evade Achelis' ancient law."

"Kill them both!" Erynt cried.

Thorin ignored his outburst and motioned for Dyrik to speak. "Halla told me of their plan to escape, and so I followed them," he started. "Halla followed me, too. I know it seems strange, but the one I love now is Halla. Whatever I felt for Hyrma, I believe, was nothing but a cub's fantasy."

"I see," the to-be sovereign mused. "Well, you are fortunate, then. Erynt, the law has no place here, today. You shall be bonded tonight, alongside Hylla and I. Now, we should be going."

He padded away, Hylla by his side and his pride at his heels.

"Is this really happening?" Dyrik wondered. "It feels like we should be in a dream of sorts, doesn't it?"

"Everything seems out of focus," agreed Hyrma.

Halla tossed her head. "I don't really care," she said. "I have Dyrik now." She glanced at him, amber eyes filled with adoration.

"Should we follow Thorin?" asked Lysin. "Do we think it was real?"

"Yes, my father was there, too," Hyrma reminded. "Erynt wouldn't be in any dream of mine, that's for sure."

Dyrik glanced at the others. "Then let's follow him. We can talk about our dreams on the way there, too."

They departed, clustered closely together.

Breen stumbled out of a short, scraggly shrub, blinking rapidly. "Farland's cave! I'll remember that for sure, Quil!" He glanced around him, suddenly taking everything in. "They abandoned me! Quil, Samn, Thorn, Stirling, everyone!"

He paused. "I've had the most amazing vision," he announced. "It was so crazy!" He struggled for words. "I can't even say it all, it's that amazing." The little bird looked thoughtful. "I'll get Quil to mark it up on a stone, and I shall sing it during the ceremony," he decided.

Breen looked absolutely delighted with himself, perhaps a little too much.

o - ~ - o

"Is Breen back at his nest yet?" asked Quil. The group of actors was perched on a short shrub.

"Nope." Stirling shook his head. "He must have left . . . or something. I don't really know." He glanced at Cis.

"If he's gone," Cis said, "does that mean our play is ruined?"

"Perhaps," Quil replied. "Without Kyrus, Arleese will not be able to learn about Tirnen's plans, and therefore, the lions will be destroyed. And only Breen is capable to play Kyrus."

Samn approached Quil. "Hello, friends," he said, looking downcast. "I saw Thorin and his lioness heading towards the ceremony spot." He sighed. "We would have been highly esteemed had we gone forward with the play."

Cis shook his head. "Oh, no," he lamented. "He would have been great at it, too."

Quil blinked a few times as Breen flapped towards them. "But look, there he is! Breen, you're back to normal!"

"What happened?" Breen asked, frowning at their words. "I am here. I had a dream-"

"Where have you been?" Stirling cried, flinging himself forward. "Breen!"

"-but I cannot explain it," he said. "I will try, though, for all our sakes."

"Do tell," Quil told Breen.

"Oh, I can't, Quil. But I can tell you that our play has been chosen by Thorin for the ceremony! Now, all of us, we must meet at the ceremony. Make sure your feathers are neat, your plumage must be perfectly presentable!" Breen chirped excitedly, wings fluttering around. "Now away! We must go!"

o - ~ - o

"I think it's quite strange what the others spoke of," Hylla remarked, shifting.

Thorin laughed. "Their tale was strange indeed," he agreed, "but I don't for a second believe any of it. Love does queer things to the mind, you know."

She glanced at him. "But isn't it strange that they all said the same thing?" she wondered. "If it isn't true, then I find that admirable."

Both looked up when the four lions approached. "Here they come," Thorin said. He didn't answer Hylla's question. "Let joy reign your hearts and be merry," he told them.

"You as well," Lysin answered, courteous.

"What festivities will we hold?" asked Hyrma, bold as ever.

Thorin flicked his tail. "Pyrus?"

The hornbill swooped down, bowing. "I am here, Thorin," he announced. "As for facets of entertainment, I have compiled them all together. Would you like to hear them?"

"Of course," said the lion. "Please."

Pyrus cleared his throat. "The battle of Achelis," he began, "told by an Achelisian youth."

All six shook their heads. "No." Thorin's answer was crisp.

"The riot of the Cyrians."

Another no.

"The tedious brief acts of the heroic and meek Arleese," Pyrus said.

Thorin blinked. "What?"

"It drags," Pyrus informed. "When I saw the rehearsal, I must admit that it brought laughter upon me, as their Arleese was acting heroic but was truly meek inside."

He looked interested. "And who are the players?"

"Simply some common birds," Pyrus replied. "They are hard workers from an Achelisian colony."

"That is the one we shall see."

The little hornbill looked panicked. "No, not that one!" Then he took a deep breath, composing himself. "Thorin, that isn't something you want to see. I have seen it and I suffered for it."

"Pyrus, it has to be wonderful, for nothing can ever be wrong when intents are good. Bring them in, and let us watch their performance."

As Pyrus nodded slowly and left, Hylla leaned over and whispered, "I do hope nothing goes wrong."

"Nothing shall," Thorin answered softly, and she nodded, reassured. "It will be wonderful, you'll see."

Pyrus returned within moments, his feathers twitching. "Here is the introduction."

One small bird fluttered before them. "We mean no offense," he began. "If we do offend, it is with our goodwill. So that you should believe that we come to not offend. To show our full skill, that is the start of our end. Our only intent is for your delight. The actors are here, and from their act, you shall know all you should like to know."

He flew away.

"He does not seem to care for punctuation," commented Thorin.

"I believe it is better to speak true than to speak a lot," Lysin said.

"His speech was tangled in knots," Hylla agreed.

Thorin asked, "Who is next?"

The bird from before re-entered, trailed by many others. "In case you should find yourself confused," he said, "let me tell you what the act is about."

There were a few nods.

"This is Arleese, and this is Kyrus, her lover." He gestured to himself. "The one with the sandy and dusted feathers is the rocks of the cave where Arleese lives. Kyrus tells her of the vultures here. Now, this here is Kyre, Reix's advisor, who agrees to hear Arleese out when they fly through, though nobody else wants to. Reix is this one, the king of the lions, who Tirnen wants to kill most."

"Will the rocks speak?" wondered Thorin.

"Probably," snorted Dyrik.

Samn spoke next. "I am Samn, and I have the utmost honor of presenting Tirnen, the king of the vultures, who plots against the mighty lions of Achelis. I am the one who strikes fear across all the land, for I have plotted against lions, the fearsome king of beasts!"

There were no whispers that time.

Kyrus flew in beside Arleese, who sat preening her feathers next to the dusty-feathered Quil. "I have the grandest news for you!" Breen sang. "I heard these lions, and . . . "

Up above, Osvur watched carefully, eyes narrowed. What was this? He winced.

"Kyrus, what news have you brought here today? Vultures are never good signs . . . "

Osvur puffed up in indignation.

"I have but one request: tomorrow, meet me at Farley's cave instead of here-"

The "rocks" bristled. "Farland's cave!" Quil sounded strained.

"Meet me at Farland's cave instead of here!"

Osvur tuned it out. It was awful, clearly. Why had Thorin chosen entertainment so terrible? "And about horrible vultures, too," he grumbled. It was a disgrace to vultures. The vultures now had better be glad they have a righteous, brave king now.

Thorin coughed. "This is the worst I've ever heard."

"Thorin!" Hylla said. "You were the one to say it could never be terrible."

"I've changed my mind," he muttered lowly.

Somehow, the actors didn't hear a single word they said.

"Don't worry!" announced "Kyre" cheerfully. "The thorns Tirnen put in Reix's den will not cause any harm."

Dyrik groaned.

"We solemnly pledge it!" added Samn brightly.

Osvur retreated a little, the voices becoming less discernable. He only moved closer when the play was nearly over. If these commoners got it right, he'd be impressed.

He was not planning on being impressed.

At all.

"I, Reix," said Stirling, "promise that Tirnen will not really be hurt in this play, because it's not actually Tirnen!"

"Really," Lysin said.

"It's actually Samn, my friend!" Stirling then proceeded to tackle Samn, who fought him off.

"Hey!" Quil squawked, from where he had been standing the whole time. "Samn - Tirnen - you're supposed to let Stirling - Reix - "kill" you!"

Samn looked sheepish. "Oops. Sorry, Quil." Then, "Oh! I've been killed!" He collapsed dramatically on the ground, wings splayed out awkwardly and feet straight up in the air.

"Now," Thorin said, "Reix will call Arleese over, and his crowning her a hero will end the play, I believe."

"Arleese, I thank you for informing us of Tirnen," Stirling said, trying to make his voice as deep as it could go. "I now dub you 'Arleese, the hero of Achelis'!" Then he attempted to roar like a lion.

All the lions present winced, but Stirling didn't seem to notice.

"Thank you, o' great Reix!" Cis chirped, fluffing out his feathers. His voice was unnaturally high and squeaky.

"And that ends our play!" Thorn said, doing an awkward bow.

There was a moment of silence, and then Thorin said, "Good performance, Quil," to the still-dusty bird.

All of the actors seemed to glow before they departed.

"It's late," Hyrma remarked.

"All of you, go rest," Thorin said, glancing at Hylla. "It is almost time for the vultures to come out. See the moon?"

They all padded off, and Osvur was joined shortly about Thira.

"We're going to have a talk later about that fledgling," she warned.

He sighed, but did not answer.

"It is our time," Ryllin said. "All of the day-creatures have gone off to slumber."

Osvur began to curve through the air, Thira copying his every move. Perhaps he was copying her. There was no sure way to know.

"Until dawn's rise," Osvur announced, "we shall go bless all of Achelis this night, to celebrate in our own way."

As the kettle moved on, wings thundering like a thousand heartbeats, only Ryllin remained. "If we have offended," he muttered, "in any way, forgive us, for that is not our intent. Let this become no more than a vision, a delirious dream. If need be, I will mend these strained realtions."

Before long, his wingbeats joined those of the others.

And by dawn's rise, there was no sign that they had ever been there at all.

fin.