It was refreshing for Damon to be alone in the house, with nothing much to do aside from bore himself by thinking. Right now he could have a drink, but he was planning on making a visit, and he didn't want to end up offending his "old friend". If there was one thing that he never wanted to do, it was to be offensive towards the one who had kept him sane throughout the years.
Damon hadn't visited him in a while now, so he thought about taking a gift – one that would show that he was still loyal and thinking about him, even when they were separated. Their relationship was very close – brotherly, he could describe it as, and it was akin to that with which he had once held with Stefan, over one hundred years ago, back when they were humans and Katrina hadn't tainted their lives.
However, what gift could he possibly take to such a powerful and close friend that could make him stand out? He'd thought about wine, but decided against it – it could cause some problems if his friend couldn't digest it properly. Then he thought food, but they didn't have anything that he thought would be of interest. Jewellery? Nah, thought Damon. He wasn't the type to be interested in jewels of any sort. Though he had an eye for detail, it was usually Damon that felt obsessive over shiny objects when they were cruising with one another.
Then he decided that he'd simply get him something on the way. Something that would show his appreciation, but wouldn't be too offensive. Damon could remember his tastes; what he said he liked, and what he said was a "pet hate". Maybe now it could be a time to show off his skills and earn some respect.
Stepping out into the back garden, he looked around to ensure that he was alone, and then switched. From his human form, he became a crow, with sleek glossy feathers and sharp beady eyes. In appearance he was stout and compact, neat for a crow. He was one foot and a half in length. Light reflected off of his beak, which was just as pointed and dangerous as his talons, and his tail sifted together idly as he stared up at the sky.
It awaited him. Called him. Needed him.
In one smooth stroke he had taken flight, and rode to soar atop a warm summer drift. Plumage on his tail sent a shadowed rainbow sweeping across the ground as he gained height and tucked his feet into the safety of his body. Trees spread out around him as he crossed the boundary and headed into the forest, but kept his distance from the other murders of crows that he could sense in the distance. Though they usually let him pass through, they were still territorial, and he didn't want to be caught in their lands.
The crow kept himself steady as the soft, warm wind battered at his underbelly. He looked right, then left, searching for something intently. Then he saw it; a black vole nibbling at some shoots of grass. As of yet it was unaware of his presence.
Hunting instinct took over and he surged towards the vole, snatching it up in his talons before it could so much as squeak, and carried it into the air. Damon had to beat his wings a little bit harder to get back into safer drifts – he wasn't used to carrying prey, since crows usually scavenged for their meals. But he was no ordinary crow, and his friend was extraordinary.
Damon expected to see the familiar shape of his friend nestled within the rocks by the waterfall, but instead he found it empty. It was mildly surprising, seeing as his friend had said he would usually always be around, but he figured that he was simply out getting something to eat or stretching his muscles. The black vole was limp as he placed it by the water's edge, but it was still warm. The summer sun was helping with that and he hoped that his friend would enjoy it.
He must have been there for about ten minutes before he heard a distant heartbeat high above. Dark, round eyes followed and there he was in all his glory, gliding leisurely on the wind to conserve his strength. He was glorious. Absolutely glorious.
The one-foot-and-a-half size of Damon's crow form was dwarfed and, as he usually did, he found himself shrinking down submissively, flattening himself to the ground as he was circled by his friend.
He was over four and a half feet in length. His wingspan reached over nine. For a raptor of his breed, he was very large – over half a foot in what would be considered normal. His feathers were long; his bones sturdy and strong. It was impossible to think that such a massive bird could be so fast, Damon thought. The first time he'd challenged the behemoth to a race, he'd literally been left in the dust of the giant raptor's dust. Not anywhere near as fast, or as strong. For someone like Damon who rebelled in the face of authority, even he dared not challenge such a mighty being.
What struck him most of all wasn't the size however, but the tail. It was long and diamond shaped with each feather spread out and as dark as the night sky. Then the large raptor folded in his wings and spread out deathly sharp claws, sinking them into the earth as he landed and towered over Damon. It was a Wedge-Tailed Eagle.
"Fledgeling," murmured the raptor by way of greeting. "You have not visited me in some time."
The crow was fully grown, but by the raptor's standards, he was but a chick. Damon knew that this male could shred him with no problem at all. "I've had problems at my nest," he said solemnly, keeping his head low as his dark brown friend reached down and drank from the pristine lake. "I would have come sooner, but..."
"I understand," said the raptor, pausing in his drink. "But you know that I am not simply here to be your counsel. I don't expect to be surrounded by those who simply want things of me."
"I would never do such a thing to you!" Damon protested defensively, his voice almost urgent and desperate. Almost. "You're my friend! It's just that... So much has happened lately... I couldn't find time to get away."
"The no-wing is still bothering you in your own territory," surmised the raptor, "And trying to compete for your... mate?"
Damon winced. In bird language, for some things there were no other words to explain, which often meant sensitive things were said bluntly. The eagle was in fact referring to Elena, and although they were not technically mates, he was hoping she would become that eventually. "I'm trying to chase him away..."
Stepping away from the lake, the Wedge-Tailed Eagle turned to face the puny bird. "And?"
"He is too powerful. He and his nest-mates will not leave peacefully. I have tried to kill them..."
There was a glimmer of something unreadable in the raptor's eyes and a brief lapse of silence. Then he spoke. "How many times must I tell you, fledgeling, that your inability to think through a plan will not get you anywhere?" Damon flinched and, despite his rising agitation and desire to stand up for himself, his primal side had other ideas and he crouched even lower. "You are like a disturbed snake. Cunning, but paranoid. Your philosophy is to strike before you are struck, even if they mean you no harm. You have been alone for so long and it is time you started to find allies. Ones who will prove their loyalty to you when the time is right."
Damon's feathers ruffled with indignation. "I don't need friends!" He cawed furiously. Fluffing up in an attempt to make himself look bigger, he added, "I'll be happy as long as they stop intruding in my territory!"
The raptor whirled around, eyes blazing with controlled anger. "Must I remind you again, fledgeling?" His tone was aggressive. "Where would you be without the poacher? Without your nest-mate? Where would you be without me?"
The poacher was referring to Alaric. The nest-mate, to Stefan. Damon's jaw would have clenched had he been in his human form, but instead he simply squeezed sticks in his feet until they snapped. "Dead," he conceded, knowing that he had to answer the great raptor. "And of no use to anyone. Or insane, and even worse off most likely."
Sifting his feathers against his colossal frame, the eagle inclined his head in what could be seen as a nod. "Exactly my point. The no-wings that you chirrup of are creatures that require a flock in order to defend their territory. Get them alone and they are weak. Countless moons and suns ago no-wings were strong and would not have been such pitiful, carnal beasts that they now are. In that time, the no-wings were great and intelligent, unafraid to battle and to protect what they claimed."
Damon listened intently. He'd calmed down a bit and found himself enthralled by the soothing tone of the raptor. His side brushed against the vole he'd caught and he tried to envisage such a time, but in the recent times, all he could think of was Klaus and his family, and how they must have been. Had they also changed?
"The no-wing desires power through vast numbers," the raptor went on. "You are acting too hastily, fledgeling. Your heart leads you too often and you are straying onto the beginning of different flight paths. Should you carry on the way you are, you lose sight of the stars and you will become lost."
He noted the use of 'will' in that sentence, not 'can'. Was he really in that much danger? "My friend, are you... Trying to teach me something?" Damon inquired.
The raptor turned his head towards the crow, then shook his head. "You once told me that the no-wing wants to build his own hunting flock, and as we chirrup his flock amounts to great numbers. Like no-wings, flying in numbers is great. You are protected. Those who do not wish to challenge you will not dare. What you need to do is to fly over him where he will not see you. Only then will you have the advantage."
Damon took a moment to process this information. Then it clicked. "The hunting bird will never look above for prey," he breathed, dawning in realisation. "Should I spy on him?"
"Crows are less conspicuous," the raptor suggested. "If I were to, I would be spotted a lot quicker. But you should stay amongst other birds so that he does not notice you do not breathe as the others do. But I shall aid you, fledgeling. If you take watch when the golden eye bathes us in its light, I shall do so when the silver eye comes."
Damon dipped his head respectfully. "I would appreciate that. And we would meet here to discuss our findings?"
"It shall be done. At each time when the silver-eye is twice halved."
Every weekend, Damon translated. He nodded his approval of this new plan and then moved to drink from the lake. A soft drizzle of rain started to fall from overhead, even though the golden eye was still gazing down upon the earth. The two quickly retreated back into the eagle's rocky alcove.
"I brought this as a gift," the crow cawed, then nudged the black vole towards his friend.
Deep brown eyes examined the prey. It was plump and cool, having not died long ago. With a soft trilling sound within his throat, he accepted the gesture and held the body down with a foot and started to tear into the meat.
They talked until the silver-eye had started to rise on the horizon and the sky darkened. When Damon finally had to leave, the raptor followed him into the sky, but drifted in the clouds where the humans would not see him.
"I shall see you at next twice-half silver eye," called Damon as he descended down towards his house.
There was a single farewell call from above. The two went their separate ways.
~~~ ~~~ ~~~ x ~~~ ~~~ ~~~
The raptor observed from above as Damon reverted to his no-wing form and vanished within his large nest. The vampire cast a final lonely glance over his shoulder before he secured his nest and went back to mull over their conversation.
Damon-crow had told him everything. There was nothing less than absolute trust in the bond that they shared. The raptor knew everything about his past, about his family, his desires, fears and knew all of his plans. Within the ten years they'd known each other they had grown extremely close, he had more often than not been involved within his plans or his attempts at reaching his goals.
As he flew over the forest and settled back in his alcove, the night had arrived and there was but one left to speak with before he was done with his duties for the night. He waited until the moon had reached its peak, sitting as high as it could go, then strode out into the grassy clearing.
At the same time his wide eyes locked onto the shadows to his left, there was a ripple of sandy gold-tawny fur, reminiscent of the sun. Thick paws thumped against the ground but there was no heartbeat, no warmth, to match the expression in her face.
She was broad-shouldered, larger than her species kind and heavier, though her muscles burst with power and strength. Dark spots adorned her fur, fading around her snow-covered chin and charcoal lips. She was long-bodied and slender with a winding, tufted tail and dark irises. Rounded, black-backed ears flicked to survey her surroundings with caution. Once she was sure they were alone, she padded forward on branch-thick legs and rubbed her head against the raptor's body.
This she-cat was a Lijagulep – a hybrid between a male lion and a female jaguar-leopard. Though she was fully grown and larger than some males of her species, she also had an air of youth about her, but eyes that reflected wisdom beyond her years.
"Fledgeling!" Chirruped the raptor in greeting, extending a wing to brush affectionately against the Lijagulep's shoulder. "The down on your body looks radiant beneath silver-eye."
The Lijagulep beamed. "Your fur is also beautiful, littermate," she said. "So, are you going to tell me what has happened? We must return to the den before we are missed and silverpelt fades."
Silverpelt was cat-talk for the night. The raptor was possibly the only bird to understand cat-speak, and to speak it as well. With detail he repeated what he had heard from his crow-friend, cautiously watching the she-cat's expression intently for any change in emotion.
"He still searches," she growled after a moment, crouching on the ground with a haunted expression on her face. "Are you sure we cannot tell him of your plan? What if he causes our deaths before we can put our plan into action?"
Instinctively the eagle bristled. His body tensed and he glared at the Lijagulep sternly, but then flattened his feathers and forced himself to settle. "We cannot," he said in warning. "Should the plan be unveiled and something should happen, he might make the mistake of alerting him."
The Lijagulep rasped her tongue over her chest fur to smooth it down and gazed at the Wedge-Tailed Eagle. "I understand. But still, I don't like this, littermate. What if we fail?"
"I've researched this for over two hundred years," replied the raptor with confidence. "We shall not fail. And when it is done..."
"We will be free." She purred and nuzzled the raptor affectionately. "You always were there for us," she whispered, inhaling his scent in a steady, deep breath. "Even back then. I remember when I was still a young cub, you taught me how to fight in secret against father's orders. When silver-eye was bright and full, you'd tell us stories to distract us from the wolves... Our youngest littermate really looked up to you before he joined the stars. We all did. We still do."
The warmth that churned his belly was hard to describe and he felt choked. Not often was he spoken to in high favour; he craved praise and acceptance, even amongst his own. To hear that he was so important to his nest-mates...
They both sat there for a while; the Lijagulep ran her tongue over his feathers to groom him in a gesture of affection while he preened her fur with soft but swift nips of his beak. They were there for perhaps half an hour before they decided to leave. The raptor felt encouraged from the earlier moments with the Lijagulep and his eyes were bright as they changed back into their other forms and begun the trek back home.