For QLFC: Round 4: Pet Me
Chaser 3 – Write from a pet's perspective about an adventure.
Prompts: (song) There's No Home – Miley Cyrus/Barking at the Moon – Jenny Lewis; (action) running; (location) Eeylops Owl Emporium
…
This was the story of a young boy who believed that he was different.
His many brothers and sisters had encouraged this kind of thinking – what with their rowdy play and sharp sense of humor. He could not be less like they were, preferring his feathers to be clean and unruffled and his conversations serious and thoughtful.
He was different from all the rest of his family, who sought only to eat and play and live happily in their little nest in the corner of the big forest they called home.
This young boy, however, had bigger dreams. He had ambition.
"I want more," he told his father, a big screech owl with a black-and-golden pattern on his chest. "There must be more to life than hunting and playing tag."
"What's wrong with tag?" his youngest brother protested. "Just because you're no good at it, Sacha, doesn't mean that –"
Their mother hushes him, nudging another rat in his direction. She looks at him sympathetically. "Sacha, dear, I know how you feel. I've heard that before, from Misha and Andrei and even Sergei, sometimes." She stopped abruptly as Sacha bristled at being compared to his older brothers yet again.
His father sighed. "Sacha, this is how we have lived for decades upon decades. Our forefathers hunted and mated within the very branches of this tree. This is what our family does. Could you please try to find some contentment in that?"
But Sacha had none. He looked up at the sky and watched owls – owls just like him – swoop past the forest, often carrying a parcel or piece of paper in their claws. His heart ached as he watched them. He wanted to be like them, he thought. They had purpose – unlike his family.
One day, his frustration built until he burst. He picked a fight – first with his younger brother and then his baby sister and, finally, his father.
"I'm leaving," he thundered. "And I'm never coming back."
He spread his wings and flew away, deaf to the calls and cries of his mother and siblings.
…
His fury fueled him until he has gone far away, much, much farther than he had ever gone before. He had flown for many hours. Weary, he scanned his surroundings and settled on an abandoned tree.
"Well, this is home for now, I suppose," he said aloud to himself.
His first day went well. He hunted successfully – bringing home a feast for himself. He was proud – remembering, with a sense of viciousness, how his father had derided his ability to care for himself away from the family nest.
"See what I can do, Father?" he thinks. "I can do this much better – better than the others ever could."
However, as night fell, the little nest he made for himself grew chilly and uncomfortable. He found himself missing the snarky, loving banter and bickering that so often took place between his siblings. The bachelor's nest he had hastily put together all for himself was so different from the warm and cozy nest where he has been squirmed between two brothers.
"You don't miss it," he told himself sternly. "How many times did you complain about Mother's smothering and about how unbearably noisy Joel and Misha were whenever you tried to sleep? You're just not used to it yet, that's all."
Still, the next day, he decided to leave the tree and continue on his journey. After all, he was on the search for better things, and better things would not be found in an old tree in a near-empty patch of land.
That was when disaster struck.
He was soaring through the air when a loud cracking sound echoed through the clearing.
He tilted to the side, startled, trying to look behind him to see where the sound had come from. And suddenly – there was pain.
He gave a loud hoot as his wing exploded in a ball of hurt. The pain was far worse than anything he had ever experienced before. It was excruciating. It was agony.
Without his realizing it, his wings folded up and he began to plummet towards the earth.
Right before he hit the ground, he lost consciousness.
…
He woke up in a small dark place. Panicked, he tried to stretch out his wings and take flight, but he hit a hard surface and fell on his back. Reaching out, he discovered the cold, metal bars around him.
A cage.
His heart thudded loudly. He had been captured.
For years, his mother and father had warned their children of such situations, but the stories had seemed only like dark fairytales to him. In their safe corner in the forest, human hunters were extremely rare.
He felt cold.
His wing still ached but the bleeding had stopped.
He tried to think of a way to escape – a daring plan that would win awe from his younger brothers, but he could not even see the outline of his enclosure.
He didn't have much time to think, however, before light streamed into the room as the doors burst open. He squawked indignantly as rough hands handled his cage.
"Oh, shut up, owl," the man grumbled, hitting the cage against the wall. Sacha hooted, startled as he rattled around his cage, hitting his head and then his injured wing.
"Oi! Try to keep the merchandise in good condition, won't you?" his partner said from across the room. He was carrying two cages of his own, too. "You know that Eeylops won't buy them if they ain't fixable."
"Aw, he's fine," the man holding onto his cage said. "Aren't ye, ye little fellow?" he said, lifting the cage in front of his face and making a nasty grin. "Now, be quiet or else I'll figure out how t' make some owl soup."
Sacha quaked as he kept his beak firmly shut. These men had shot him. They were dangerous, and now, Sacha's very life was in their hands.
…
Two weeks later, Sacha had a new home once more. The man, Eeylops, had bought him from the men, scolding them for his injured wing. He had been bandaged and treated with cool concern. He was kept at the back of the store until he had been studied with a critical eye and judged to be well enough to be sold once more.
Once he was in the front of the store, he huddled in a corner of the cage. He was sharing a perch with about 20 other owls, who were all different levels of mean and jaded, depending on how long they had been there.
Sacha shuffled a bit on his perch, accidentally bumping into the owl beside him.
"Watch it, kid," the owl growled. "Or I'll make you lose that bum wing for good."
Sacha swallowed a lump in his throat. He missed his family, with their teasing and laughing and simple games. He could admit that now.
…
Three months passed slowly in the store. Sacha slumped further and further down on his perch. He had no false pride now. All he wanted was the comfort of his mother's wing. He gave a quiet, sad hoot at the thought of his father. His family must hate him now. There was no chance that they didn't.
Sacha kept himself busy with these thoughts day-in and day-out. One day, during the summer rush in the store, a bespectacled middle-aged man with bright red hair entered the store. He spoke to Eeylops for a while, polishing his glasses a tad nervously.
"An owl on the cheap side, eh?" Eeylops said, rubbing his chin. "Well, Arthur, I might just have one for you. He came in a couple months ago with a bad wing. It's all good now, you know, we've taken care of him and everything – but I suppose I could give a friend like you a good discount on him."
Eeylops took Sacha out of his cage and into a smaller one, and the transaction was made.
…
Arthur – who turned out to be Father, or Dad, depending on the boy's mood– presented him to the boy who would become his fledgling.
Percy received his owl gratefully, and from that day forward, Sacha became known as Hermes.
Percy brought Hermes to his room and settled him down on his desk.
"Hermes," the boy said solemnly. "Welcome home."
Hermes took one look at the shabby but clean room and nestled quietly under the boy's palm.
This was a good home.
…
Years later, when his fledgling would claim his own differences, spurn his family, and run far away, Hermes would go with him.
He would be with him throughout his own dark times.
He was there when his boy realized the coldness of being away from the warmth of family.
He was there when his boy realized that he was wrong.
He was there when his boy tried to make it better by helping those being hurt on the sly.
After all, Sacha had been through all of it before.
And when his fledgling, with tears in his eyes, finally turned to him and said, "Hermes, I think it's time for me to go home," he felt proud of his boy.
His boy would be brave. His boy would go home – back to where he belonged.
And while Sacha himself may never had the chance to go home, Hermes had learned his lesson and made his own home. After all, there was no home like the one you've got.
Because that home belongs to you.