((EDIT February 21, 2018 Wensday))
A/N: Guess who's back from the dead?! Well, not dead, but inactivity.
Just first off, thank you all so much for your support :). It really motivated me and I appreciate it so much ^u^. I saw that more people had followed/favourited despite it being a while, and so many great reviews! I have been doing better health wise (I have some doctors appointments soon :) ) and want to thank you all for your tremendous patience. Thank you for understanding life is there, we have responsibilities, and things happen.
Thank you to Pegasister60, LunarCatNinja, acrisafu, Shiloh, KawaiiFangirlOvrLord, JohannahMolinar, GodOfGreed, RaeSoul, Pikachu3'syou16, JohannahLovell (by the way your e-mail didn't pop up, sorry), and MagentaMustang for reviewing on the last chapter!
I apologize if this is a little awkwardly written; I had started it immediately after Ascent Part 1 and have been writing it on and off, so it may be choppy. Plus I'm typing it up on my phone :(. App screen is too small.
IMPORTANT! I wanted to keep you guys updated on this (and I guess any other?) fanfics I'm working on. So I made an Instagram (I apologize if you don't have one or access to one D:). It's Shenanigans_FF (may be all lowercase). You can also hashtag (ugh) workingonsacrifice to find posts. Please DO NOT feel obliged to follow it; it's only if you want to. I will post updates and possibly art sketches for this fic in particular.
Ima gonna shut it now so you all can read :D.
DISCLAIMER: I do not own! Jay Stephens does (I think that's his name)!
Ascent Part 2
Far away; the Saturday's airship
Fiskerton hummed to himself nervously as he made his way through the metal corridor, intent on checking up on Abbey Grey.
Doc and Drew had left the airship about an hour ago to go help the other Grey sister - Doctor Miranda Grey. She was researching in the depths of some remote mountain full of hollowed out tunnels. Doc and Drew had gone in, gloves lit and sword blazing, telling Fisk with grim faces that they wouldn't be gone too long. Fisk felt momentary pity for whatever entity was causing trouble.
His hind claws clicked softly on the metal floor, the sound mostly masked by the brush of his fur against the steel. It was so quiet that he could hear the electricity racing through the walls and humming in the lights.
He hated being in such an empty place, all alone.
Soon enough he made it to the med bay. Trying to be discreet (but failing due to his height) he tip-toed into the room, scrunching down slightly. He flinched as he heard the audible click of the door closing. But when he opened his eyes, Abbey Grey was still blissfully unconscious, and breathing normally. Fiskerton checked the machines recording her vitals, and gleaned from what little he understood that she was doing okay. He left the room, closed the door softly, and continued prowling through the all-too-loud silence of the halls.
He hoped that they'd all be back soon.
LINE BREAK LINE BREAK LINE BREAK LINE BREAK LINE BREAK
Brownish fur clashed against the azure that had been filling Zak's vision as the cryptid tried to clamp down on his throat. Instinct prompted Zak to shoot out his hand, right into the Bristlebeast's throat, fingers curling harshly into the fur, as his other hand shot to the creature's chest. He managed to throw the slavering beast off of himself, leaping to his feet in the same instant and snarling at the pack around them.
Doyle had some makeshift weapon; it was a rock with a rope securely around it, which he twirled furiously, striking any of the Bristlebeast's that came too close (Zak heard a few satisfying yelps). Ulraj stood in some position akin to a martial arts pose - weaponless. But the look on his face said he was anything but. He knew the Kumari could hold his own.
Zak unhooked The Claw from his belt, ignoring the fiery pain in his left shoulder. That could be dealt with later.
For now, they had to deal with the Bristlepack.
There was maybe fifty, in all; they were shaped somewhat like coyotes, but with shorter muzzles, and they were hunkered lower to the ground. They weren't quite as big, either. Their fur was almost a single tone: a pale, dusty mud color, the tips of their hairs a dirty frost, fur bristled out and looking hard to touch. Their eyes were bright yellow, like blazing suns. Zak saw one - an adult, he presumed - snap at a younger looking one, and his eyes widened a fraction when he saw the teeth. He recognized the canines and razor-shearing teeth for what they were - if they had managed to get in his throat, there'd be no saving him.
They had started to edge closer, their shrill whines picking up with agitation. Zak snarled again, showing his teeth in aggression (impressively scary for a human, but nowhere near as damaging as these beasts), and he heard Doyle and Ulraj both yelling harsh words in various languages. Zon took to the air, hanging near Doyle, and swiping with her clawed forearms and snapping with her muzzle. The Bristlepack weren't going to hold back much longer though, and then they'd be in big trouble.
Some of the Bristlebeasts began to lower themselves, until they were almost touching the floor, preparing to spring. They leapt back suddenly with a yelp as large shadows were cast down on them, and something cried, "Kreeya! Mangemutts! Gettim Lads! Save some pelts fer th' mothers' nests! Getz, Breaze; whit me. Hurry now! Kyeeeel!"
A few different vocals - hawk-shrieks, eagle-churrs, and kite-bellows - rang out like bells, clamoring with the whining snarls. Zak heard Ulraj yell in surprise, and Doyle grunt, startled, just before a pair of clawed talons clamped on his own shoulders. Thick forepaws battled the Bristlebeast before him, making it tumble away snout over paws. He tried to glance up, but the cryptid that was latched onto him blocked the sun and cast them into shadow. The cryptid chuttered down in a strange accent. "Letsah git goin' 'fore Dennal gets grangy 'bout our delay, lad. Not like Ih'm needin' anuther lecture so soon."
There was a powerful thrust of wings, and another two in rapid succession until they were airborne. It seemed that whatever cryptid had rescued him had to put all its effort forth to haul them into the air. The ground began to spread out before Zak, the predators growing smaller, and smaller, as the world grew bigger, and bigger. Soon they were striding forward, the eerie whines dying behind them.
The cryptid carrying him was in the lead, obviously relishing in its speed. Zak thought he could hear Doyle and Ulraj speaking a ways back, as well as a whole group of cryptids flying and chatting. When he tried to turn his head to look behind himself, his savoir snapped, "Can ya not? 'Tis hard 'nough dragging yer weight an' mine."
"Uh...sorry?" Zak replied sheepishly. His rescuer merely huffed. He took the following time of silence to observe. From what he could see, the cryptid's two front limbs were covered in fur and ended in large, bulky paws. He could feel that the ones gripping his shoulders, though, were different; bony shape an sharp claws suggesting they were talons. He ran through a few possible myths that fit what little he knew of the cryptid's description. None of the regions fit, though, but it was always possible that this species had cousins or had branched out to faraway lands.
After some more tense flying, Zak decided to strike up some conversation. Awkwardly of course.
"So, um, thanks for helping us back there."
A grunt.
The sound of wings flapping. Silence.
"I'm Zak," he eventually said. "What's… Do you guys go by names? I don't want to assume." (He had done that once with a hive-mind species and boy, had they been mad.)
The reply he received was as cutting as a retort.
"My name is Breaze an' Ih'm th' Prince of the Curr-airre; of course we 'ave names ya blithering, idiotic human!"
The first thought to run through Zak's mind was, man, someone's got a temper. The second, a vague wave in the back of his mind, was that he heard that name, along with others shouted back when they were rescued, and he should have remembered. Third, was to laugh - which actually did make its way out as a snigger. It was partially the absurd way human had been addressed to him, and also the fact that he wasn't, technically, human.
His savior - Breaze - sighed, and Zak could almost see his eyes rolling. "What now? Did sumthin' strike yer fancy?"
This made him snigger harder, before it turned to full out laughter. They dipped dangerously and Breaze snapped at him to control himself. Zak was able to tone it down, and answered through chuckles, "Never really been addressed that way before; 'human'," he tried to say it in the same churr, but couldn't quite grasp it. "Y'see, I'm not completely human - but I'll explain more when we get to your people."
He heard a skeptical chirrup, then Breaze grumbled, "well ya look like a human to me, but whadda I know?"
The trip flew by in a blur after that (no pun intended). Gradually, they gained even more height, the world azure sky and orange dirt bridging at the horizon. A monolith came into view, growing as they approached. As detail faded into sight, Zak saw that from the top going down were crags and cliffs, shaded from the sun. The top wasn't as flat as he at first thought; there were rocks and boulders of varying size, and dips and hollows. Zak decided to glance at the ground, shading his eyes. He saw that the forest here was less dead and more desolate - a somber swath of green amongst the ochre earth. In the distance was a glittering river.
"An' here's the ol' Crag - our home."
They began to descend, Breaze flapping his great wings powerfully as they began to touch down. Zak glimpsed various shapes scatter, the little details he saw inclining him towards a certain cryptid legend. The world tumbled as he was dumped rather unceremoniously, and he heard a similar 'oof' from Ulraj and Doyle. A mere moment later, there was a screech, followed by a thud, announcing Zon's arrival. Zak stood, dusting himself off, and went to turn and thank Breaze once more, but a large, booming voice stopped him.
"Welcome, friends, to the Court of the Curr-airre! I am Fefven, Emprire of this court!"
Okay, I am definitely leaning towards Griffin-like legend with these guys, Zak thought.
The creature before him - Fef-en ((silent 'V')) - could only be compared to such creatures. His head resembled that of some great Sea Eagle, the plumage color same throughout his… fur? Or were they small, soft feathers? Some sort of ear tufts rose from his head, as straight and pristine as the great wings that towered from the same area as the shoulder blades from compact, well-muscled shoulders, the limbs below just as strong. His forelegs ended in great forepaws, shaped like a cat's (or a lion's), but as for the back legs … they appeared to grow bonier the further down you looked, ending in a set of wicked, scaled talons. It was hard to tell where exactly the fur (feathers?) ended, and where scales began. Looking back to Fefven's face, Zak met large, dilated eyes, almost pink in tone. Although his eyes were sharp, there was a kindness in them.
When Zak shifted his gaze to Fefven's son, he saw Breaze wasn't quite as imposing. He looked quite different too. (Perhaps he's adopted? Zak thought). Breaze's expression was more surly; his eyes were a fierce, burning red-brown. Zak recognized that his plumage was that of a Red-tailed Hawk.
Ulraj, Doyle, and Zon had all taken place close to Zak; there was a wariness coming off all of them, as well as weariness. But, although wary, Zak wasn't afraid. His instincts had sharpened when fighting the Bristlepack, and something told him that the Curr-airre could be trusted. He felt Zon nudge his arm, and he indulged her with a reassuring pat.
He looked to Doyle, and realized his uncle was looking to him. But then again, he was a cryptidzoologist in training. And Kur.
Some form of ancient respect unfurled within him, dictating his next action. He gave a slow, half-bow, but kept his head tilted up, and meeting the king's eyes.
"Thank you kindly, sir. I'm Zak Saturday; this is my Uncle Doyle Blackwell, and my friends Prince Ulraj, and Zon Jurassic. Thank you - and your Court - very much for saving us from the Bristlepack."
Fefven's eyes shone; Zak could tell that the Emprire had taken a liking to him. He clacked his beak, and one of their rescuers - this one marked like a barn owl, with frosty blue eyes - came forward. When he spoke, Zak recognized him as the one who'd ordered Breaze and another Curr-airre to save them.
"Well we 'ad heard the Bristlepack keenin' an' thought ta go check it out. Lo' be'old these four tried ta fight'im! Couldn't let suhm brave ol' souls like these jus' die, now could Ih?"
Fefven nodded, churring appreciatively. "Thank you, Dennal. Kanren," he clacked to a female, long-legged buzzard-cat. "Coul' d'ya go and get our friend, please? Ih'm sure she'll be mighty pleased." Karen nodded, then left, bounding somewhere past the boulders.
Before he could even dwell on who 'she' was, movement caught his attention. A smaller, chubby Curr-airre ambled up, puffing out his chest. He reminded Zak of some bird he'd seen a long time ago - a kite? - but with bright green eyes. This time, though, when he began to speak, Zak noticed something about their beaks. They didn't seem to really be beaks at all - rather, he saw the surface was covered in some sort of velvety fuzz, and teeth gleamed when the 'kite' opened his maw. They seemed to be actually more muzzle-like in structure, but ending in the typical shape of a beak. Strange.
"Whell," the kite-like one whistled. "Ih'd say that Breaze an' Ih did quite well - eh Sirrah?"
Breaze, who he'd saddled up next to, rolled his eyes, but his father squinted at the kite-cat menacingly. Rather than being intimidated - even when the Emprire took a step forward - he grinned, somewhat foolishly. Then the king gave a shrieking laugh.
"Arrarharharhah! By Soari's wings, little Getz! Nothing can faze ya, eh? Fine, fine; Ih'll let ya two go on one of the missions soon. Least ya deserve, eh?" He winked at Breaze. "You got a good, loyal friend, son."
The red-tail let a small smile slip through.
There was more conversation amongst the Curr-airre, light and almost bantering. For the most part, Zak and company were ignored, though a few Curr-airre squinted at them humorously or flicked an eartuft towards them. Ulraj tried to follow the conversation as best as he could, but the lighter, airy sounds and strange speech escaped him. He eventually muttered 'air creatures' in irritation, his own accent much thicker and deeper sounding. Zak was sure the Curr-airre had just as hard a time understanding the fish prince.
Doyle actually seemed to follow, for the most part, his days of traveling to remote places as a bounty hunter helping him pick up on accents better. The redhead quirked his mouth in amusement at times. Zak, of course, had the advantage of his connective powers that, when not even actively being used, passively kicked in when needed. But he actually found the Curr-airre pretty easy to understand.
As for Zon, she merely wandered around, sniffing at what appeared to be a northern hawk owl if some type.
The conversation was at the point where it began to lull, but faded out even further for Zak when instinct began to coil up defensively inside him. It wasn't that he felt hunted exactly, but…
He whipped around, and catching a flash of something, stuck his arm out quickly, despite his protesting shoulder. A string wrapped itself tightly around his forearm, and something plastic smacked the back of his hand.
"Yeowwww!"
The yo-yo slipped off of his wrist as he hopped around in pain, clutching the bruised appendage tightly. Wadi came out from behind a boulder, trying to stifle her laughter and failing. Kanren was beside her. A couple chuckles shreeked throughout the Court.
Zak blinked back tears of pain, hissing at Wadi through gritted teeth. " 'S not funny!"
Her chuckles had died down as she patted him on the shoulder. "It's good to see you too, Zak Saturday."
He glared a little longer from where he was hunched, then straightened up and grinned.
They weren't expecting it when Ulraj ran over and pulled them into a group hug.
LINE BREAK LINE BREAK LEIN BEARK LINE BREAK
Wadi's story was similar - if not simpler - than theirs.
After getting split from Doyle, she had managed on her own a couple of hours. Or so she had thought. Luckily, the few Bristlepack beasts that had been shadowing her had had a mishap. So she had ran; ran for her life. She had gotten trapped against one of the monoliths, ragged and worn from the chase, thinking she was done for. Then salvation had dropped from the sky with a set of talons.
Salvation named Audubon, who was apparently Breaze's older half-brother.
"And," Dennal (Breaze's teacher) clacked, helping Wadi in her narrative. "This ain't th' first incident. Si'not common fer us ta schrap human fellers, but we 'ave 'ad times when our own fellers have bin surprised by them Bristlebeasts an' we had to instigate a plop'n'drop rescue."
" 'Schrap?'" Ulraj questioned, skeptical of such a word. Weird air-creatures.
Breaze rolled his eyes and sighed. " 'Tis an olden word fer when one plucks up sumthin' that ain't prey."
"So ya see," Dennal cut back in, "this isn't th' first of our problems. We've been enemies of the Bristlepack fer a long time - prob'ly since that o' Soari. It's jus' that they've gotten more cunning in the last suncircle."
The name Soari brought forth a strange sense of familiarity in Zak, but it was the word 'suncircle' that struck a chord deep inside.
'Find me before Earth finishes its Sun-cycle.'
Who had. . . ?
'Find me Kur!'
He shook his head slightly, and blinked as though I'm a daze. His mouth worked without him fully thinking. "Who's Soari?" He asked.
Fefven sat regally, like some powerful cat, and nodded to his youngest son once. Breaze turned his narrow gaze to Zak, his voice chipped and tinged with a growl. Not that Zak took offense - Breaze just seemed to have a permanent irritation about him, as though he had some resentment or problem always boiling under his feathers.
"Soari is our ancestress - we don't know much about her, accept that she's from the time of the great ancients. She was called The Messenger. There were a few, like her, who served the great draginn, Rukka ((Rue-kah))." Zak almost gave a start at the name, though it was unnoticed as Breaze continued. "Although," he tilted his head in bird-like inquisition. "I think ya lot called 'im Kur."
Ulraj huffed at that and Doyle gave him a nudge. Zak grumbled, embarrassed, and Wadi breathed in his ear, "Rukka, huh?"
He didn't know if he liked or hated being Kur at times like these.
Getz flapped his wings to get their attention. He hadn't known what their little exchange had been about, and wasn't curious enough to inquire. He looked at Wadi as he spoke, though. "Aye, and didn't the lass say as much - that she knew one o' th' ancients? That some strong creature'd help?"
"Help how?" Doyle asked, his arms crossed, and Zak tried not to glare at Wadi. He was always willing to help, but she should ask him first before telling anyone and everyone that he'd help.
Getz shrugged, the gesture exaggerated by his wings. "Why help us ta warn the Bristlepack off once an' fer all."
As they were talking, Zak asked Wadi quietly, "What all did you tell them?"
She kept her eyes on Doyle and Getz as she responded with a breathy whisper. "Just that I have some friends who were on their way to rescue me, and that they're really strong. Nothing else - I knew you'd want to tell them. It was the malay owl that said something about a 'strong creature'."
Zak smiled, the little bit of irritation he felt gone. "Thanks." She turned, returning his smile with one of her own.
"Not to interrupt you two "love birds", but shouldn't we ask about the Hassi chieftain's friend?"
Zak sputtered and Wadi protested, until Ulraj held up a finned hand to stop them. It was hard to disobey a king, after all.
Zak let it slide, noting that Ulraj had seemed a little … jealous?
He heard Doyle say his name, and quickly went to join him, his friends by his side. They huddled in a small group, talking in hushed tones.
"So, what do you think, minimam? It's your call."
Zak saw the malay owl conversing with Fefven out of the corner of his eye. He had already come to a decision, but had been waiting to see what Doyle would say. He was his uncle, after all, and he respected him. Rather than answer though, he turned to survey the Curr-airre. He saw the others they'd been introduced to: a female northern hawk owl with rich brown eyes, named Snegg (apparently Getz' adoptive mother); Mehza, a long-eared owl with orange eyes (Snegg's daughter); and of course the malay owl, whose name was actually Malay. He was the Grifft - or elder - of the Curr-airre, with eyes black as night seemed. They had yet to meet Audubon - Fefven's eldest son - but Zak had no doubt that they'd meet him soon.
"What do you know of Kur?" He asked those of the Court before them.
Fefven and Dennal exchanged looks, but it was Malay who ventured forth to speak. His eyes gleamed like twin orbs of oil, and Zak thought he saw a sheen of blue and purple gleam within them, but no one else seemed to notice.
Except Breaze, who looked at him. As if to say, did you see?
Yes.
"Rukka - or as many call him, Kur - was a dragon at the beginning of our days," Malay began, with a voice clear and cool as frost, and almost no trace of his fellows' accent. "He was beyond that of a king, but not close to being a deity either. He had the power to control certain creatures, like ourselves - but only to an extent. He was mortal like all Kytt'ds, or 'Cryptids', as you say, but hardier than the rest. It's told that…" He stopped suddenly, swiveling his head to look Zak straight in the eyes. Other Curr-airre leaned forward to hear what knowledge their Grift would dispel.
Zak felt his heart pound throughout his whole body.
"They say," he churred softly. "They say that Kur escaped death; living as the mist of a memory. That he found the way to start afresh as himself, yet as a new self. Didn't he, Zak?"
Zak grinned suddenly, a grin full of teeth and eager secrets. "What do you think, Grifft?"
"I think," he churred again, then louder. "I think that some of us go by too many names, Kur."
All the Curr-airre present turned their heads towards Zak, perking their ear-tufts and staring with wide, owl-like eyes (literally in some cases).
"Ye're kidding," Breaze trilled.
Zak shrugged, his bravado gone, and suddenly self-conscious in the most human-feeling way. "Technically yes; I am Kur. I'm also human. Sort of," he winced when he said that. "But yes, I was born with the soul of Kur. I prefer to be called Zak though."
He felt a hand drop into his shoulder, and glanced back to see Doyle smiling reassuringly at him. He smiled back.
"We'll strip me o' ma feathers an' call me Keq, that's what'chya meant." Breaze stomped a paw for emphasis.
His father lifted a wing to stunt any other comments. "Regardless," Fefven said, "we need some help - that is, if ye're willin' ta give it Ru- Zak."
Zak looked at his friends. Ulraj gave an affirmative nod and Wadi smiled, mouthing 'yes'. He then looked at Doyle, taking a step back to give his uncle the floor.
"Alright," the redhead said, clapping his hands together sharply. "Here's the deal; we'll help you with your problem, if you help us with a small one of ours. Deal?" He held out a hand.
Zak winced, Wadi's eyes widened, and Ulraj visibly cringed.
All three teens mentally face palmed.
Fefven half-flared his wings, then settled them behind his back. He took a step forward, looking down his beak menacingly, but Doyle didn't so much as flinch.
(Though, he did think, regretfully, why did I offer a handshake?)
Fefven lifted a paw, gently settling it against Doyle's hand. It was bigger by a great deal; even Doc's hand would be a tad smaller. The great Emprire was careful not to knock Doyle's hand.
"Deal," he clacked.
Zak and co. let out soft sighs of relief. The Curr-airre had been kind thus far, but they were obviously a warrior race, so one never knew.
"Now," he churred. "What was it ye were needin' help whit?"
Ulraj promptly elbowed Zak in the ribs, eliciting an 'oof' from the Saturday boy. He glared at him, flashing his teeth with a growl, and rubbing at what felt like a fast-growing bruise (though he'd find that there was none, later).
Ignoring the boys' antics, Wadi took hold of answering. "A friend of my father's was stationed here a while ago. We lost contact, perhaps two weeks ago? So my father asked Doyle and I to go check on him. Please," she asked imploringly, spreading her arms, "have you seen any other humans around here, similarly dressed as I am?"
A few of the younger (called Cu'ai'res ((Kw-airs)) ) looked at one another.
"Lads," Dennal growled. "Ye'd best tell me waht ya know . . ."
"Sir," Getz gulped nervously. "Ih think ye'll need ta speak whit Audubon about that."
LINE BREAK LINE BREAK LINE BREAK
Audubon, older brother to the prince, was an impressive sight.
His plumage was a startling black and white, and he seemed to take after the hawk eagle of the same colors. He was massive - about the same size as his father, which made Zak suspect that he'd grow even bigger than Fefven - with ginormous, well-preened wings. Breaze didn't seem too comfortable with him around, but Zak decided to push the thought away for now in favor of introducing himself to Wadi's Savior.
Wadi's Savior.
Zak was equal parts thankful, and then not. It didn't settle well in his stomach.
He decided to push that thought aside too.
Introductions went well, with Audubon stooping his head respectfully to Kur, and Kur thanking him in turn but asking that he not do anything like bowing, and that he call him Zak. They then got to the matter at hand.
"So," he clicked. "Ye want ta take 'em out to the ol' hut?"
Kanren bumped her shoulder to his; Zak almost chuckled when Audubon stumbled in surprise.
"Ah no. Well, yer father does want us ta take 'em, but it 'twas actually yer brother's idea."
He looked at Breaze, warmth in his eyes. "That was kind of ya, Breaze. Shall we get underway then?"
Breaze shrugged, refusing to meet his brother's blaring, orange eyes.
Audubon just nodded. "Right then. Let's 'ave the luverly Kumari Prince whit Getz, Ku- er, Zak, whit you Breaze, the lass whit me, and firehair -"
"Firehair will go with himself," Doyle interjected, activating his jet pack for emphasis.
"Ih'll have ya on my back this time," Breaze told Zak, as the latter made his way over to him. Zak nodded, and prepared to hoist himself onto Breaze's back, but then he heard Wadi's voice. He turned and saw Wadi clamber onto Audubon's back, laughing and chatting about what one would presume to be the flight they were about to take. Zak tried to hold back a low growl of irritation.
Breaze must have heard him, because he flicked his ear tuft. He chuffed softly, "She yer mate or somethin'?"
"What?" He almost squealed. He kept his voice low as he spoke, and continued to climb onto Breaze's back. "No - no she's not. We're … Friends. As far as I know."
". . . But she might mean somethin' more to you?" His voice, for once, wasn't irritated, nor was it smug. Just full of honest curiosity.
"I… don't really know," he said, as they took off. He felt the wind begin to rush along them as Breaze pumped his wings, hopping off the cliff and flapping harder to gain height. When they got high enough they began to stride forward, dipping low then back up at times.
He saw Getz attempt a half-turn, Ulraj yelling furiously that he had not agreed to such an absurd idea; Doyle petered by on his jet pack, looking glad he hadn't taken a ride on any of the Curr-airre; and Wadi was laughing in sheer glee, whooping and hollering. Zak felt his heart swell, glad to see them having fun. He and Breaze were enjoying a quiet flight.
They let the silence stretch (it was hard to speak with wind shrieking past you, anyways) and Zak just let his thoughts wander. He discerned that what he had felt wasn't jealousy, exactly (as experience - especially those including Ulraj's advances towards Wadi - had taught him.) Rather, he had felt … Unsettled? But why? The more he thought about it, the more it dawned on him that it wasn't that he felt Audubon was some sort of competition (obviously) but that it was her being near such a predatorial cryptid.
(Like he had once been.)
(Like he was.)
In short, he felt protective of her.
It probably (it was) tied in to his being Kur. Even though he, Zak, had never met the Curr-airre, some part of him took stride to a familiarity with such creatures. They, like Kur once was (like he is), are strong predators. Hunters.
It turned his mind back to the flight, his current, unexplainable thrill, and he fell into older thinking, wanting to stretch his own wings that were of no-longer, tearing through the sky, flying towards soon-to-be-ash -
He cut off the originally nice thought before it got any darker, trying to muddle through his confused mind that was filled with the current predicament, feelings for Wadi, and old urges that darkened and made his mind a murky place.
Being a teenaged half-human was hard.
Well over a half hour later, they finally began to approach their destination. The winds had begun to pick up, buffeting about playfully as the prepared to land.
"We're gonna land down here, Zak. Okay?"
Zak gave his consent.
They landed, dropping out of the sky like a thunderbolt. Zak gripped Breaze's feathers tight as they went down, the red-tail folding his wings behind him and landing with his forepaws touching down first, just like a cat hopping from a bookshelf to the floor.
They dismounted, Breaze literally snapping in irritation at Zak, Ulraj scrambling away from Getz, and Wadi laughing as she dismounted with ease. Doyle came down slowly, landing beside Kanren, watching in confusion.
Once they'd properly assembled together, the kurling's stomach began to knot up tighter. He'd been feeling uneasy the whole trip there, and not just because of Wadi. And now that they'd landed, that unease blossomed into foreboding.
"Zak?" He blinked out of his thoughts. "Let's go," Wadi said, giving him a nudge. He nodded, Ulraj falling beside them, and Doyle right behind him. The curr-airre waited a respectful distance away.
They went over to the shack - a ramshackle hut with a window and a door. They had all expected Wadi to open the door, but she looked to Zak, holding his gaze a moment, then drawing a step back. She gave him a nod.
With growing anxiousness, he put his hand on the door lever -
(Something's not right, what's going on, shouldn't,don'tdon'tdon't-)
-and pulled down, then out, opening the door with a drawn-out creak. They peeked inside.
It was empty.
No one entered beyond the door frame. There was no need; it was too small an abode for anyone to hide, lest it be under the covers, and there were no other rooms. The only bathroom had been a deep hole in the ground, a good distance from the shack. There was just no one home; nor had there been for awhile, it appeared.
"Where's Achim?" Wadi asked in a small voice.
"I'm sorry." Zak said blankly.
"What do you mean?" Ulraj asked, turning to him in confusion.
There was a crunch as Breaze stepped forward over the gritty dirt. Zak turned to look at him. "You knew?" He churred.
Zak shrugged, a sad, half smile on his face. "It wasn't that hard to figure out. Bristles?"
Audubon answered. "Yes. He was torn apart maybe two or three miles from here. Jus' bone an' bloody clothes. We were hoping he wasn't who you were lookin' fer, but…" He lowered his head with a sigh, wings drooping. "We're jus' sorry we weren't there."
Zak felt Wadi grip his arm tightly, and he tried not to grimace. "It's not your fault. I don't…I don't know what I'll tell my father. Certainly not that it was your fault. Achim was always a risk taker for his research."
He heard her voice quaver. He extracted her arm gently, changing to grasp her hand instead. He sensed rather than saw Ulraj put a hand on her shoulder, and felt Doyle stand close to them. Good. She needed all the comfort she could get.
"Let's head back for now." Doyle suggested, breaking the moment of melancholy. There's… nothing else we can do here."
There was nothing else to say on the matter, so they left, with the door closed shut behind them and nothing left, except footprints already being erased by the growing breeze.
LINE BREAK LINE BREAK LINE BREAK
The airship was hunkered down in night mode; the hallways still lit but dim. Fiskerton had come to check on Abby (as he was instructed to do every three hours). The only problem was, she was gone.
He had ambled over, with a vase of flowers and a small toy bird (old habits died hard) only to find that the door hadn't been latched properly, and her bed was an empty mess of crumpled sheets. He promptly left his gifts, and began to search for her.
A few tense minutes later, and Fiskerton found her. She was speaking on a communicator of some sort and had yet to see him. He hid quickly, thanking the ancients for his instincts.
His ears twitched as he caught bits of the conversation.
" . . . anyways I haven't bungled the mission as you can see. … Har har har very funny. … Yes, yes, I get that, but it's not like I'm in a bad position A- sorry sir, … Yes I get it, no names. … You want me to call you what? Fine, Neil. Look, I'll get what you want so I can get what I want, got it? Now I've gotta hang up and get back to the med bay. Hmm? … Yes, I'll keep you posted. … Au revoir."
She snapped the case shut, gritting her teeth. "Jerk," she muttered savagely.
Fiskerton turned and absconded quickly; he had to get those gifts out of there. Then later he'd return, when he knew he wouldn't act all suspicious. As he left, he tried to figure out what she'd been discussing.
Because, what mission could she have? Who was her employer? Why had he or she thought Abby had messed up her mission?
After getting out of the room with the gifts, and a good distance away, he slumped against the wall, sliding down and exhaling exhaustedly.
"Zahk," he mumbled mournfully. "Bre baak sroon."
To Be Continued In Ascent Part 3...