Hello,
Hope you enjoy, R&R please, thank you.
Crane stepped slowly over the bowl of dumplings with one of his spindly, stick legs and took a deep breath in.
He let it out slowly, allowing it to ruffle through his cream and dark coloured feathers, his eyes shut tightly as he thought.
He'd been thinking continually ever since the bowl had been placed in his prison many hours ago, though had come to no complete conclusion.
If he wanted to poison us, he could have just done it with us all in the same room.
A side of his brain argued, and with a satisfactory amount of fact ingrained in it to.
Why were we split up and then given the poison? it doesn't make sense. That is if it was poison baked into those dumplings.
He clicked his beak and stepped over the bowl again, scrutinising it closely.
He said he wanted to test us. Individually.
He picked up one of the dumplings and held it tightly in his talon, mangled after years of endless battles.
Test us. Emotionally and physically. Not kill us, test us. Testing means there is always a chance, no matter how small, of success. The question was; what test was it?
Crane threw the dumpling to his other talon, catching it expertly, and pulled of a piece.
The test could be how long we could go without food, resisting temptation, though that could be done among others. It was most likely a sleep drought, but why?
This was the question he couldn't answer, no matter how long he puzzled over it. The question that had kept him from taking a bite of the dumpling every time he felt his stomach ache in hunger, going over the same debate in his mind.
Why would he put sleeping drought in a dumpling he would then force us to eat? We would be asleep; he couldn't test us then.
Exhaling a long sigh from his lungs, he took the piece of dumpling in his beak and swallowed it down.
The one comforting thought consoling him as he swallowed down the dumpling piece in a slimy gulp, was the logic in his brain telling him it would only be a dream, he would panic and he would wake up just fine. Just like the nightmares he had as a kid.
His eyes felt crusty as breadcrumbs as he peeled them open, it was as if he'd just configured conjunctivitis, though he couldn't remember asking Viper to borrow her mascara at any time.
He found himself standing wobbly on his own two feet, in a large, bright room. Ahead of him was the distinctive figure of his mother, lying on a plain bamboo bedstead.
Although she looked relatively younger than when he'd just met her at the palace, her face still bore signs of fatigue, with dark circles under her eyes.
She looked extremely tired; however, her amber eyes were piercing his with a deep stare, love oozing out of them like golden honey.
Standing up beside her bedstead was his father.
Crane couldn't remember when he last saw his father, but the image clocked into his brain at once, like he always knew it was there.
The bird was tall and spindly, like him, with kind green eyes, wearing his own inherited golden rice hat.
Crane immediately stepped eagerly towards the pair but at once dropped to the polished wooden floor, still being too young for his stick legs to properly hold his opposing larger figure up.
His father let out a chiming laugh and stepped forward to help him up onto his back, and as he did Crane was able to view the valley from the high, wood-beamed window.
It was spectacular, the way the valleys, mountains and rivers weaved into each other, creating a patchwork of colour and the far-off view of the neighbouring village. Allowing himself to calm with the thought of being among others if there was a problem, but also have the exhilarating freedom of being alone on the mountain top.
Crane also realised this was his house. His first house, the one where he lived for many years of his life, until the tragedy struck and he was forced to move to the village with his mother.
It all felt very alien now. Being in the place what once was home.
He glanced back to look at the living room. It was decorated lavishly in coloured portraits of the mountains, vases of flowers and baskets of picked peaches.
In one corner there was a huge easel, itself and the enormous collection of reference pages wafting around it, all splattered in paint, brushes strewed along the floor.
He remembered it now. Everything.
At once the room disappeared into reeling colour, leaving him staring blankly at the spot where his father's easel had been standing.
Everything came to a sudden stop and he blinked furiously as he allowed his eyes to become accustomed to his surroundings.
He was now standing outside his house, beside the wood-panelled front door, his calligraphy things tucked messily under his wing, as he knocked on the immaculate polished glass.
It opened easily at his invitation and he stepped inside, kicking off his abnormally tall, childishly purple wellies, and trotting carefully into the kitchen.
At once his happy demur thickened in worry as he noticed his mother sitting at the kitchen table. An open scroll lying in front of her, her head bent low over the table so he couldn't see her welling eyes.
He deposited his mess of art supplies on the table and stepped delicately over towards her.
"Mummy are you alright? Mum?" his voice wavered in worry as he heard a badly disguised sniffle escape his mother's slumped figure, and felt his wing be grasped in hers.
"Read…. read the scroll." she sniffed.
Slowly, he picked up the scroll in his talon and began to read.
At this age he still wasn't old enough to understand every aspect of the Chinese language, but he knew basic sounds and characters. He knew enough to understand what happened.
His mother gulped and tried again to explain. "Susu darling, you're father-"
"I…I know Mum." The younger Crane responded quietly, allowing the tears to well up in his own eyes.
Crane felt his own eyes water as he watched the scene of his past explode before him, whispering into scenes of the days after his dad's death. Some of the darkest days in his life.
When he and his mother just moved sadly around the house, not talking to each other, not doing anything together, just sitting in cold, grim silence.
How everything in their house had fallen into disrepair. How his dad's easel choked in dust and soon became so grey it collapsed in a puff. How the paintings his father had spent so long doing, soon vanished under layers of grime and filth, the glass becoming to contaminated to even see what was underneath.
He remembered the day his mother came up to his room, his father's golden rice hat in her wing, and placed it on in the night so when he woke up it was balancing on his head. It seemed she just couldn't give it to him personally.
He remembered sitting in the cold, bareness of his new room, Mei-Ling sitting quietly beside him, wiping his tears away and whispering words of comfort.
The days of his past filtered by, until they came to a sudden stop and he found himself standing in one of the rooms in the Lee Da kung fu academy.
It was late at night and his muscles ached as he continued to tiredly sweep the dusty floor.
"You know you're actually pretty cool." A voice suddenly spoke from behind him and he jumped in fright and dropped the broom.
"Mei-Ling!" Crane whined. "Don't jump out at me like that!"
"Sorry," she giggled happily and placed her paws on her waist. "Crane, you're amazing!"
"Who? me?" he blinked in confusion and glanced around.
"Yeah you, you dufus." She chuckled light-heartedly. "You should try out for the school."
"What? No!" he exclaimed at once. "That's craziness talking." He chuckled softly and shook his head, repeating the word. "No, no, no."
"Well," she sighed and turned around. "You'll never know unless you try."
And then she clocked him childishly on the head with the broom, her excuse being he needed practice.
"Pathetic." The grey bull sighed. "Not one of you can do this?"
"Wait!" Mei-Ling held up her paw at once and pointed it at Crane. "There is one."
Crane blinked at her. "Oh err, hey everybody."
"Crane?" the bull stared at him in outrage, Crane thought he was about to punch him, and then he started shaking and shaking, and shaking with laughter. "With those skinny legs!" he gasped through his mirth.
"Oh, oh yeah." Crane failed miserably at his façade of surprise. "My skinny legs, first time that's ever been mentioned actually." He trailed off feebly and crossed his wings over his body, trying to ignore the raucous laughter from the other contenders and their blatantly pointing fingers.
"Crane," the bull began after finally ceasing his laughter and throwing a broom to him. "Since you're here, why don't you get started cleaning."
Crane knew this wasn't a question he wasn't supposed to answer and sadly lowered his broom to the floor, sweeping sadly.
A figure appeared in front of him and he glanced up to be face to face with a grief-stricken looking Mei-Ling.
"I'm so sorry." She whispered.
Sorry for what? Embarrassing him in front of everyone or crushing his father's dream of making Crane the first Crane kung fu master?
"Oh don't worry about it. It's totally fine." He answered, trying not to allow the tears welling in his eyes to spill open.
"Crane, get going. There are teeth everywhere!" The bull shouted from somewhere off.
"Yeah, its…. its fine." He picked up the broom and began sweeping his way over to the scattered teeth. "Totally fine." He told himself. "If one word came to mind, it would be fine. Totally fine."
At once he heard a sudden collective gasp and swivelled around to find himself face to face with one of the huge, metal spikes.
He was inside the obstacle course.
Two spikes came hurtling towards him at once and he instinctively threw the broom out in front of him like a bo staff, blocking their inevitable pain.
"Crane stop! Now, step out slowly!" The bull instructed; fear enriched into his voice.
Crane nodded and twisted around to look for an exit but as he did, he found his eyes fall on to the garnet red flag situated in the centre of the maze of obstacles.
He could do this. He could, he could do it.
I can do it. Be confident, just like dad said.
As soon as he stepped towards the wooden spikes however, broom armed in front of him to fight, the scene dissolved at once and he jolted upwards, breathing heavily.
Just a dream.
He told himself.
Just a dream.
Hello!
I really hope you enjoyed this chapter; it's been really bugging me to write but I've had a heap going on.
I can't promise chapters will be regular, but I can say I haven't given up on Fanfiction just yet, I forgot how truly happy it makes me to write about these characters!
Ok, see you again soon!
xx