uFourth Step/u
Any travelling caravaan knew to pick up the curiousities encountered along the way. No exception befell the Striped Ones which threaded through the pine forests at nightfall. Their crisscrossed pelts mimiced the moonlight through the trees as they moved in packs, covering the ground like a ghost army. Rumors always surrounded the Striped Ones, rumors to which there may have at one time been some truth. Nobody truely know from what or whom they had decended, for unlike the other species of the earth they could be traced back to no less evolved living creature. They were gypsies, creatures spoken of in hushes and used to threaten children. iKeep out of trouble, or the Striped Ones will come and take you away./i
In reality, the only creature which the Striped Ones were considering taking away lay sprawled and broken on a mat of pine needles on the forest floor, wings spread flatly apart as though crucified. In an oblong ring, the Striped Ones encircled the fallen body and sidestepped around it, examining from a distance. The bunched and loaded packs across their backs clattered against one another as the creatures touched shoulders in passing. Their language was an almost incomprehensable series of clicks and growls, words coming awkwardly through their extended muzzles. Reflective slit eyes, large and saucerlike, reacted in dialation to the Bird's glowing plumage. Through the tightly knit ring of adults, smaller Striped Ones darted towards the body and began to pull at the sunlit plumage, trying to win a feather for themselves. Stepping away and huddling, the adults showed little concern for their offspring. They were more mentally occupied with what to do with this new being. The rise and fall of its chest, though shallow, was plain. Unfortunately, so were the deep gashes and tears covering its body. Unless properly treated, the Bird would probobly die of either infection or starvation in a few days. Also there was no garuntee it would actually wake up.
On the other hand, the shrewd beings were far from blind. The Bird's lithe body and nimble build would be attractive to any one of the other races. Even the stupidest creature could learn to serve. Besides, from the way the young blonde was torn to peices, he didn't have much of a fighting spirit in him anyway. Between the counting of claws and snapping of sharp toothed muzzles, the elder Striped Ones decided to bring the Bird along with them. Four Striped Ones returned to their camp to fetch one of the bamboo pens used for carrying livestock during travel. It would be small for the Bird, but they weren't interested in his comfort anyway. Only the profit he could bring.
The Bird awoke when they tried to lift him from the ground and force his hindclaws into the cage. For a moment his eyes fluttered half-open and he fought off the urge to drop back into unconciousness, however comforting. The rocking of treetops above him and clattering voices nearby slowly dragged him out of the comatose state though. Stunned, then shocked, the young bird flared his wings outward amidst screams and yowls and was dropped suddenly against the ground. The impact rattled through his body, one that he was almost certain should have been broken and dead by now. For a moment he thought he might be knocked out again, but the darkness and disorientation passed and the Bird was left half-propped up on the crook of one wing, staring out at a ring of sloped faces belonging to those called the Striped Ones.
For a moment, the ring of huge gleaming eyes seemed detered that their prize had regained conciousness and looked near the desicion of retreating. Their double-jointed legs folded up tightly, a ring of unidentified creatures watching for the first sign of hostility to sprint away. The cage designated for the Bird lay abandoned a few feet away from the sun-coloured creature.
Shakey, weak from fighting and injury, the Bird curled his footclaws under his legs and stood, using the tips of his risiliant primary feathers to help himself upwards. Spattered with dirt and blood, their normal glint was washed to a dull wax-white. Bangs falling into his eyes as he stood, the Bird tried to take a step towards the Striped Ones on wobbly feet and fell to one knee, his thin sides shaking as he forced words between the labored breathing. "Tell me...Who you are..."
Collective grins washed over the Striped Ones as they glanced to one another, bidactyl hands rubbing together expectantly. The soft and slightly high pitched tone of the Bird's voice would be another selling point. Not willing to let their quarry ask more gibbering questions, the pack closed in tighter least the injured Bird try to fly.
"What's happening, who are you..." The Bird's tone arched into the darker more frantic regions as the Striped Ones moved closer, hands outstretched. Like a sideways jab of lightning, realization struck the blonde. The Striped Ones didn't understand a word of the common tongue.
Gibbering as they dove in upon the Bird, the Striped Ones folded his thin limbs awkwardly against the feathered creature's body and forced him into the tight cage, slamming the gate and clacking it shut with a crude lock. Doubled over painfully, the blonde could hardly breath in the position the cage forced him into. It felt as if his ribs were digging into his own lungs, and his wings were forced forward at a painfull angel, their tips extending around the edge of the cage like a dirty orange-white skirt. As the Striped Ones stepped away and gripped the bars of the cage, lifting it upwards, the young Bird felt a choked lump trying to force itself upwards in his throat and a dull ache inside his temples.
iI should have died,/i he inwardly hissed, having nothing else in the cramped cage to keep him company but his own self pity. iAt least then I wouldn't be the prisoner of monsters.../i
****
"Zack, are you paying any attention at all?"
"Not one iota. Please keep going."
The heavyset Hedgehog standing against the dug out walls grunted deep in his chest and shook his head, digging claws clasped at his back. He was quite convinced by this time that the young apprentices he'd taken were doing their best to turn his spikes grey at the roots. They were completely shameless in anything they did, which included completely ignoring what was being told to them. He'd been slightly hopeful today that maybe they'd pay attention, at least it had started out that way. The taller dark-spiked hedgehog, Zack, had been staring dreamily towards the ceilings of the tunnels ever since the start though. Oh well, dreams would persist. The aging Hedgehog cleared his throat and glared over his glasses, growling between words. "Well I would isuggest/i, Zachery Knightblade, that you would extend at the very least pretended interest."
A grin crept lopsided onto Zack's face, crinkling the scar on his left cheek. Pulling his gaze away from the ceiling, he swept his long bangs from his eyes with one large digging claw and spoke. "I thought the point of this lecture was to see the truth inside things?"
Fighting off the intense urge to knock Zack's head against several of the walls and shake sense into him, the elder Hedgehog sighed and rubbed at the bridge of his nose, under his glasses. "If you were paying attention in the first place, please give a quick synopsis of what we've just gone over." His tone was tried and monotone. iEvery day with the constant harassment.../i
Waving his claws dismissively, the dark haired youth never faultered in his grin. "Not a problem. You're trying to teach us that we can be doctors to a soul the same way people are doctors to a body. Just like a doctor can walk into a room and tell by the scent if a patient is sick or not, we're meant to be able to tell through touch if a soul's under fire. We do that with the Materia."
"So called because of what property, if you're so intelligent?"
Eyes rolled heavenward again as Zack muttered from the side of his mouth. "So called because not one lecture about them matters..."
"Zack!"
"Yes?" Snapping to abrupt attention, there was no hiding the apprehension in his voice. He'd crossed a line and he knew it.
The massive balled fist of the greying Hedgehog slammed against a wall with enough force to shower dirt down on their heads. "Materia is so called because it is the Mother of us all, the matron of life itself! The power inside a single stone could keep a city running for years, if you want to expend a life to do it. We are the only people who iknows/i this which is why we must ieducate ourselves/i and Inever/i allow another species access to the Materia stones!"
"Bite my head off while you're at it, I know all that!"
The retort bounced off the elder's grey spiked back as if it had never been flung, his attention diverted elsewhere. With a cryptic expression, the elder ran his claws along the wall, following with the tips of the digging claws embedded into the dirt. Walking down the corridors, he hardly noticed that his student's claws were also following the unseen trail in the earth. In a flickering annex of tunnels, the elder stopped and gazed upwards, his eyes squinted even behind spectecles. Zack stood behind, claws sunk deep in the dirt.
"What do you make of it," the elder's voice growled in the low lighting, his gaze never disengaging from unseen sights in the above world. "Zack?"
"Stone Throwers," the dark haired youth replied grimly, eyes drifting away from the dirt ceiling.
The elder hedgehog was given no chance at reply, for by the time he had turned away, his student was gone from view. The nearest exit from Hedgehog tunnels was half a mile away, but even above ground any Hedgehog could follow a distressed life force. The question wasn't finding the source of it. The question was instead the safety in doing so.
****
Hours later, the trail in the dirt was still fresh. Even if it hadn't been, the party which was on the move took no special care to hide the faint trail of white feathers they were leaving behind. Middle claw digging into the dirt with each racing footstep, the dark haired Hedgehog sprinted through the forest and around trees, ducking under obstructions or scrambling over them as the need arose. Although the party he was following had a head start, he had the advantage of speed and of course the fact that he wouldn't loose their trail overnight.
In the long shadows of evening, a rattling like broken branches drew the young Hedgehog's attention. The closer he crept towards the source of the noise, the more pronounced a yellow-red glow made itself against the pale undersides of leaves. Backing up to one of the pines, Zack fought to keep his spikes flat against his back. If they shot outwards now, the sound of tearing fabric might give him away. Not to mention he might find himself pinned against a tree by his own body. Breathing sharply, he made about face and plucked his hindclaws from the loamy earth, standing disconnected from the underground. A glance around the edge of the treetrunk reflected firelight in his steely blue eyes, firelight he wanted to inspect from a safer angle.
Hedgehog claws were not designed to climb, but even so Zack made good use of the sharp tips as he shimmied up the rough bark of the tree, ignoring the dribbles of sap that stuck hair to his face, cloths to his body and his body to the tree. Falling pine needles stuck against his skin and itched, making him miserable but there was nothing that could be done. Until a branch that was thick enough to support his weight could be found, the Hedgehog would have to put up with the discomfort.
Halfway up the treetrunk, branches finally began to thicken and taper at the right angle. Wrapping his legs around one and sinking his claws into the bark, Zack slid out onto his stomach on the treebranch, gazing down towards the firelight.
Shadowy sillouettes jumped against his eyes, outlined in the fire. Double jointed and bent over like something long extinct but furred, earless and tailless. Stone Throwers, creatures which would cast around the lives of others as if they didn't matter at all. The Striped Ones, in this case. Stone Throwers, however, could be of any race. Dragons and Angels seemed especially fond of shattering the shimmering Materia that soldified deep in the earth. Narrowing his eyes and taking stock of the campsite, Zack tried to trace down the owner of the feathers. It was hard to tell from a distance, but a splotch of dusky white at the far end of camp...That could be it, that icould/i be it...
Sitting up on the treebranch, Zack swung his legs around and prepared to work his way back down the trunk...before coming nose to sloped-snout with one of the giant eyed shadowy Stone Throwers who had been sitting silently behind him, awaiting attention. The Hedgehog gave a shout and the spikes at his back instinctively flared, shredding a hole through the fabric of his shirt. Zack considered jumping, but hardly had time before a black spider-web knit net landed around his shoulders and ensnared his spikes, trapping him in its nigh unseen confines.
"Well," the dark-haired Hedgehog muttered to himself as the Striped Ones lowered the net carefully from the branches above, signaling to one another as another cramped-looking cage was being assembled on the ground below. "This sure as hell wasn't what I meant to do."
The only way Zack had been able to fit into the little cage, which was meant more for carrying small animals like pigs or dogs than humanoids, was to curl into a fetal position. Even so, his spikes still stood out and rattled against the bamboo bars, and his head jolted harshly against the roof-bars of the pen whenever it was lifted or dropped without warning. Although the Striped Ones took a while in their march back to camp, Zack soon found his own prison deposited next to that of the white-feathered creature he'd been following. The light build of the creature and soft features forced the Hedgehog to do a double-take at the blonde, the flickering firelight not helping in shadowy distortions. "Oh, whoa," he muttered, somewhat dumbfounded when the thought finally worked its way through. "You're a boy."
Wings which were obviously stretched at angles unnatural to their build ruffled a little as the blonde lifted his head and glanced out of one eye at the Hedgehog. When he spoke, his voice was dark but somewhat broken. Forced cynicism, probobly one of the better coping mechanisms for the pain he must be in, Zack decided. "What are you, some sort of deformed Angel?"
Zack snorted and tried to rear back, but knocked his head against the roof of the cage again. "Maybe I should be asking you that, Feathery. See these claws? These spikes? I'm a Hedgehog, man. Never had wings and wouldn't know what to do with them if I got 'em."
Shadows flickering on his face, the feathered creature regarded Zack once more and lowered his chin to his knees. "Oh," He muttered, shoulders stretching in what little way they could. "I've heard about your kind. Magicians and hypnotists."
"No, now you're confusing us with Felines. What're you, anyway? You look like the deformed Angel to me."
"I'm a Bird," the blonde's reply was concise. "But I don't belong to a clan or nest any more. I'm nameless and rejected."
"Bird, huh? Family's important to you guys, isn't it? What'd you do to be kicked out?" Zack shifted in his pen and tried to find any position that was more comfortable than his current to sit in. It didn't work. "I'm Zack, by the way. Knightblade."
The nameless Bird sighed and rubbed his cheek against the torn fabric that covered his knees. "I was supposed to be knocked from the sky because I didn't like giant hanging chest-decorations, giggly dispositions and catty attitudes."
"Ohh, so since you don't want to fuck girls they decided to kill you." Zack fell silent a moment, musing, before speaking again. "Well that's probobly one of the stupider things I've heard of."
The blonde Bird snorted and grinned ever so slightly through the bars of his cage at the Hedgehog. "You're blunt."
"So I've been told. So...Nameless..." Zack kicked at the bars of his pen with his hindclaws, watching the springy bamboo creak and return to its previous shape.
Cocking his head slightly, the Bird regarded him as another fall of bangs covered one eye. "Hmm?"
"When do they feed us around here?"
Any travelling caravaan knew to pick up the curiousities encountered along the way. No exception befell the Striped Ones which threaded through the pine forests at nightfall. Their crisscrossed pelts mimiced the moonlight through the trees as they moved in packs, covering the ground like a ghost army. Rumors always surrounded the Striped Ones, rumors to which there may have at one time been some truth. Nobody truely know from what or whom they had decended, for unlike the other species of the earth they could be traced back to no less evolved living creature. They were gypsies, creatures spoken of in hushes and used to threaten children. iKeep out of trouble, or the Striped Ones will come and take you away./i
In reality, the only creature which the Striped Ones were considering taking away lay sprawled and broken on a mat of pine needles on the forest floor, wings spread flatly apart as though crucified. In an oblong ring, the Striped Ones encircled the fallen body and sidestepped around it, examining from a distance. The bunched and loaded packs across their backs clattered against one another as the creatures touched shoulders in passing. Their language was an almost incomprehensable series of clicks and growls, words coming awkwardly through their extended muzzles. Reflective slit eyes, large and saucerlike, reacted in dialation to the Bird's glowing plumage. Through the tightly knit ring of adults, smaller Striped Ones darted towards the body and began to pull at the sunlit plumage, trying to win a feather for themselves. Stepping away and huddling, the adults showed little concern for their offspring. They were more mentally occupied with what to do with this new being. The rise and fall of its chest, though shallow, was plain. Unfortunately, so were the deep gashes and tears covering its body. Unless properly treated, the Bird would probobly die of either infection or starvation in a few days. Also there was no garuntee it would actually wake up.
On the other hand, the shrewd beings were far from blind. The Bird's lithe body and nimble build would be attractive to any one of the other races. Even the stupidest creature could learn to serve. Besides, from the way the young blonde was torn to peices, he didn't have much of a fighting spirit in him anyway. Between the counting of claws and snapping of sharp toothed muzzles, the elder Striped Ones decided to bring the Bird along with them. Four Striped Ones returned to their camp to fetch one of the bamboo pens used for carrying livestock during travel. It would be small for the Bird, but they weren't interested in his comfort anyway. Only the profit he could bring.
The Bird awoke when they tried to lift him from the ground and force his hindclaws into the cage. For a moment his eyes fluttered half-open and he fought off the urge to drop back into unconciousness, however comforting. The rocking of treetops above him and clattering voices nearby slowly dragged him out of the comatose state though. Stunned, then shocked, the young bird flared his wings outward amidst screams and yowls and was dropped suddenly against the ground. The impact rattled through his body, one that he was almost certain should have been broken and dead by now. For a moment he thought he might be knocked out again, but the darkness and disorientation passed and the Bird was left half-propped up on the crook of one wing, staring out at a ring of sloped faces belonging to those called the Striped Ones.
For a moment, the ring of huge gleaming eyes seemed detered that their prize had regained conciousness and looked near the desicion of retreating. Their double-jointed legs folded up tightly, a ring of unidentified creatures watching for the first sign of hostility to sprint away. The cage designated for the Bird lay abandoned a few feet away from the sun-coloured creature.
Shakey, weak from fighting and injury, the Bird curled his footclaws under his legs and stood, using the tips of his risiliant primary feathers to help himself upwards. Spattered with dirt and blood, their normal glint was washed to a dull wax-white. Bangs falling into his eyes as he stood, the Bird tried to take a step towards the Striped Ones on wobbly feet and fell to one knee, his thin sides shaking as he forced words between the labored breathing. "Tell me...Who you are..."
Collective grins washed over the Striped Ones as they glanced to one another, bidactyl hands rubbing together expectantly. The soft and slightly high pitched tone of the Bird's voice would be another selling point. Not willing to let their quarry ask more gibbering questions, the pack closed in tighter least the injured Bird try to fly.
"What's happening, who are you..." The Bird's tone arched into the darker more frantic regions as the Striped Ones moved closer, hands outstretched. Like a sideways jab of lightning, realization struck the blonde. The Striped Ones didn't understand a word of the common tongue.
Gibbering as they dove in upon the Bird, the Striped Ones folded his thin limbs awkwardly against the feathered creature's body and forced him into the tight cage, slamming the gate and clacking it shut with a crude lock. Doubled over painfully, the blonde could hardly breath in the position the cage forced him into. It felt as if his ribs were digging into his own lungs, and his wings were forced forward at a painfull angel, their tips extending around the edge of the cage like a dirty orange-white skirt. As the Striped Ones stepped away and gripped the bars of the cage, lifting it upwards, the young Bird felt a choked lump trying to force itself upwards in his throat and a dull ache inside his temples.
iI should have died,/i he inwardly hissed, having nothing else in the cramped cage to keep him company but his own self pity. iAt least then I wouldn't be the prisoner of monsters.../i
****
"Zack, are you paying any attention at all?"
"Not one iota. Please keep going."
The heavyset Hedgehog standing against the dug out walls grunted deep in his chest and shook his head, digging claws clasped at his back. He was quite convinced by this time that the young apprentices he'd taken were doing their best to turn his spikes grey at the roots. They were completely shameless in anything they did, which included completely ignoring what was being told to them. He'd been slightly hopeful today that maybe they'd pay attention, at least it had started out that way. The taller dark-spiked hedgehog, Zack, had been staring dreamily towards the ceilings of the tunnels ever since the start though. Oh well, dreams would persist. The aging Hedgehog cleared his throat and glared over his glasses, growling between words. "Well I would isuggest/i, Zachery Knightblade, that you would extend at the very least pretended interest."
A grin crept lopsided onto Zack's face, crinkling the scar on his left cheek. Pulling his gaze away from the ceiling, he swept his long bangs from his eyes with one large digging claw and spoke. "I thought the point of this lecture was to see the truth inside things?"
Fighting off the intense urge to knock Zack's head against several of the walls and shake sense into him, the elder Hedgehog sighed and rubbed at the bridge of his nose, under his glasses. "If you were paying attention in the first place, please give a quick synopsis of what we've just gone over." His tone was tried and monotone. iEvery day with the constant harassment.../i
Waving his claws dismissively, the dark haired youth never faultered in his grin. "Not a problem. You're trying to teach us that we can be doctors to a soul the same way people are doctors to a body. Just like a doctor can walk into a room and tell by the scent if a patient is sick or not, we're meant to be able to tell through touch if a soul's under fire. We do that with the Materia."
"So called because of what property, if you're so intelligent?"
Eyes rolled heavenward again as Zack muttered from the side of his mouth. "So called because not one lecture about them matters..."
"Zack!"
"Yes?" Snapping to abrupt attention, there was no hiding the apprehension in his voice. He'd crossed a line and he knew it.
The massive balled fist of the greying Hedgehog slammed against a wall with enough force to shower dirt down on their heads. "Materia is so called because it is the Mother of us all, the matron of life itself! The power inside a single stone could keep a city running for years, if you want to expend a life to do it. We are the only people who iknows/i this which is why we must ieducate ourselves/i and Inever/i allow another species access to the Materia stones!"
"Bite my head off while you're at it, I know all that!"
The retort bounced off the elder's grey spiked back as if it had never been flung, his attention diverted elsewhere. With a cryptic expression, the elder ran his claws along the wall, following with the tips of the digging claws embedded into the dirt. Walking down the corridors, he hardly noticed that his student's claws were also following the unseen trail in the earth. In a flickering annex of tunnels, the elder stopped and gazed upwards, his eyes squinted even behind spectecles. Zack stood behind, claws sunk deep in the dirt.
"What do you make of it," the elder's voice growled in the low lighting, his gaze never disengaging from unseen sights in the above world. "Zack?"
"Stone Throwers," the dark haired youth replied grimly, eyes drifting away from the dirt ceiling.
The elder hedgehog was given no chance at reply, for by the time he had turned away, his student was gone from view. The nearest exit from Hedgehog tunnels was half a mile away, but even above ground any Hedgehog could follow a distressed life force. The question wasn't finding the source of it. The question was instead the safety in doing so.
****
Hours later, the trail in the dirt was still fresh. Even if it hadn't been, the party which was on the move took no special care to hide the faint trail of white feathers they were leaving behind. Middle claw digging into the dirt with each racing footstep, the dark haired Hedgehog sprinted through the forest and around trees, ducking under obstructions or scrambling over them as the need arose. Although the party he was following had a head start, he had the advantage of speed and of course the fact that he wouldn't loose their trail overnight.
In the long shadows of evening, a rattling like broken branches drew the young Hedgehog's attention. The closer he crept towards the source of the noise, the more pronounced a yellow-red glow made itself against the pale undersides of leaves. Backing up to one of the pines, Zack fought to keep his spikes flat against his back. If they shot outwards now, the sound of tearing fabric might give him away. Not to mention he might find himself pinned against a tree by his own body. Breathing sharply, he made about face and plucked his hindclaws from the loamy earth, standing disconnected from the underground. A glance around the edge of the treetrunk reflected firelight in his steely blue eyes, firelight he wanted to inspect from a safer angle.
Hedgehog claws were not designed to climb, but even so Zack made good use of the sharp tips as he shimmied up the rough bark of the tree, ignoring the dribbles of sap that stuck hair to his face, cloths to his body and his body to the tree. Falling pine needles stuck against his skin and itched, making him miserable but there was nothing that could be done. Until a branch that was thick enough to support his weight could be found, the Hedgehog would have to put up with the discomfort.
Halfway up the treetrunk, branches finally began to thicken and taper at the right angle. Wrapping his legs around one and sinking his claws into the bark, Zack slid out onto his stomach on the treebranch, gazing down towards the firelight.
Shadowy sillouettes jumped against his eyes, outlined in the fire. Double jointed and bent over like something long extinct but furred, earless and tailless. Stone Throwers, creatures which would cast around the lives of others as if they didn't matter at all. The Striped Ones, in this case. Stone Throwers, however, could be of any race. Dragons and Angels seemed especially fond of shattering the shimmering Materia that soldified deep in the earth. Narrowing his eyes and taking stock of the campsite, Zack tried to trace down the owner of the feathers. It was hard to tell from a distance, but a splotch of dusky white at the far end of camp...That could be it, that icould/i be it...
Sitting up on the treebranch, Zack swung his legs around and prepared to work his way back down the trunk...before coming nose to sloped-snout with one of the giant eyed shadowy Stone Throwers who had been sitting silently behind him, awaiting attention. The Hedgehog gave a shout and the spikes at his back instinctively flared, shredding a hole through the fabric of his shirt. Zack considered jumping, but hardly had time before a black spider-web knit net landed around his shoulders and ensnared his spikes, trapping him in its nigh unseen confines.
"Well," the dark-haired Hedgehog muttered to himself as the Striped Ones lowered the net carefully from the branches above, signaling to one another as another cramped-looking cage was being assembled on the ground below. "This sure as hell wasn't what I meant to do."
The only way Zack had been able to fit into the little cage, which was meant more for carrying small animals like pigs or dogs than humanoids, was to curl into a fetal position. Even so, his spikes still stood out and rattled against the bamboo bars, and his head jolted harshly against the roof-bars of the pen whenever it was lifted or dropped without warning. Although the Striped Ones took a while in their march back to camp, Zack soon found his own prison deposited next to that of the white-feathered creature he'd been following. The light build of the creature and soft features forced the Hedgehog to do a double-take at the blonde, the flickering firelight not helping in shadowy distortions. "Oh, whoa," he muttered, somewhat dumbfounded when the thought finally worked its way through. "You're a boy."
Wings which were obviously stretched at angles unnatural to their build ruffled a little as the blonde lifted his head and glanced out of one eye at the Hedgehog. When he spoke, his voice was dark but somewhat broken. Forced cynicism, probobly one of the better coping mechanisms for the pain he must be in, Zack decided. "What are you, some sort of deformed Angel?"
Zack snorted and tried to rear back, but knocked his head against the roof of the cage again. "Maybe I should be asking you that, Feathery. See these claws? These spikes? I'm a Hedgehog, man. Never had wings and wouldn't know what to do with them if I got 'em."
Shadows flickering on his face, the feathered creature regarded Zack once more and lowered his chin to his knees. "Oh," He muttered, shoulders stretching in what little way they could. "I've heard about your kind. Magicians and hypnotists."
"No, now you're confusing us with Felines. What're you, anyway? You look like the deformed Angel to me."
"I'm a Bird," the blonde's reply was concise. "But I don't belong to a clan or nest any more. I'm nameless and rejected."
"Bird, huh? Family's important to you guys, isn't it? What'd you do to be kicked out?" Zack shifted in his pen and tried to find any position that was more comfortable than his current to sit in. It didn't work. "I'm Zack, by the way. Knightblade."
The nameless Bird sighed and rubbed his cheek against the torn fabric that covered his knees. "I was supposed to be knocked from the sky because I didn't like giant hanging chest-decorations, giggly dispositions and catty attitudes."
"Ohh, so since you don't want to fuck girls they decided to kill you." Zack fell silent a moment, musing, before speaking again. "Well that's probobly one of the stupider things I've heard of."
The blonde Bird snorted and grinned ever so slightly through the bars of his cage at the Hedgehog. "You're blunt."
"So I've been told. So...Nameless..." Zack kicked at the bars of his pen with his hindclaws, watching the springy bamboo creak and return to its previous shape.
Cocking his head slightly, the Bird regarded him as another fall of bangs covered one eye. "Hmm?"
"When do they feed us around here?"