Freedom.
Tiny wings beat rhythmically.
Against the breeze, it carried the creature effortlessly through the sky.
Far from the dense forest, in a secluded meadow on the outskirts of a small, uncharted village near the kingdom of Vale, when the sun dipped low in the sky, casting a warm glow over the landscape and high above, something small and fragile flitted between the clouds, riding the currents of the wind with grace and freedom that seemed out of place.
It was no larger than a bird, yet its movements were deliberate and competent, not the erratic flutter of a reflexive creature.
It had been days since the skies of Remnant had changed in subtle, imperceptible ways. Something new was here. Somethings.
And like seeds in the wind, the people remained unaware of the strange creatures that had scattered across continents.
Among these strange new arrivals was the diminutive and tiny pterosaur.
He was known by some as Pterry.
He hadn't noticed the shift until his relatives alerted him. His small, simple mind couldn't grasp such things. All he knew was that the earth beneath his wings was not the same one he remembered. That didn't bother him.
He was still flying, still free, and that was enough.
Unlike the Foundation's lockboxes where he had once been contained.
Pterry soared above a forest. His wings caught the updrafts of the warm afternoon breeze. His eyes flicked over the treetops, searching for something interesting.
He was curious by nature.
The world was a playground, and there were no threats in his simple existence—only the thrill of discovery.
He looked for anything that might pique his interest—a new food source, perhaps, or a shiny object to examine. He wasn't sure what he was looking for, but he trusted his instincts. They'd never failed him before.
Not a place to rest, though. He already had a temporary nest with his companions.
That is, if you could call the back of a sentient, skeleton of a carnivorous Allosaurus a nest.
His stomach rumbled faintly, and Pterry chirped softly to himself. It had been a while since he'd eaten. Back where he came from, there had always been plenty of insects and small animals to snack on, even nutrition that was fed to him by the people in white coats. Here, though... he hadn't seen anything familiar since he'd arrived in this strange place.
He dipped lower, wings fluttering as he circled a clearing. There was no food here, just grass and flowers swaying in the breeze.
The sunlight warmed his back as he hovered for a moment, considering whether it was worth landing.
Pterry tilted his head, scanning the area, as well as his peripherals for dangers. A strange scent lingered in the air—earthy, a bit like the animal prey he knew. He couldn't place it, and he didn't like things he could not place.
Unexpectedly, the distant sound of rustling leaves reached his ears. Something was moving through the forest below, large enough to break branches as it passed.
With his instincts kicking in immediately, he turned sharply, rising back up into the safety of the sky. Whatever was down there wasn't for him. Too big. Too dangerous.
Was it those white masked-black creatures that were unidentifiable?
Pterry recalled at least two days ago, one of those dark creatures that looked like an overgrown wolf stumbling on the private grounds his companions established as their territory.
No one may have recognized the creature, but they were prepared to show hostility to it with no hesitation, intending to kick the thing out with a few injuries.
After all, it did intrude on a claimed territory uninvited.
Imagine their befuddlement when it ignored them as if they never existed, instead, sniffing and probing its surroundings. The audacity.
It was a few moments later that it was downtrodden to death by 6512. Then its body dissipated.
Pterry found them to be terrifying, unsuccessfully hiding himself behind 250 through the skeletal gaps.
He chirped quietly again, almost as if reassuring himself. His wings beat a little faster, propelling him higher until the sounds faded beneath him.
Up here, he was safe. Up here, nothing from those on the ground could reach him.
The winds carried him farther away from the forest and toward the open plains beyond, relaxing, gliding on the currents with ease. His mind wandered, thinking of nothing in particular.
Just the simple contentment of flight.
He banked left, letting the breeze guide him as he flew over the plains. A small shadow moved far below him—too small to be like the Dark Creature, and too far away to make out clearly. Maybe not. He didn't care enough to investigate.
Pterry was content to drift, to let the wind take him wherever it would. There was no rush, no need to land anytime soon. But his brethren agreed to check their surroundings and explore.
Something was wrong with this world, he knows this. The others know this. All he knew was that it was better to stay with each other.
For now, they were safe. But how long would that last?
Pterry flapped his wings, rising higher, the distant silhouette of the meadow where his companions waited coming into view. He rode the gentle updrafts towards them, He circled once, taking in the lay of the land below, spotting the small ridges of rock, a meadow to be exact, where they had made their temporary home.
A modest nest, perhaps, but it was far from the prying eyes of other creatures and sheltered enough to provide some safety from the strange black-and-white beings that haunted the forest.
This was their territory.
His companions were as unusual as he was—other displaced beings that, like him, had no place in this world.
Pterry dipped lower, letting out a soft chirp to announce his arrival. His tiny wings carried him smoothly toward a low-hanging branch near the clearing where the others had gathered.
Below, his pack was gathered. It was an unusual group, but they had formed a tight-knit agreement since their arrival in this strange new world.
There was 250, who rarely moved unless necessary, its bones clattering together in an eerie symmetry.
Pterry, small and nimble, was the least intimidating member of the pack, but he had proven his worth through his agility and observance.
His arrival was met with a brief acknowledgment: 250's skull tilted slightly, the hollow sockets of its eyes somehow conveying an awareness that the Allosaurus had noticed him. The others, too, were cautious but calm, yet communicated in silence.
6512, the bloated chickens that had somehow become more like miniature T-Rexes, wandered about, their feathers puffed up as they lazily pecked at the ground.
A few of them raised their heads, their amber eyes gleaming for any sign of danger. Alert as always. How did they tear that creature that had wandered too close to their territory while their oversized bodies moved faster than they looked again?
Nearby, 5893, the group of Ignitive Stygimolochs, stood in their usual spot, their bony domed heads were giving off the usual faint heat signatures as they watched the horizon.
The pack needed a strong defence. Their sharp, fiery temperaments had proven useful. They kept flicking their tails idly as the day began to wane.
In the distance, one of the larger creatures of the pack—6675, perhaps the most intimidating stood tall, its long neck allowing it to keep watch over the area from a higher vantage point.
The massive creature's wings, folded neatly at its sides, made it look like a warden, ever ready to take to the skies if the need arose.
As Pterry hopped closer to 250, he chirped again, a quiet greeting. The Allosaurus obviously didn't respond in any way a human might recognise, but Pterry could sense the acknowledgment through instinct. They had all adjusted to each other's strange and individual mannerisms by now.
After nearly a week of living together, Pterry learned how to interpret their signals easily. He didn't understand most of them, but the signs gave him enough information to fill in the blanks.
Pterry's body language seemed to speak of curiosity, as it leaned forward expectantly, waiting to see what was happening. He stared directly at 250, hoping his presence would convey what he was quite grasping.
Perhaps this was how humans felt when they interacted with their friends.
250 shifted, looking away momentarily before turning to face Pterry and speaking to him. It was speaking slowly, its speech pattern slightly more familiar compared to the others, since 250 was the first Pterry had interacted.
Pterry tilted his head.
He didn't really understand what exactly they were saying, but their words flowed smoothly into him. Like water trickling over smooth stones, the only noise in his thoughts was the faintest hum.
Speaking of water, at the same time, a large splash was heard behind them, followed by a groan. Pterry whirled around.
Simultaneously, nearly every one of the pack reacted as one, landing their gazes at the origin. There was no danger, however.
Lounging by a small pond, with a large fish in its mouth, 7565, the Mokele-Mbembe. The creature's long neck and bulky body looked peaceful at this moment despite the struggling fish.
Pterry saw it being swallowed down to its stomach, the large jaws clamping down tightly, muscles in its jaw flexing as its head snapped around to the other fishes scrambling to move further away from the approaching creature.
Then 7565 lumbered across the grass, flopping on its side and resting its head beside a large boulder.
They've been out here for too long.
7565 was muttering to itself lowly.
They need more food. A croaked sound was heard.
Another growl from the Mokele and another splash in the pond. 7565 shifted, turning its head to peer in the direction of the edge of the clearing, one of the 8280 Ankylosaurs shuffled around.
Those heavily armoured bodies and clubbed tails made them formidable in any confrontation, but right now, they seemed more interested in the grasses they were munching on.
Pterry chirped softly again as he hovered briefly above them before settling on a nearby tree branch.
5893 gave a brief, sharp snort to the small bird, while 6675 lifted its head slightly, its sharp eyes meeting Pterry's for just a moment before returning to its vigil.
The sun was beginning to set. If the Allosaurus had not seen the bright rays from above, then he wouldn't have been able to spot them from the other side of the meadow. They were hidden well beneath the shade of the trees that surrounded them.
A dark shadow fell upon the ground near the pond, quickly drawing everyone's attention. It was quick and almost missed.
It was the Dark Creature from earlier, except its shape is airborne and bird-like. Pterry instantly deduces it to be of intermediate size.
Its skin was a shadow below the day considerably, though not unnoticeably so that a stranger would notice. The bony mask overlays the upper head. Its body was covered in a layer of fur and feathers, more fluffy with a spine with a little bit thicker around the edges.
A 6512 cocked its head in questions, raising a question on why there seems to be another variant of the thing they destroyed a few days ago.
The dark shape in the sky swooped closer, circling the clearing like a vulture spotting prey. Nevertheless, its presence was an affront.
This was their territory—ground and sky alike.
Pterry chirped nervously as the pack stirred. Every head turned toward the intruder. None moved. Not yet. They knew their place, and more importantly, they knew who would deal with this violation.
The only members that enter the sky are Pterry and...
6675 stood tall. Its long neck craned as it fixed its cold gaze on the Nevermore. The creature remained perfectly still, like a statue carved from stone. Its folded wings make it look like that of a sentinel. But there was no mistake.
For 6675 menacingly stared at the second audacious being.
The Nevermore flapped lower over the meadow as it circled. It was seeking something, though the pack didn't really care about its intention. Because what is important is that it had made a fatal mistake.
With a slow, deliberate movement, 6675 stretched its wings, the leathery membranes unfurling with a faint rustle. It did not roar, did not bellow. Instead, it released a low, guttural hum, a sound so deep that it resonated through the air like a tremor in the earth.
It was no ordinary sound.
It was anomalous.
The Nevermore faltered for a moment, its wings hitching mid-flap like it was confused. Its head tilted to the side. 6675's vocals were not meant to communicate in any conventional sense. It was a distortion, a vocalization designed to warp the senses of its target.
From the Nevermore's point of view, meanwhile, the entire world turned.
The sky started to shift, the ground suddenly beckoning, closer and safer than it truly was. Its instincts urged it to descend, to seek an opening, to explore this new, strange sensation that rippled through its mind like static.
6675 remained motionless, its hum continuing to warp reality in the Grimm's perception. There was no rush. Its eyes remained fixed on the Nevermore as it gradually lowered itself, wings flapping lazily, entranced.
Closer.
Closer still.
The pack remained still, watching in silence. They trust 6675 to handle the situation. Pterry was nervous. The Nevermore had no idea it was sealing its fate. It glided lower, now almost within reach of 6675's beak.
And then, in an instant, 6675 struck.
There was no chance to escape, no time to react.
Its long neck shot forward like a spear, its sharp beak piercing the Nevermore. The Grimm let out a strangled screech as 6675's beak plunged through its chest, tearing through feathers and bone alike. The creature thrashed violently.
6675 held it fast, wings flaring as it drove the Nevermore into the ground with brutal force, pinning it beneath its weight. The Grimm flailed weakly, its life draining away as the beak of the predator ripped through it.
The others merely watched as the Nevermore dissolved into black mist, its remains dissipating like smoke in the wind. No victory cries, no celebration. Only the haunted, still sight of 6675, standing over where the Grimm had fallen.
The skies were theirs once again.
This is their territory.