Darkwing Read online

  CHAPTER 15

  TRUE NATURES

  It was dawn, and Carnassial was searching for eggs. It wasn’t scarcity that drove him up into the trees: even after the chiropters had fled, four days ago, the island still had plenty of prey. Last night he’d caught several groundlings to fill his belly. But his many years as a saurian hunter had left him with a craving for eggs—the delectable, viscous fluid, the tender flesh of the unborn.

  It was proving difficult to find unguarded nests. The birds here were extremely vigilant, and vicious whenever he got too close. He’d already had one rake him with its talons. He would’ve attacked it and broken its neck, except that four more birds had quickly come to help the first, driving him back in a flurry of beaks and wings. He’d moved off deeper into the forest.

  Beside him in the sinewy branches of a copperwood slunk Miacis. She’d become his frequent hunting partner, and he was glad of it, since she was proving to be, after him, the most accomplished in the prowl. He wondered idly if she’d one day consent to be his mate. The thought gave him little pleasure, for he still thought often about Panthera, even though she was lost to him forever.

  He stopped and sniffed. It was eerily quiet in this part of the forest. He hadn’t heard a bird or seen a nest in some time. But his nostrils picked up a telltale scent of mud, saliva, and dried grass. He looked all around. There.

  At first he thought the nest was abandoned, it looked so forlorn, crumbling a bit on one side. He glanced at Miacis and nodded. They stole forward, listening, tasting the air. There was no sound of nearby birds. Carnassial reached the nest and peeked inside.

  The shape of the eggs made him hesitate. They were perfectly round. He’d never seen such eggs. Their shells were white, which was common with bird eggs, but these were considerably larger. He licked his teeth greedily. The nest itself was the typical greasy braid of grasses and twigs, virtually identical to the others he’d poached from. Yet these eggs did not seem to match the nest.

  “They could almost be saurian eggs,” said Miacis softly.

  A dreadful thrill coursed down Carnassial’s spine, flooding him with both fear and excitement. He missed his days as a saurian hunter. It was not so long ago he’d been able to satisfy his craving for meat and still remain part of the prowl. He thought of Panthera, her scent, and felt the familiar clench of longing in his chest.

  He sniffed one of the spherical eggs, then lapped it with his tongue. Its shell tasted strange. He drew back and invited Miacis to taste it as well.

  There was no warning. Hooked claws sank into Miacis’s back and she was jerked off her feet, thrashing and screaming. Carnassial looked up in horror to see a winged creature lifting her into the air. It hovered, huge wings beating almost silently, and then its beak opened and plunged into Miacis’s neck.

  Carnassial tensed, not knowing whether to flee or attack. Within seconds Miacis was beyond help, her torn body limp in the creature’s talons. Carnassial scrambled backwards, never taking his eyes off this thing. It dumped Miacis onto the branch and landed atop her, eating her, fur and all.

  Carnassial had never seen anything like it. Its powerful wings had made it seem huge, though its actual body was not so much bigger than his own. At first he assumed it must be a saurian, for it seemed covered in mottled scales, and from its head jutted two horns. But as the creature folded its wings, Carnassial saw they were feathered, and what he thought were scales on its broad chest was densely layered brown and white plumage. Those weren’t horns protruding from its head, but some kind of thick tufts, angling angrily up over each large eye. It was a bird, but a type he’d never encountered. A predator.

  It watched him, swivelling its head to follow his wary retreat through the twisting branches. Those malevolent eyes made Carnassial shiver, for they were like frozen things, but gave the piercing impression of seeing sharply, and for a great distance.

  The bird had killed Miacis, his strongest hunter. It had torn her asunder as though she were nothing more than a sodden pile of leaves. Before he turned to leap to the forest floor, Carnassial saw a second raptor drop silently down to join the first. It gave two mournful, resonant hoots, and from deeper in the forest Carnassial heard several answering calls.

  He bolted.

  When he reached the sequoia, most of his felids were already in the clearing, and Carnassial sent out an alarm yowl to summon the others. Within minutes his entire prowl was assembled.

  “We must leave the island,” he told them, without offering any explanation.

  He ran, leading his prowl towards the coast. The forest was haunted with the calls of the raptors, slow but deliberate. “What are those sounds?” Katzen asked nervously. “Killers,” Carnassial said tersely.

  The felids pounded through the undergrowth. It was impossible to tell where the hoots came from. The other birds were silent, as though afraid their dawn chorus would attract deadly attention. Carnassial’s eyes warily swept the branches overhead.

  They finally broke from the trees onto the beach, and he rejoiced to see that the water had drawn back, and the sand bridge had reappeared.

  “We can cross,” he said, leading the way.

  But he had hardly set foot on the sand when he saw, advancing towards them from the mainland, dozens of felids. At the forefront was Patriofelis, and at his side was Panthera.

  Waking, Dusk couldn’t explain the calm hopefulness he felt as he lay against the bark, not yet ready to stir. He was content just to look around and breathe in the early scents of the forest. Even his grief for his mother was muted momentarily. Maybe it was the gentle dawn sunlight through the branches, or the familiar sight of other chiropters already slanting through the air, hunting. Maybe it was simply that he felt safe. His father had already gone off somewhere, but Sylph still slumbered beside him.

  When he could no longer ignore the grumblings of his stomach he stood and launched himself off the branch. As he hunted, several grey-furred newborns called out hellos to him. Gyrokus’s colony was surprisingly friendly. Dusk had been nervous around them at first, especially since half of them seemed to be soldiers, constantly engaged in various drills and sentry duties. But they didn’t mind sharing their trees with a strange colony, and were pleased to answer any questions Dusk had. They were obviously proud of their home, so proud that they didn’t seem to have the slightest curiosity about where Dusk had come from. He was just as happy not to talk about it right now, his memories were so weighted with sadness. He was simply grateful to be accepted, despite his strange appearance. Gyrokus’s chiropters didn’t seem bothered by his furless sails or jutting ears. And, of course, he made sure not to fly, and risk becoming a freak all over again. Even his own colony had been nicer to him over the past few days. Several had actually thanked him for getting them across the water.

  After catching his fill of insects, he saw his father talking to Gyrokus with Sol and Barat. Wanting to know what they were discussing, he came in to land a ways off, but their conversation had reached an end, and they were already dispersing. He called out to Dad.

  “You’ve eaten well?” his father asked.

  Dusk nodded, and wondered if his father had. He tried not to let his eyes stray too often to his father’s wounded shoulder. At least it looked like it had been freshly cleaned, though he wasn’t sure it was healing over yet.

  His father nodded towards the lower regions of the tree. “Down there,” he said. “You see them? Those are ptilodonts.”

  Dusk caught sight of the small sinewy animals, moving nimbly through the branches. They had long tails that could wrap around a twig to give them extra support and balance. They chattered animatedly with one another. “And on the ground,” his father said, “do you see that one?” Dusk had spotted something like that when he’d first arrived on the mainland, a lumbering giant with a dark coat, spotted white. “Those teeth …” Dusk said nervously.

  “Tusks. Not for hunting,” Dad reassured him. “Watch. See how he digs up the earth with them. He’s
looking for grubs or tubers. He’s not a meat-eater.”

  “Must be good for defending himself, though,” said Dusk, wishing he’d had such fearsome things the night the felids attacked their colony.

  “There’s Sylph,” Dad said, seeing her glide past. He called out and beckoned her to join them.

  “I like it here,” said Sylph as she landed. ““Everyone does. Are we staying?”

  “We’ll return to the island, once it’s safe,” said Dad. “But that might take a long time,” said Sylph. “We’d stay here until then, wouldn’t we?”

  “Gyrokus would need to invite us first,” Dad told her. “Would you say yes?”

  “It would mean I couldn’t fly,” Dusk said quietly.

  “Oh. I hadn’t thought of that,” said Sylph. “But isn’t it better to stay here with everyone else than find someplace off by ourselves?”

  Dusk knew exactly what she meant. It was reassuring being surrounded by all of Gyrokus’s vigilant soldiers, even if they were a bit arrogant and aloof. Maybe it was plain selfish of him even to be thinking of flying right now.

  “You’ll fly again, Dusk,” his father promised him. “Once this upheaval has ended, and we’re back on our own.”

  “It’s not like my own colony even wanted me to fly,” Dusk said.

  “They should let you do whatever you want,” said Sylph. “If it weren’t for you, we couldn’t have escaped the island.”

  “Your sister is your most outspoken ally,” Dad said, looking at Sylph kindly. “She has a loyal heart.”

  “I’m just outspoken in general,” Sylph said, but Dusk could tell she was happy to win her father’s praise. Dusk breathed in and almost didn’t want to exhale. He didn’t want this good moment to pass away from him. It was so pleasant being together, just the three of them, without any elders nearby. But it also made him feel his mother’s absence more keenly. Would he ever be able to look at his father and sister without thinking someone was missing?

  The urgency in Sylph’s voice jarred him. “Dad, is that a—?”

  Dusk followed his sister’s gaze to the ground. A sleek four-legged creature effortlessly leapt onto the lower branches of a neighbouring tree and proceeded to bound higher. Dusk heard startled screams, and his sails flared instinctively, his body ready for flight.

  “It’s a felid!” Sylph gasped. “It’s coming up!”

  “Don’t be afraid!” Gyrokus called out loudly from the clearing. “This felid is our friend, and he comes at my invitation.”

  In amazement, Dusk watched as Gyrokus glided towards the felid and landed beside it, just one branch below him and Sylph and Dad.

  “Welcome, Montian,” said Gyrokus heartily. “Welcome!”

  “Hello, Gyrokus.” The felid’s low purr made Dusk’s jaws clench.

  “Icaron, come and join us,” the powerful chiropter leader called up. “Your elders too.”

  Nervously, Dusk watched as his father glided down to their branch, calling out for Sol and Barat and Nova. Within a few moments his elders were around him. The felid sat upright on its rump, its forelegs extended. This image of civility was such a stark contrast to his memory of the ravening beasts on the island that Dusk could scarcely believe they were the same species. Peeping down, he and Sylph listened as Gyrokus introduced Dad and his elders to Montian.

  “I have news that I hope will please you,” the felid purred. “Patriofelis’s soldiers are confronting Carnassial even as we speak.”

  Gyrokus gave an approving snort. “Excellent. And how does Patriofelis plan to resolve this problem?”

  “Carnassial has chosen his own prison,” Montian said, “and Patriofelis means to keep him there. An alliance of beasts will organize a permanent watch on the mainland, to make sure Carnassial’s prowl never leaves the island.”

  “But that’s our home!” Dusk blurted, before he could check himself.

  “Dusk, silence!” his father said sharply. He turned back to the felid emissary. “This is not the solution we’d hoped for. We meant to return to our home as quickly as possible.”

  “Patriofelis has decided that the island is an ideal place to isolate Carnassial until he and his prowl die from starvation.”

  “They won’t starve there,” said Icaron. “They’ll live on, and breed. It would be better to put a stop to them now.”

  Montian looked at Icaron calmly, almost insolently. He lifted his front paws, one after another from the bark, licked them, and put them down again. “You are advocating murder?”

  “Carnassial has already murdered; he must be accountable for his actions.”

  “Surely Patriofelis’s solution is better than spilling more blood,” said Montian.

  Dusk couldn’t stop himself hating this felid. Even if Montian wasn’t personally responsible for the massacre, it was his kind who’d murdered Mom—and here he was trying to make Dad and the chiropters look bloodthirsty. It was disgusting.

  “I understand your anger,” Montian went on, “and I am truly sorry you and your colony have suffered. I can only say that Carnassial’s prowl are outcasts, and share nothing in common with the other felid kingdoms. But if we are to kill our own kind, does it not make us as bad as Carnassial?”

  “No,” said Icaron, “because he has broken the law first. He’s a liability to all the beasts. Patriofelis’s solution isn’t just, and it punishes my colony by robbing us of our home.”

  “I agree,” said Montian, “that your colony suffers unfairly, but Patriofelis felt the solution was best for the common good, all things considered.”

  Dusk could see the fur on his father’s neck bristle; his own was bristling. He hated being dictated to by these creatures.

  “This is Patriofelis’s decision,” said Montian. “I am only conveying the news of it.”

  “Thank you, Montian,” said Gyrokus. “We understand. Convey our best regards and thanks to your leader.”

  The felid nodded at Gyrokus and Icaron, then sprang away down the tree. Dusk exhaled, his heart still pounding in anger.

  “That was no way for allies to behave,” Icaron told Gyrokus.

  The battle-scarred chiropter merely grunted. “You must remember that the felids are our most powerful allies. We need their friendship. It’s best we don’t anger them.”

  Dusk narrowed his eyes at Gyrokus. This gruff chiropter leader hadn’t said anything to support Dad in front of Montian. He didn’t even seem that upset by the news. It wasn’t fair that Carnassial was allowed to take over their island, their tree. He loved that tree, every knobbly surface of it.

  “They should send their soldiers in and kill them,” Sylph whispered beside him, and Dusk couldn’t help agreeing with her, no matter how brutal it sounded.

  “It seems our home is permanently lost to us, then,” said Icaron.

  “You will find a new one,” Gyrokus said. “Here, if you wish.” Dusk blinked.

  “My elders and I have spoken on this at some length,” Gyrokus continued. “You’ve suffered a great deal and you’re in need of a home. You’d be very welcome to join my colony. Very welcome indeed.”

  “This is an extremely generous offer,” Sol said. Dusk caught Sylph looking over at him, smiling.

  “I thank you, Gyrokus,” Icaron said. “I must of course discuss this with my elders.”

  “We’re honoured by your invitation,” Nova told Gyrokus warmly.

  “As am I,” said Barat.

  “My family as well would welcome this place as our home,” said Sol.

  Dusk was surprised at the speed of the elders’ decision. He knew he should’ve felt more grateful, but he didn’t. It was one thing to imagine staying here a little while—but forever? A place where he could never hope to be himself, to fly? He couldn’t do it. He needed to fly.

  “The more numerous we are,” said Gyrokus, “the stronger we’ll be! If war ever comes we will be all the mightier. Join us and prosper with us.” He looked at Icaron. “You would, of course, be an honoured elder.”
br />   But not leader, Dusk realized with a start. He hadn’t thought that far ahead. Joining another colony didn’t just mean a new home, it meant a new leader. He felt sick. He watched Dad, trying to guess what he was thinking. “The decision is yours, my friend,” Gyrokus told Icaron. Dusk waited, sensing that his entire colony, scattered about in the branches, was also holding its breath, hoping.

  “The safety of my colony is my gravest concern,” Icaron said, “and I know they would find an excellent home here. Give me some time to consider your kind offer, Gyrokus.”

  Dusk felt relief, but heard Sylph’s sigh of frustration, a sigh that seemed to whisper faintly through the branches.

  “Of course,” said Gyrokus. “Take all the time you need. It is a big decision you must make—a daunting one, I’m sure, for a colony that has led such a secluded life.”

  “The island was our home for almost twenty years,” Sol said.

  “Twenty years!” said Gyrokus in amazement. “I had not realized it was so long.”

  Dusk noticed a new attentiveness in the grizzled leader’s eyes.

  “Tell me,” he asked, “before you came to the island, where was your original colony?”

  “Not so far from here,” Icaron replied. “To the south. Our leader was Skagway.”

  “I remember him. He would have died not long after you left. He was killed hunting saurian eggs.”

  “He was a brave hunter,” said Icaron.

  Gyrokus looked steadily at Icaron for a moment before asking, “Why did you leave?”

  Dusk swallowed. Would his father lie, and say it was to find new hunting grounds? What truthful thing could he say that wouldn’t reveal they’d been driven out? He looked at Nova and saw her ears flick anxiously.

  Icaron said evenly, “I left with three other families because we chose not to hunt saurian eggs.”

  Dusk could hear the surprised murmurings of Gyrokus’s chiropters as this news seeped through the trees.

  Gyrokus opened his mouth as if tasting the air, then exhaled slowly. “Icaron. Yes. I wondered why your name was familiar. You were all expelled as traitors.”