Minglings 33: Competition [part 2]

Jake moved through along the interconnected branches of the jungle like a silent predator. Making sure that he kept his prey in his sights, he stayed as far from it as he could. 

Disgusting, he thought when he saw the Insectoid scuttle across some moldy wood on all four, taking a bite out of something that looked like a day old rotten fruit of some kind. Two days now, he had been stalking this thing, and if he didn't find something useful today, he would have to go back. Without him in camp, the others got restless, and Garry kept kicking up trouble. 

Bolyr will just have to put him in his place. Again. The memory of Garry's disgruntled shouts when Bolyr dragged him to the tree and hung him upside down from some vines brought a smile to his face. One of the few since Mason had changed. 

Ahead of him, the insectoid, covered in a black and green exoskeleton, took a sudden turn through the side of the dense jungle, disappearing from view. Jake frowned at the sudden change. It had been acting all carefree until now. Had it noticed him? 

Not too far from him was a thick vine growth joining the trees in the direction the Insectoid had dashed, and keeping his eyes open, Jake climbed across the lush and hairy branches. Feeling the carpet like sensation between his taloned limbs, the thought of cultivating some for their living quarters crossed his mind. In front of him was a thick wall of purplish leaves, and any idea of interior decorating fled his mind when he saw the sight beyond.

A vast lake of crystal clear water lay in front of him, with a single green island in the middle like a beautiful emerald. It was the imposing crown of a heart-tree, almost as large as the one they had found, and it covered the isle like an umbrella. How had he not spotted this from up in the air? 

Movement in the water drew his attention to the Insectoid that was swimming straight for the island. It held its head above the water and was continually checking across its shoulder. 

Jake curiously followed it until it exited the water and disappeared on the island. He waited for a while, but nothing happened. Is this where they have been hiding? He wasn't sure, but if it were, they had chosen a poor place. Examining the water, he noticed a few small canals flowing away in the general direction of the sea. The corners of his maw curved up in a bad imitation of a human grin, and after a last look at the island, he turned and disappeared into the foliage.  

--

The colder air swirled around Mason's head as he looked down at the spec that was the island. The sun glowed on his back and wings, but its heat made barely any difference, and he shivered.  I am definitely not going to be living anywhere cold anymore. 

Trying to ignore the cold, he double-checked his position and nodded to himself. This should be it, the angle to blind any birds that might look up. He began gliding down, feeling like an apex predator. 

Weeks had passed since he woke up on this island in the middle of nowhere, and the birds had finally learned to stop chasing him. Although it gave him a deep feeling of power and control, more than he ever had before, it also posed a problem. He needed food to grow, both in size and strength, before he could even think about flying anywhere beyond these small islands. 

When he had descended low enough for the air to feel warm to his body, he saw King Peacock sitting on the top of the small mountain. It was constantly rotating its two ugly brown and grey heads, scanning the island's dense forest below. Of his once-mighty flock of terror-birds, only a handful remained, huddled as close to him as they dared. 

Shouldn't have gone hunting in such small groups, now there's not enough of you left!  Mason felt a bloodthirst and desire for wanton slaughter bubble up from deep within. Instead of shoving it away, he analyzed it closely, trying to determine where it came from. It wasn't the first time he felt like this, but as he heard the scream of one of the birds, he knew this wasn't the time. Keeping a mental eye on his own emotional stability, a knack he had learned as a boy, he focused his full attention on King Peacock.

He was so close he could see some leftover bones lying on the perch behind the bird. He glided the last part, with his head angled down. Right above the king, he folded his wings and dove down like a hawk. He prepared both his fire and his hind legs. As he plummeted down, he wished again that he could just kill the bird from the air. But so far, he missed more than he hit if he shot from the sky, and he couldn't risk the bird getting away. He needed its meat!

A dozen or so meters before he reached King Peacock, its left head looked up, and Mason saw its yellow eyes widen. Before it could so much as squawk Mason slammed into it, his heavily muscled back legs pointing forward. His talons sliced into the monstrous bird's enormous curled up wings, ripping one apart at the joint. 

The loudest screech he had ever heard, caused his ears to pop and head to almost burst. It sounded like dozens of alarms that went off simultaneously, and suddenly everything was hidden behind a dense grey fog. Feeling woozy, he tried to focus, but before he could react, something struck against the side of the head. Gripping the feathery coat in a blind panic, he barely managed to hold on. The dark grey areas were covering his vision, effectively blinding him, and he shook his head, getting ready to jump off backward. 

A grey smudge moved in the corner of his eye, and he ducked his head, feeling more than seeing something shoot passed. His head almost touched the back of the bird, and slowly his sight cleared enough to see something. He was looking straight at the base of the bird's necks. Without hesitating, Mason opened his maw and spat a stream of fire against the neck. 

A second screech, louder even then the first, caused his vision to go completely black. Without holding back, he kept spraying fire in front and below his feet. The bird screeched, softer this time, and slit along the side of his neck, and he felt his scales bent, but held. Then something cannoned into him, knocking him down, and he scrambled for a hold with his front legs. Below him, he heard the bird stomp, flap, and bucking to get him off. 

His claws came loose with talons full of feathers, and he landed with a heavy thud on the hard stone. Without waiting, he turned his almost blind gaze to the direction of the bird's frantic sounds. Slowly the orange glow of his fire began to make it through whatever it was the bird had done to him. The torrent of flame was pinning King Peacock against the stone wall behind him, its feathers and skin burned to a crisp. It still made some soft croaking sounds, but as Mason's vision returned in full, he saw the left head begin to crumble. 

With a sudden realization, Mason stopped the fire, and as soon as he did, he slumped to the ground. He began drawing ragged gulps of air, while his stomach felt like it was trying to curl up on itself from hunger. A loud thud came from the bird, that slid to the ground and mustering the little energy he had, Mason crawled forward. He needed to eat right now, or the smaller birds would come to finish him off. 

Dragging his body forward, he reached the almost cremated remains of King Peacock. He saw none of the smaller birds anywhere, but that didn't mean they weren't there. None of the feathers had survived his sea of flames, and he bit into the big bird's body, ripping pieces of meat off, and swallowing them whole. The still-steaming flesh slid down his throat, and when it hit his stomach, it was as if fuel got added to a flagging fire. 

Mason reared up on his hind legs, his muscles cramping and bulging. He felt his body grow, and with a snarl, he dropped back to continue ravaging the corpse. 

When he finally got his faculties back, all that remained of King Peacock were bones, feathers, and a single hindleg. Mason chewed on the bone, gnawing the meat off before cracking the bone with his strong jaws and sucking out the marrow. Finished, he tossed the remnants on the pile and stretched himself. 

"Ahh, that was great. I wonder what's for the desert!" He snorted, looking around for the small terror-birds. A deserted mountainside greeted him. Where there had once been a massive flock of birds, now only a few feathers remained. 

Mason felt a slight pang of guilt at the havoc he had wrought. It's survival of the fittest, he thought to himself before climbing up the top of the mountain and staring around. Besides his size, many things had improved after consuming the giant bird, not in the least his vision. Where he could once barely see the island with the spring, its outline was now clear. 

With a surge of hope, he began looking around. Perhaps he could see something else now? His gaze circled around, once, twice, but to no avail. The only thing he saw was water. 

Feeling somewhat helpless, he tried to cheer himself up with the idea that he might see something from the other islands. Jumping into the air, he barely noticed how much faster he was. The only thing on his mind was to find a way back.