shadows cast but none obscure his sight [fin]

[Vivosaurus]

The sight of trees and green and life caused Flint to sigh and dive down to go faster. As much of a paradise as Beyond the Beyond was for a collier or a rogue smith, it was such a wasteland, and everyone was so unsocial and closed. You couldn't carry on a proper conversation without someone getting offended because they felt as though they were being "interrogated." Asking personal questions, even inquiring about the name of a creature, was against some unwritten and even unspoken law. It just was. And it was maddening after a while. But Flint had to go there, for his "profession." It was the perfect time of year for coals-on-the-fly from Dunmore (and even ground coals, too, but Flint usually left those for the less-skilled colliers), one of the volcanoes in the Sacred Ring, and Flint had hurried to Beyond the Beyond to beat the traffic of the owls rushing over for coals. And he'd returned with a bucket full of Grade A Bonk and a satisfied gleam in his eyes.

Flint banked and spiraled down towards where he remembered there being a grog tree, from the last time he traveled to the Beyond with his dad, and extended out his long legs as he slowed to catch the branch. He arrived, a little travel-weary and ragged-looking, as he hadn't slept much the past few days and had spent most of that time flying and working. But he still puffed his chest out and stood tall as he was greeted by the scattered birds of prey. There weren't very many owls, as they tended to have separate grog trees, but, after a certain point, no one noticed if even a Great Grey sauntered in with bells on his wings. Or they just didn't care.

"Hey, Flame!" some of them yelled out as he set his bucket down. It was what most called him - Flint wondered if anyone remembered/knew his first name.

"Whatchya got there?" a large, teetering eagle asked.

Flint's father had always warned him to never be arrogant and reveal the contents of his bucket - it was rude, and one could never be certain if a coal-stealer was listening or not. "Some high-grade bonk coals from Dunmore," he boasted loudly, with triumph. Many of the birds 'ooh'ed and 'ahh'ed, even though most didn't understand what that meant, and the ones that did had digested too much binglejuice to comprehend what he'd said.

A thought crossed Flint's mind to talk to some of the birds he knew who would have been around the Forest of Tyto recently - he spotted some that were just drunk enough to talk, but not so drunk that they weren't coherent. But then an overwhelming rumbling in his belly stopped Flint from pursuing the matter. "Is there any good prey around? I'm half-starved," he called out to no one in particular.

[Fin]

On one of the lowest branches of the grog tree sat a scruffy, yet well-built Osprey opposite a fat, old hawk. The latter was more slumped than perched on the branch, holding a cup in his thick talons, blunt from little use. The two were discussing something, both with a reasonably serious look upon their features. There was a pause in the conversation, and the Osprey leaned forward, as if to try and hear what the old bird was thinking. The fat hawk finished his drink and put the cup down on the branch, gathering himself to fly away. The Osprey looked disappointed - another dead end. As the hefty bird flew away, the Osprey turned his head to see a new arrival to the grog tree. In an instant, his yellow eyes lit up and he leapt out of the tree, flicking his wings to port in a swift movement.

Higher in the tree it was more popular, and the Osprey had landed too far away. The birds around him seemed to be excited by the arrival of the bird, which meant that he was carrying something. Squeezing his way past bigger birds and avoiding smaller ones, he managed to reach the space around the harrier. Out of breath, the Osprey hopped over to him enthusiastically.

"Ignis! Oh, it's so good to see you!" Pisces squawked happily, throwing his right-hand wing around the harrier, leading him to a lesser populated part of the tree. When there were fewer birds within earshot, his voice then turned darker, "I thought you had died. Everyone was saying they got you. But here you are! Tell me, how are your kids? Are they wanting to become colliers too? What have you told them about the Guardians?" Pisces couldn't contain his happiness - his old friend, Ignis! There was so much to talk about.

[Vivosaurus]

Before the harrier could be answered, and indeed before he could so much as wiggle his wings, he heard a small commotion coming towards him. Birds were moving out of the way, but he didn't have much of a chance to investigate before a wing was thrust around his own. The next few words were hard to understand over the shifting of birds around him and his own shock, but Flint didn't complain. Perhaps this was just a friend he hadn't seen in a long time - at the very least, it could have been someone with food. Hurriedly, he grasped the bucket's handle with his beak and walked alongside the Osprey, confusion in his light yellow eyes.

The next sentences dissipated Flint's surprise, and his eyes grew hard with knowing. As soon as the other bird was done, Flint shifted away from him, stepping sideways farther along the branch. He stopped, turned, and fixed the Osprey with a cold glare. It didn't look angry, so much as bitter and rebellious. But then indifference washed over the stare and he set his bucket down carefully and stretched his wings. "I'm so hungry... I could eat a pelican. Are there any voles around here or something?" he asked, looking around nonchalantly, as if he hadn't been asked any sort of questions. "And, for the record, he never told us anything about the Guardians," Flint added with little emotion.

[Fin]

As soon as the Osprey had settled on the branch alongside the harrier, he looked at Ignis with a cheerful expression on his face. Hungry? Casting his piercing yellow eyes over the bird, anyone could see that. He was smaller than he was before - he hadn't been eating well, obviously. Stretching his wings again, Pisces rose from where he was sat.

"No need to get up, my friend. I shall get something for you." He said straight after Ignis mentioned it.Just as he hopped once along the branch and was ready to fly, the Osprey turned his head slowly in realisation. He?

In shock, the Osprey stood rigid where he was. Now, when he looked at this bird, he did not see Ignis. Instead, he saw a young Flame - his son? Wings dropping a little, Pisces turned to face the foreign bird in front of him. They looked so alike... it was uncanny.

"You must be his... son - Flint." Pisces said, his formerly excited composure now declining. The feathers on his head and chest lay flat. "So it must be true." His voice choked a little, now understanding that his friend was dead. Pausing, he turned to fly away. The brown-and-white bird swooped down out of view, but returned almost as quickly with a large vole in his beak. Putting it down on the branch near the harrier, Pisces was silent.

Why hadn't he told his own family about the Guardians? The thought rebounded in the Osprey's head like a buzzing bee. He supposed it would have been to protect them - if they starting blabbign about the Guardians, it might have put them in trouble. The least Pisces felt he could do was to tell the son about the Guardians, about his father. Heh, I hadn't even considered making a band when I first met him.

[Vivosaurus]

Flint brightened slightly at the mention that there would be food coming. He did love food, almost as much as fire and shiny objects, and after the long journey he had just taken, Flint couldn't focus until he had some warm prey underneath his talons. He couldn't even care too much what this bird had to do with him and why he thought he was his dad. That could be thought about later. Flint had never really thought about how much he looked like Flame Senior, and had yet to run into this problem. Then again, most birds he met lately were too drunk to care, or had already seen him with his dad once upon a time.

He nodded slightly. "Flint Flame, collier extraordinaire," he introduced himself as he always did, but with a lot less pomp and circumstance, and more of a matter-of-fact tone. None of the bowing and sweeping wings as he did to show off. He did have the heart to at a moment, or, frankly, the energy. "So it must be true." Flint's wings slumped and he looked away. His inability to voice a reply was answer enough.

For an instant, he thought the osprey had left him, but then he heard him coming back, and he eagerly pounced upon the vole just as it hit the branch next to him. He ravenously tore into the meat, stripping off bloody pieces that disappeared into his stomach, with little manners or consideration. His beak and talons were soon coated mostly in red and the carcass was half gone before he spoke.

"I'm... well, I'm kind of the only one left," he explained, continuing their previous conversation as if there had never been a break. What he said wasn't entirely true - he couldn't know what had happened to his brothers or sister, and he knew he had little siblings out there. But Flint didn't want this information to travel to the wrong birds, and so he kept quiet about it. He made no effort to find out what had happened to the rest of his family - it was one of the few selfless things he had done. So long as it was thought that he was the last survivor, they were all safe, except for maybe him. But he could handle that.

Most of Flint did not want the responsibility of talking to this bird, of being drawn back into this secret world of slipgizzles and Guardians and the resistance. But he knew he had to. So, once the vole was near gone, just a few bones and the pelt left, he straightened up and looked over at the osprey. "Why don't we go somewhere... more private. So we can talk," he said. His den, a small cave in a gathering of boulders, wasn't too far away. He pushed off from the branch, the bucket and the pelt (so he could maybe trade it later) in his talons, and pushed his powerful wings downward until he reached a current of air that lead towards his home.

[Fin]

Watching the bird with keen eyes, the Osprey perched patiently on the branch as he ate. And by Ga, this bird could eat quickly. Pisces blinked a few times when he saw that half of the prey had gone, but he had seen many birds on the brink of starvation. Owls were the worst - not eating for a while, then gulping down a whole rabbit! What a funny old barn owl he had been, that old Tyto - feathers dull from so many years alive, yet not a inch tainted by the Remnants. A lucky member of the resistance, the Osprey had called him, but the owl had shook his head. 'A different species' he had called himself. It took Pisces a long time to figure out what he had meant, but he finally got it a few hours after he had said farewell to the owl - these Remnants, they were not the 'true' tytos they called themselves.

Returning to reality to hear the harrier speak, he responded with his name, "Pisces." His family had never cared about surnames, they believed that they were fine the way they were. He decided to leave his 'profession' out of the conversation whilst they were surrounded by other birds - he knew his band had a small bounty on each of their heads from the Remnants, bonus points for their leader.

Hearing about the Flame family was saddening - he remembered Ignis speaking so fondly of them, and now all that was left was his son. The osprey caught a protective glint in the harriers eye, but disregarded it. He wasn't going to stand there and interrogate the poor bird. Pisces was quite glad when the harrier suggested they moved.

Following the harrier, the Osprey took off after him, spreading his large brown-and-white wings wide as he felt the air sail through his feathers. Looking at the bird ahead of him, Pisces opened his beak to speak, but waited until they landed. Whatever it was he wanted to say, it was clear it troubled him as his eyes were downcast.

He needs to follow his father's legacy.

[Vivosaurus]

The clearing became more and more distinguishable as they headed further south in the forest, until they closed in on it and Flint swooped down towards the pile of boulders. He landed on the ground and led Pisces to a slit in the rocks. Flint walked sideways through it - it was deceptively small, and he actually fit easily. He stepped inside the surprisingly spacious home, which was walled partially by boulders and partially by the ground. Some other animal had lived there some time ago, and had dug a nice nest, perfect to fit Flint's collection of shinies in the corner and the arrangement of firewood in the center. "Come on in," he called as he dropped one of the coals in the fireplace and arranged more sticks and poked it until a warm blaze grew from the inside. There was a vent in the top of the cave - inefficient for letting in light, but perfect for letting out smoke. With a sigh of relief, Flint stretched his wings and settled down by the fire. He always thought better when there was a fire around. "So, how'd you know my dad?"

[Fin]

Pisces was a little bigger than the harrier, and the task of getting in and out of the cave was a little daunting, but he couldn't stand outside all day. As the other bird went inside, Pisces paused at the entrance before sliding in sideways like Flint had done. It was a little easier this way, except his tail feathers squashed against the wall. Practically diving out of the entrance, Pisces was quick to stand up again and ruffle his feathers.

The den was warm, heat radiating from the fire in the middle. As Flint added a coal, the Osprey looked up to where the smoke escaped, rising out of the den and into the sky. His eyes then shifted to the young Flame in-front of him. He knew the task ahead of him - his father was vital to the freeflying birds of the Southern Kingdoms, and without him... well, Pisces couldn't bear to think of it. The only problem at hand was simple: would Flint leave this place? His home?

Settling himself in a similar fashion to the harrier, the Osprey thought about the question posed. "There was once a small forest fire in Silverveil. It never became anything more as it died pretty quickly, but your father was flying around looking for coals. It was the first time I'd seen a collier." The Osprey said, remembering the smoke rising in the distance. It was after his family had been killed, but by then he hadn't thought of what to do with his life. It is true that Ignis was his inspiration.

"I flew over to meet him, find out who he was and what he did and it was fascinating to watch. You colliers have a lot of guts. I heard a cry in the distance - it was a family of little Elf Owls." That chilling sound haunted his thoughts as he recalled it, but he continued, "He directed me to them and let me show him what I could do. He said I had a good heart. It was then I decided to form a band to protect the innocence of our homeland, the Southern Kingdoms." He paused, it was the moment he had been waiting for.

"The Talons of the South. You might have heard of them?"

[Vivosaurus]

Flint nodded in knowing what it must have been like to see his dad hunting for coals. He'd always hopped around his dad's feet whenever he was home, chirping and pleading for a story about colliering. In his mind, he'd always seen his father spreading out his wings wide, talons in front of him, commanding the fire. And when he was finally old enough to tag along, Ignis had not disappointed him. But Flint had also been surprised at his dad's humility - he was always so proud and arrogant when telling stories. And yet, Flint found that he never boasted to the other birds they met.

"I think I remember the story he told us about that - he said it was an enormous forest fire he had to navigate, and he had to fight off five Great Greys to get to them," he said with a chuckle. His dad had been one to exaggerate. It was so odd, the life that Ignis had really led, and the one that Flint had always heard about. He was still trying to wrap his head around it.

"The Talons of the South? Yes, I think I've heard a bit about you guys. I assume you want me to join, follow my father's wingbeats?" he said, with rebellious rejection awaiting in his eyes. In that instant, he looked like a spoiled brat, wanting nothing to do with justice, with making strong the weak, vanquishing evil, or any of that. He was content - maybe not content, but okay - with his lonely, selfish life. At least, he liked to say he was.

[Fin]

A fire blazed hotter than any forge, but the osprey knew it was not in this den. No, it was this young harrier. It actually surprised Pisces to see such an intense look upon the bird's features, but he was used to it by now. Many of his most loyal members had once been sceptical, happy with their lives. Often the osprey would leave, informing them of where he lived, and soon the beating of eager wings came to the entrance of the cave as they asked to join. They say their lives felt emptier having given away such an opportunity.

"The only one who should control your life is you, Flame. These Remnants... their ideals are to control the lives of the Southern Kingdom through fear." The osprey spoke after a moments thought, his eyes looking off towards the smoke escaping the forge again. Turning his attention back to Flint, he continued. "Without you... their lives... well, they just wouldn't be worth living. Your father probably saved hundreds of lives, be it little owlets or the eldest hawk."

Pisces then stood, unfolding his wings a little in an attempt to stretch them. With a lasting-glance to the fire, the Osprey nodded his head to the Harrier, turning to leave. Just as he reached where the first beam of light escaped into the den, he turned his head a little.

"Stay true to yourself, take care." The osprey said before stepping out. He had failed. The hope that sparked in his heart extinguished, a small funnel of smoke rising just like that of his forge.

(You can either have him follow, or skip a few days and come to the headquarters, whatever you want to happen! )