..:Dusana Island ~ The Aerie :..

part 1: Drachmet the Outdoorsman

Drachmet came around the bend, cresting another ridge. He wiped his brow as he looked out over the great expanse. The valley before him was actually much higher in altitude than the plains of his homeland, but this view was breathtaking in another way. Blue-green evergreen and flame-hued deciduous trees stretched from one craggy rim to the next, east to west. Above the highest peaks stretched another, inverted bowl, of such a rich shade of light blue to almost appear violet. The periwinkle sky was tickled with wispy cirrus clouds, the trees draped in gauzy mist. He'd been up since dawn, breaking camp and heading out as the first tangerine rays of sunlight had kissed the treetops. Now it was midmorning, and though the sun was slowly dissolving the morning fog, the breeze had that chill nip that foretold the coming of winter.

A jade-and-white streak passed his face, and the explorer jumped back a second later. Following his winged companion flew another, composed of blues and greys. The surprise washed free of his expression; he was not entirely used to these antics displayed by his pair of Alis Gryphs. Their plumage was still mottled and scraggly in places, but their skill in flight approached expert-level. Yet, much like a parent, he could still hardly believe they had grown so quickly. Had he really been out here in the wilderness, away from civilization, for so long? What had occurred two seasons ago seemed like days.

* * *

It was still early in the year, chilly yet but with a hint of the fragrant, wet smell of the season to come. He had come upon a small string of jagged, jutting cliffs one overcast day, when he came upon an Alis Gryph nest with a pair of hatchlings inside, downy and creeling with hunger. He watched for several minutes before moving on with a chuckle to himself. To stay longer would have kept their parents away.

He stopped some distance off, taking note of his surroundings. As always, he kept a visual diary, full more of illustrations and diagrams than written narration. On its pages he recorded his findings on this stretch of land. Any hope of habitation was unlikely unless extensive excavation of the caves occurred, and many could support no larger than a family of flitters. Moreover, it appeared that the creek flowing nearby would flood the short plain surrounding the cliffs during the upcoming springtime.

By the time he was finished the day had far advanced. Drachmet proceeded down a goat trail toward the creek featured in his diary. The sweet water was a welcome sight for one with a parched throat. Near the streambed he left his large pack, then stepped down the shallow decline to the waterside. Small water insects skittered out of the way as he dipped his water skin into the chilly, glacier-fed water.

He sighed with pleasure as he splashed water on his face, then on impulse stripped his feet of socks and boots, rolled up his trousers, and waded up to his calves. With the spring melt, current was beginning to swell the banks. Tiny fish and aquatic arthropods nibbled at his toes, river rocks bruised his heels, and algae made progression difficult, but the little extra freedom of movement was worth it.

Investigating the area, he decided that this would be an excellent place to camp. The ground was rocky, but the rocks along the water's edge were smooth. The earth was firm, and would serve as adequate to anchor tent stakes, even though the trees overhead would most likely provide more than enough shelter. The trees themselves were marvelous to look at, each supporting its own miniature ecosystem of mosses, lichen, and fungus. Hopefully there would be no biting insects to make his night miserable, though it was still early enough in the season to assume they would not.

There was adequate firewood to be found near his chosen as he wandered off a ways, he came across the carcass of a small animal about the size of a Chizatsa or domesticated cat. Ever the scientist, he frowned curiously. Further study revealed the remains to be that of an Alis Gryph, and not just any but the very same variety as the nestlings he had beheld earlier in the day. Then, not ten paces further in the brush he noticed the body of another Alis Gryph and evidence of a struggle. In the failing light it appeared that the pair had been fighting another predator (or predators) for a meal. Perhaps a zaryn or several lacestrade?

"Not good," he muttered in a cracked voice seldom used. Whatever it was had killed the only means those chicks had had for survival, assuming they were still alive! There was no telling whether that other predator would have found the nest by now or not.

With a glance at the sky he estimated about half an hour of light left if he hurried. By the time he returned, he knew it would be full-dark down by the stream, but there was no help for that. His compassion for the world around him would not let him rest until he knew for sure the fate of those defenseless little kits.

* * *

The events that followed had taken place months ago, yet they were still etched freshly in his mind, like a week-old proclamation of love carved into the trunk of a tree. The climb over terrain that was tricky under midday sun, trying to find his way to the exact outcropping that had sheltered the nest, easing his way down to scoop up the kits and hide them within his jacket without dropping their squirming, biting, clawing little bodies…all of that he would never forget. Nor afterward when they finally calmed down, comfortably safe and warm, digging their little claws into his ribs accidentally as they made themselves comfortable, and then back at camp when he learned the extent of their hunger when trying to feed them shreds of meat with his bare hands…

Malachai and Whisper image © Neishai
Drachmet's pair of Alis Gryphs, image sketched and scanned then edited in MS Paint.

He watched the adolescent pair of Alis Gryphs, his constant, most treasured companions, as they frolicked in the air, sunshine glinting off of feather and fur. Perhaps they could sense the early change of season from Autumn to Winter, like many animals can. Or perhaps trying to squeeze the last carefree days out of their youth, for within the next few weeks the most they could look forward to was Hard Winter and the close of their first year of life.

Because he was still young, he hoped for an early Thaw once again this coming year. Because he was not ruled by faith alone, he had thought ahead. Just beyond that valley with it's blanket of color and the distant ridge he now faced, lay the fabled Ice High Aerie, where he hoped to spend the next half-year. After that, well, who knew what the future could bring!

By the end of the week, he would start to explore a different world from any he knew, honeycombed within the granite walls of the awesome mountain…an adventure that would change his whole perspective on life.