Strange sights

[Anonymous]

Running, tearing down the streets and swerving away from every new obstacle in his path, Grey Feather panted desperately, trying to get enough space to open his wings. Yet each time, something new would appear, or the dogs would get too close, and he'd have to flee again. His breath was already coming in gasps, and his chest was heaving as he tucked in his forelegs and sprinted to a stand-still. He'd turned one too many times, and now a wall, a very solid wall, stood between him and safety. He creeled softly, heart beat loud in his ears as the dogs stopped their barking and started to close in. Grey Feather didn't like this anymore than he had when he'd first woken up to scratching at the top of his little shelter.

Backing away, he fluffled up his thick fur and rustled his wings along his back, hoping that something might send the beasts away. Size alone wouldn't do it, since he'd been running for some time and was slightly smaller than any one of them anyhow. Stretching out his wings, he brushed the walls on either side long before they were fully extended, and then his tail, sweeping slowly from side to side in his worry, hit the back wall and he couldn't go any farther. Grey Feather shrank back, still trying to regain his wind, though he was pleased to see that his pursuers were struggling too. His eyes lit up the narrow alleyway as they shifted from their fearful pink to a terrified orange, and a high pitched keening rose in the back of his throat. Trapped! Caught and hunted, and he couldn't climb the walls either, he knew that because he'd already tried earlier. The pitch went higher, gaining in volume the closer the dogs came, but they were still leery of this new creature, and took a few surprised steps back when he hissed and bared needle-like teeth.

[Anonymous]

Being too alert to sleep the daughter of the village idiot decided to write something. Being the daughter of a village idiot, writing skills did not come easily to her. She would more likely fool off the chair if she tried.

Fiona poised the pen and dipped it in the ink. As she did the well fell over and spilled onto the page. Damn her father's hopeless genes. She picked up a hankerchief in the attempt to wash it but as she pulled she reaslised that there was another one tied to the end. Knowing where this was going she continued pulling on the end of the handerchief until a long enough rope of the things was available to wipe up the mess.

Not wanting to give up her persuit of writing she picked up a charcoal pencil. The lead snapped and she went to pick up the knife to sharpen it. Knives are always bad to have around village idiots but she kept one near to try and prove the theory wrong. So far today she had dropped the thing on her foot twice, had it "slip" out of her belt and cut off her skirt and not to mention the imbarressing conversation with the owner of a bar she had been kicked out of as to why he had found the knife with a sheepskin hanging form it an inch above his head. He had not been impressed.

She sharpened the pencil very carefully as there was a knock on the door. The bookshelf (which strangly had been empty of books a minute ago) toppled and several books fell on her head as she tried to call for the knocker to enter. What came out of her mouth was this:

'Come eeouch'
'Excuse me miss, the village is calling again. They are asking for thier idiot back,' said the amused innkeeper while trying not to laugh. Everybody laughs around Fiona, things just seemd more funny when things happened to her.
'Thankyou, she said tersly, rubbing her sore head as motre unseen books fell on her head.
In many cases this would be considered humourous or even insulting but this was Fiona, she was used to these types of call ins. The villagers of several towns were on the lookout for her and her 'remarkable' talents as a fool.

Her father had loved the job, it had been the only job he had ever known. The joob was meant to be passed down form father to son but there had been a foolish error in the conception which had resulted in a girl. Every fool knows that their oldest child will always be a son but her father had been so foolish to even mix that up, how is anybodies guess. The result was Fiona, a female fool with no wish to be one.

Fiona pondered on the situation, something very hard for a person with foolish genes. If she left now in the dark she would probably end up bumping into some unsavoury character and due to a sequence of humiliating events would have to explain her way out of some kings sock drawers. If she waited until morning the villagers downstairs wouldhave found out her room and be fully rested. They would argue there way though a rather foolish spectical of Fiona humiliating herself, once again, ending in the whole darn pub roaring in laughter at her misfortune. She would then have yet another royal, travelling gypsy or perhaps a gaol in need of her. Not the best way to start in a new town.

She sighed as she decided the window was the best way to go. She packed the only book she owned (the rest had now dissapeared) as well as her quill and other belongings. Some how her panties were stuck to the bed: best not tempt fate. She climbed out the window with the help of the hankerchief rope and slipped away into the night.

It is easy to guess what type of person she bumped into. She had already known what would happen.

'Oh shit, now what?' She got up to see a strange thing with wings had broken her fall. for some reason it was being chased by large dogs.

[Anonymous]

Having come to the conclusion that desperate times called for desperate measures, Grey Feather had decided to simply be as scary as he could, and add a few things into the bargain. He was already as scared as he could get, and being backed into a corner tended to make him more angry than not, besides, he was tired of being scared... And if that dog got any closer he'd be its lunch for sure!

Flinching away from the bared fangs and snapping jaws, the young kinta lashed out with a forepaw, claws fully extended and landed a blow on the end of the creature's muzzle. With a yelp, the dog backed away, giving Grey Feather the second he needed to take a deep breath, think of the scariest image he could and jump forward. As he did, he bared his teeth, opened his wings as far as he could in the small space and sent the image of a very large, very angry tunnel worm. It was worth the try if they got confused from the double pictures they were getting. And it was working too, the dogs were backing away, their growls becoming lower, more defensive than aggressive and... And....

Oof! With a startled squawk, Grey Feather toppled forward, victim to his own momentum and something that had miraculously appeared behind him from out of a solid wall. His jaw hit the ground with a hard thud and he stayed as he was for a moment, dazed by this strange turn of events, that, and the hard smack he'd just gotten from gravity. Pulling himself together, Grey Feather sat up slowly, shaking his head and untangling his limbs from their disarray. When he could sit still without swaying, he blinked a few times, then took a quick analysis of his situation. Nothing bad had happened to him yet, those big dogs were gone, thank the stars, and whoever had come up behind him didn't seem intent on hurting him. But who, or what, had?

Raising himself up on his hindlegs, the kinta stretched his back and spun slowly around, shuffling so as not to overbalance his recuperating equilibrium. What he saw was a little surprising, but less frightening than the dogs, for all she didn't have sharp teeth. Grey Feather dropped back to all fours, stretching out his short neck to sniff at the human before him. His glowing eyes lit her well, and cast dark shadows at the wall behind her, but she didn't seem dangerous, in fact, she appeared to be frightened of him. He snorted at such a thought, then backed carefully away until he could see most of her without having to crane his neck backwards too much and sat again, curling his tail up over his paws and settling his grey wings more comfortably against his back. Then he chirped enquiringly and tilted his head. What to do now?

[Anonymous]

Fiona watched the thing watching her. It did not attact but chirped and tilted its head.

She scowled, being unaccostumed to laughing, 'I suppose can't talk but I thank you far catching my fall. I am Fiona.'

She looked up at the window, there was a creak at the door she was in so she slid as close to the bricks under the window sill. She put her hands to her back and realised she had left her pack in the room. She cursed silently and sank to the floor. She needed to find a place to hide, a change of clothes and... get that rediculous hat of the creatures head.

A jesterring hat had magically appeared on the winged creature's head so she pulled it off, tore it up and stamped it in the mud. She would NOT allow such sillieness to occur.

Fiona looked once more at the creature. It was like none she had ever seen and she had travelled a fair portion of the continent. She supposed it was worth an attempt talking to it. Being an animal, it probably wouldn't respond but it was worth a try.

'Greetings, who are you and do you speak this langauge?'