[PRP] Stupid Crow. (My Trouble & Maple Milk)

[Corn]

[imgleft]http://matope.pixel-blueberry.com/image ... lemilk.gif[/imgleft]Up above the waters which limited the movements of terrestrial beasts, a sleek, black shape rested on a branch. With surprisingly intelligent eyes, it watched as the world toiled beneath it. The intermittent sunlight alternated between illuminating its silhouette and framing it on a backdrop of gray as the crow preened. It looked up briefly, looking around again. When it was done enjoying itself, it would find something to bring back to its master, perhaps some small dead thing or fruit... but that wasn't obvious from looking at it, of course.

The only obvious thing, as far as the crow was concerned, was that it was gorgeous.

[imgright]http://matope.pixel-blueberry.com/image ... le_jun.gif[/imgright]Today was monochrome day. The first had been a little songbird, snowy white, with a pale pink beak. (More poetic kimeti might have noted how poignant it was, that the hunter who'd taken its life looked so much like it, small and white, with a rosy flush across her scales and horns. To Vexed, it was Target A, already plucked bare, feathers sorted and pouched.) The second had been a cause of some internal conflict: a mourning dove, just the right size up, and respectably grey - but not entirely, perplexing. The offending sections, however, were merely white and black, ergo a passable entry. To make up for that, however, the third had to be perfect.

It was hard to find perfect. Three hours had passed, and in those hours she had dismissed countless candidates. It could not be just any black bird: the size had to be exact to finish up the trio, the feathers had to be jet, it had to look - to look - to look exactly like that crow perched high, right in her line of sight.

It was magnificent, without a doubt the best she'd seen today - or, perhaps, she'd ever come across. Her heartbeat quickened even as her breath caught in awe. She must have it. Failure was not an option. Carefully selecting the best stone for the job, she rubbed it spotless and lined it up, a few soft clicks in calculation all she needed. The whole time she had not taken her eye off the crow for more than a few seconds, and there it still perched. Not for long. A hoof was swung.

The stone took flight -

[imgleft]http://matope.pixel-blueberry.com/image ... lemilk.gif[/imgleft]- and suddenly the crow wasn't there. It had taken off even as she swung, leaving but one drifting feather in its wake. It cawed harsh laughter at the doe who'd thought to slay it so easily.

Haww, haww, haww.

It turned gently in the warm air, looking for a new place to land. It settled on  a springy kuzdu vine, watching the white doe intently.

"No!" she cried as the feather fell - each one lost from its sleek plumage before she could get her hooves on it was an unmitigated disaster! Only after this burst of panic did the indignation register: most birds stood no chance against her, still or mid-wing - few ever saw the blow coming. Not only did this crow live, it was shedding precious feathers - and - and laughing at her!

...Laughing at her. And now, as it landed a distance away, it...seemed to be waiting for her next move. This, she reflected grimly, is no ordinary crow. What was she to do now? She cast a half-hearted eye at another stone briefly, but if it had sensed her strike with its back turned, she would stand no chance with it staring right at her. What was she to do? She couldn't simply give it up; never, she knew, would she again come across a specimen as supreme as this - and after such a mediocre take as the last bird, too!

Stamping a hoof sharply into the ground, she turned to leave, melting away into the dense foliage.

The crow was confused by this behavior - so otherwise skilled a hunter leaving the chase?

... Unless to return, at an angle of better advantage?

The long hours under its master's harsh tutelage taught it to be continue expecting attack until given reason not to. Taking a calculated risk, it gave another haww... and dove down to the ground, after waiting just a moment on the vine. It made sure to move slightly in the direction of home as well - this hunter was interesting enough to bring home, and dangerous enough that the master might be needed to allay her pursuit.

It took all she had not burst out of the bushes as the crow made its dive - but that would have accomplished nothing...and the unusual deviation of its angle made her wonder. Was it looking towards some secure location? A customary perch? A nest? An area, in other words, where its guard might fall enough for her to strike, once and for all?

Every inch of her body tensed for the chase; once the bird had winged far enough, she would follow - to the ends of the earth if she had to!

[imgleft]http://matope.pixel-blueberry.com/image ... _kitty.gif[/imgleft]The crow waited tensely for an attack that didn't come. After a minute (which might have felt like hours to anyone waiting impatiently in the bushes), the crow hawwed again, confused. The crow abruptly took off in the direction of home; it felt that it had put up with enough bullshit for one day. It traveled with surprising speed, dodging nimbly through the trees, and did not slow until it was home once more, circling anxiously over its master's head, cawwing its woes to the only sympathetic ear it knew.[/color]

That ear belonged to a pale old biddy of a doe, by all appearances quite frail and somehow wicked - her long, coarse hair lay carelessly to one side, her horns and scales were cracked and broken, her tail and ears were in tatters.

In a hoarse voice filled with false sweetness, she crooned to the crow, "Now, now, Mildew, whatever is the matter? Come, settle down now..."

The crow obligingly landed on its master's back, but did not cease its chattering, and looked back in the direction it had come.

FINALLY! Now, now, now! She raced after the bird full-pelt, never taking her eye off as it flew far in the distance before her. The slight trips and stumbles over roots and stones in her way were pushed off, barely noticed as she concentrated entirely on keeping its dark form in her sight. It was not easy, once or twice she'd nearly lost it as it took its weaving flight through the trees overhead - but finally she could see it begin to slow as the path between them closed. Was it home? Had it reached its nest where she could - oh, no.

No no no no! It was owned?!

She may not have been thinking properly, the frustration of the chase may have gotten to her; it was certainly not the kind of thing you should do upon entering another's abode, but for better or worse, as she crashed into the scene, she cried, "Excuse me, may I please kill your bird?!"

The old doe briefly froze, then turned her head - and only her head - to the intruder, looking her over coldly. With great deliberation, she said, "No, you may not,"

Haww.

Either not noticing or not caring about the interloper's breathlessness, she asked, "What in the world would you want to kill my bird, of all possible birds, for?"

Was that a rhetorical question? Vexed shrunk back into herself, unsure, but the older doe's eyes seemed to bore straight into her soul (or skull, at any rate) and make it an imperative.

"W-well…I'm a bird hunter…and it's monochrome day," she started, only half-aware of how ridiculous she sounded, "I started with a white songbird, and then a grey dove," indicating the plucked carcasses on her vine-sling, dangling from their twined feet, "I must have three, and the third must be black, and a proportional increase in size from the last. And the dove wasn't perfect -" biting a black and a white feather out from the vine-tangle that hung off the side of her sling as a pouch, "so the black bird must be. It must be. And your bird - your bird is the most perfect crow I've ever seen. Ever. Such perfect feathers - jet black, so sleek…the glossiest feathers I've ever seen on a bird. It is the only bird in this entire swamp that could possibly - possibly - fulfil my last slot. The only."

Her eyes were more than slightly crazed by now, glazed over with a preternaturally bright sheen from the near-religious fervour she had worked herself into. It was almost certain she saw only the bird and not the biddy - also almost certain she may, in some sense, be quite psychotic.

The elder doe listened to the bird-hunter, first with veiled apathy, but then with growing interest. This kimeti obviously had some issues - but they were systematic issues, predictable - and therefore manipulable. The hag kept her face calm, but the excitement in her heart leapt and danced.

When the hunter finished, she acted sympathetic. "That is quite a problem, young lady," she said. "But I am afraid I am not willing to let you kill my own Mildew, because old Maple does so love her friend Mildew, yes she does," she coos to the unaffected bird in the same sappy gush that animal lovers everywhere use. After a moment of affected consideration, she continues, "Hhhowever, she has laid a clutch of eggs recently. If you were willing to wait, you could have your perfect black bird to kill..."

The hag fixed one beady eye on the troubled doe. "Of course, there is also the question of payment. I'm certain," she bustles right along, "that you are a fair and reasonable doe, who will be willing to pay a fair and reasonable price."

EGGeggeggeggegg... First, she had been relieved when the doe had expressed her sympathy, having half expected a righteous strike upon her for coveting her dear pet's life. Then, against all sense and logic, she could not help but experience a certain crushing disappointment (and panic of sorts - how could she ever adequately fulfil that slot now?) when the her desire was once more denied. But when the magic word was said...

A perfect black bird... Indeed, if the parent was anything to go by, it would be wondrous. And surely it was not a coincidence that...Mildew, the bird was called? had gained her impossibly lustrous feathers under the older doe's care - if she, too, cared for the hatchling to come...feed it the best...let it grow luxuriously plump...oh...those feathers...

"Oh, yes," she said, faintly at first from the unbearable pleasure of her fantasy, then with growing excitement, "Yes. Yes! I will certainly pay!"

How utterly delightful! Agreeing to a contract with a stranger - potentially dangerous, and especially so when with this old doe - with so little forethought! It was really quite fortunate that Maple had the restraint not to cackle in front of the young huntress - that would, no doubt, have aroused some suspicion even in this unseeing filly's mind. Maple, instead, made a show of thinking, looking up at the sky and idly tapping a hoof on the ground.

"Hmm. Well, then," she began, "The first thing I would like, my dear," then, she brought her gaze back down to the young doe, "is to know your name, please? My own is Maple Milk," she finished with a (secretly purposefully) shaky little bow of her front legs.

Might as well dispense with the pleasantries... and know who to ask after if she backs down, the hag thought.

[Corn]

Oh, how rude of her to have barged into this home with such a ridiculous demand without even introducing herself! Luckily the elder doe was so kind; she had feared the worst with the freezing sear of her initial gaze, but instead she had turned out to be the most understanding of kimeti - how nice!

"Please pardon my manners," she earnestly gasped as she quickly returned the bow, "I am My Trouble, but most call me Vexed."

"My Trouble. Vexed. Oh, poor dear, such a sad name," Maple soothed. A very fitting one, as well, she thought, as she is sure to be ever put upon by her compunctions and those who manipulate them. How very easy this would turn out to be! It was almost disappointing... But any deal where Maple could get what she wanted while giving so little was a very good deal indeed.

"All joking aside, dear, the first thing I would ask of you..." she drew the silence out a while, to let the Vexed doe hang, and at last continued, "...is some meat to eat. It has been so long, you know," she sighs, "since I have been able to hunt. I have almost forgotten what it tastes like." She could hunt on her own, of course, but it was easier to earn trust if she acted old and feeble.

She inclined her head not a little sheepishly at the old doe's remark; as names went, there were definitely better...and she did often wish that hers wasn't so...descriptive. But it was a fleeting thought, soon forgotten as she waited with bated breath for the request - oh!

Instantly tugging at the vine twined around the dove's feet, she unwound enough of the sling that she could snap at the legs and pull them free, throwing it across her back before getting to work on the other. "These are freshly caught," she said between birds, "the dove - and a songbird." Losing these two would throw her plans for the day into some disarray, but - oh, think of the reward! These could be made up for, but the beautiful crow's progeny...

Laying the plump little carcasses carefully before the other's hooves, she continued, "I hope they are to your taste. I only hunt the most succulent of birds." And there, she was unable to keep just the barest hint of pride out of her voice.

Maple was a little surprised that Vexed would hand over the birds she had killed that day, but rather pleased all the same. Daintily, she bit into the dove's thigh, and it was indeed delicious. She smiled, her teeth still slightly bloodied. "They are quite suitable, yes," she said smoothly. Maple took another bite, thinking about what else she could get from this doe. An answer immediately came to mind - the sort of answer the taste of blood was wont to inspire her to. But that request might put this off even her determined huntress - better to test the extent of her compulsion first. See how much trouble she was willing to go through.

Looking up once more, Maple said, "the second thing I would ask of you is a number of feathers. I would like the primaries and retrices of a red-tailed hawk and swallow-tailed kite, as well as those of two wood ducks, for use in making charms and spells." Maple set herself down onto the ground, laying with the birds before her. "I anticipate that this will take some time. I will wait here."

Any other doe might have noted that Maple's bloodstained smile seemed, oh, just that slight bit sinister...but Vexed was far beyond such trifles, so close now to her goal -

Or so she'd thought. "A red-tailed hawk, a swallow-tailed kite, and two wood ducks," she repeated, faltering. Well, this might be a little more problematic. She had a spare set of wood duck feathers in her collection, and her red-tailed hawk stash could, though the hole would eat at her for a while, be rather easily replaced...but that would leave another wood duck and the swallow-tailed kite - which would bring the day's total kill to four. Four was not a good number. And as much as she racked her brains, she could not find a common thread through which they could be linked into a coherent set. Such were the bizarre concerns that preoccupied the little doe as she shifted on her hooves, eyes dimmed.

But the crow...oh, the crow... Distracted as she was, her gaze could not help but be drawn to the magnificent bird, glossy feathers gleaming. Ah, she must! She would spend the next few days making up for the sins she was about to commit, it would work it, it had to, she had to get that egg! "Red-tailed hawk, swallow-tailed kite, two wood ducks," she said again, firmly this time, "I'll be back as soon as I can." And she had kicked back out with fire in her eyes into the rolling green.

*******

Many, many hours later, the fire in her eyes had been noticeably extinguished, as she stumbled wearily back into the cave with a bulging pouch. Her coat was no longer pristine - damp, to say the least, dark grime smudged down her limbs; there had been a...complication with the wood duck. On the other hand, three birds hung bare from her vine-sling now...because, well. Five was a better number to end on than four.

"A red-tailed hawk..." she listed, not a little tremulously, sorting the precise feathers out into a neat pile before the older doe, "a swallow-tailed kite...and...two...wood ducks. The most brilliant I could find."

The coming of the pale huntress later that evening roused Maple from her near-sleeping somnolence. The hag's good eye, in contrast to Vexed's weary dullness, veritably sparkled in the creeping gloom. This doe was willing to go to great lengths indeed for her prize, for the day's work had obviously been hard. the feathers, she was pleasantly surprised to note, did not show any sign off the trials the doe must have gone through - they were clean, bright, and pretty.

Affecting once more her exterior of care (as she had been as long as the doe was in sight), Maple voiced her admiration - "Ah, how lovely they are! How clean and straight and vibrant!" Gently, and with great care, Maple stacked them tidily enough to please her guest and stored them far back enough in her den that the wind would not disturb them. She rather fancied the black of the Kite's feathers, and thought she would wear them soon enough. As she returned, she said, "Ah, and where are my manners? Do please sit and rest, if you wish, make yourself at home. There is a clear stream over yonder if you would like to drink -" or bathe, she thought but did not say as she lay back down, creaking - "and fruit and greens enough nearby to sup on, or to pair with your birds if you planned on those."

The compliments the older doe dropped on her hard work swelled her pride, and as she watched their careful keeping gladly, her gaze was no longer as lifeless. "Oh, thank you!" the lilt had returned to her voice by the time the invitation was proffered, and she hurried to the stream most thankfully. A quick drink, yes, but more importantly, she could not abide the mud on her coat for long - how she hated hunting waterfowl sometimes! The meticulous cleaning of her fur occupied her, then, slowly, creeping thoughts of her impending reward. Between one and the other, she had quite, quite forgotten about her weariness - or, indeed, day-long hunger - and sprung out of the water at the end of her bath eager to conclude her quest.

"Is there anything else you might like in return for the egg?" she asked, most earnestly.

The question made Maple smile again. Even unbloodied, it was slightly sinister. And she asks so easily, she thought, what the last is. How can I not answer as easily in turn? So, she decided she would cut straight to the point. No more testing - this doe had proven she was quite willing to do anything for this egg.

"There is but one more thing I would ask," she said from the shadows of the cave, voice still sweet and gentle. "I would have you bring me a buck, young and lithe, to bed with."

"Ex...cuse me?" she said faintly. Young and lithe...to bed with?! "A...buck?"

For the first time in her very long day, Vexed got the distinct feeling that she might be in over her head.

A - a buck?! She was supposed to go out there and find a buck?! A-and then, what could she tell him?! There's a very nice doe...I think she may be twice your age, but she's very nice andshewouldliketobedyou. She didn't know the first thing about bucks - she knew about birds, that was about it - but she rather suspected that most bucks would just look at her like she was mad...and then run away. Ohhhhh she had never even been with a buck before, herself, how on earth could you broach a topic like that? The closest she had ever come was that open-stage confession to Carrot Flower at the festival, but she hadn't quite been in her right mind then - she was never going to dip into Mirebeat and Walks-Between's wares again, that was for sure...and since she'd never heard from Carrot Flower after that, well, it couldn't have been the right way to go about things. A buck! To bring back here! What - how could she - would she have to...lie? Trick him, somehow? Wouldn't that be wrong?

The panicked, tumbling stream of protestations hurtling through her mind, she still stood there, swaying slightly, somewhat in shock.

She could see Vexed's rising panic, and thought at first that the best way to keep her to task would be to remain calm herself. "Yes," Maple confirmed, "a buck. For a pretty young thing such as yourself, it should be an easy manner to meet and court one," she explained, with the same sweet tone, as though it were the most natural thing in the world. "Then you simply say that you with to bring him to your den, and bring him here, and in the darkness we switch places." However, seeing as Vexed remained unsettled, Maple was beginning to think that simply smoothing it over wasn't going to work out so well...

"We switch places?" her voice was lost and small - and not a little afraid, "so I - I would have to trick him? I don't know..." It was wrong, she knew it was wrong. "I'm - I'm not sure I can..."

"I, however, am," Maple said, inwardly rolling her eyes. "It can't be any harder than hunting birds." For the moment, she maintained the gently supportive voice she'd been using the whole day. She didn't want to have to use her loud and commanding voice - she was sure that switching her act like that would scare Vexed off pretty quickly - but, by god, she would if the girl showed any more undue hesitation!

Birds. As the word rolled off the old doe's tongue, it jolted Vexed back to herself. That was how she got into this mess, oh yes. Oh yes. And how she wanted that egg! Her eyes flickered, for the briefest moment, to the beautiful crow... All that she'd already done for that egg. Just this - just this one thing left...but...still... "Isn't...isn't there anything else that I could do for you?" A last game try.

"No," she said more coldly and stiffly than before, but she was able to restrain herself form completely losing it. So close, so close. Patience, Maple! "My final request has been made. Bring me a buck, and the bargain will be complete, and you will get your reward."

Bring me a buck, and the bargain will be complete, and you will get your reward. Just this. Just this one thing, and she would get her egg. Just this one thing. What, she reminded herself, could be more important than the most beautiful bird in the world? Certainly not some buck. Nope. Not in the least. Get a grip, Vexed - this is all you have to do.

"Alright." Past the heady pounding of blood in her ears, her voice sounded to herself like it had come from a far, far way off. But she had said it. And now she would do it.

...continued in Single White Female Seeks Buck...