Episode Eight

P’rao adjusted his angle and dropped like a stone until his talons just hovered over the wispy grasses. He flexed his claws and twisted to see Meech on his right, just now descending to a skimming altitude. Beyond his friend, the green wall that marked the edge of safe territory loomed. Glossy leaves waved, snapping like deadly flags and gleaming in the low sunlight.

Death waited just inside, and it meant to spread if they let it.

His claws tightened, snagging a tuft of errant grass and ripping the twisty roots free from their territory. He liked that sound. It reminded him that the plains were free and safe to his people. It reminded him that they had a hand in keeping things that way.

Meech tore at his own tufts, and they filled their claws with the strands until they could hold no more. When they angled up, the two milkers left a clean swath of dirt in their wake, a long strip of fresh border to keep the Master plants out.

P’rao cawed and lifted into the warmer rays. He fluffed at the shoulder and enjoyed the warmth alongside his small triumph. They weren’t actual milkers just yet, more like juniors in training, but their horizon was as bright as the desert behind them. Eventually, they’d brave the jungles with the rest of their kind.

And what would Tr’lia think of that?

He clicked his beak and snapped his long flight feathers, banking sharply toward the baskets where the grasses were collected. Once they’d been safely uprooted, the aeries had many uses for the sparse fibers—not the least of which was nest building.

Meech was right, damn it. He had mating on the brain. Mating and a bright yellow breast that might not relish the idea of him sneaking into Master plant territory.

“You missed, idiot!” Meech squeaked at his shoulder. “You dropped that load back on the ground.”

“Huh?” Prao twisted his neck around and spied his mistake. The cart minder already pecked at his lost strands, stuffing them into the basket and murmuring curses in his direction. “Ooops.”

“I can’t imagine what distracted you.” Meech waited for him to bristle, and when he refused added softly, “or who.”

The stork at the cart bounced on long legs and clapped at them, but P’rao angled again, circled wide and then dove in for another pass along the border. He flattened his quills tight and streaked far enough ahead of Meech that he didn’t have to hear his friend’s grumbling.

His second pass ended with both his fists overflowing with grass. He’d stretched his claws a bit, but this time, the fibers ended up neatly where they belonged, the cart minder ignored his delivery and Meech kept his beak shut.

The grasses always invaded first. Invisible roots wriggled out from the jungles, hidden beneath the hard-packed plain and only bursting into view when their sub structure was well established. They opened the way for the higher ups, for the plants that could use their nodes and pathways to organize, to plan a more significant advance.

A bare border was a safe one, and P’rao dove again with his resolve set even more firmly. They kept the plants at bay. They trimmed to borders, and eventually they’d brave the long flights over the jungle, the dangerous missions into the heart of Plant territory to retrieve medicines, fruits and seed for domestication and controlled food production.

Their lives depended on this much. All their lives and any future he might hope for. He made two more passes to Meech’s one and then tucked wing and dropped behind the line of carts for a drink and a moment’s rest.

The grass carts filled slowly. This stretch of boundary had been weeded only a few weeks prior. Their team had been assigned for maintenance more than anything, but still they found spiky grasses wandering into their world.

 P’rao drank from the minders’ buckets, leaned against the back of one cart and watched the Rhino beetle in the traces of another shift its weight from one leg to the next. It’s gigantic, domed carapace shimmered like the distant leaves. Emerald green, metallic and harmless compared to the foliage it resembled. Even with the heavy horn protruding from the beast’s head.

Meech landed between them, his dust puffs blocking out any further view of the draft beetle. P’rao ignored his grimace, the nasty clacking of his friend’s beak. He let his gaze drift instead out toward the jungle in the distance. The green wall shimmered in the sunlight, but just then, something about the way the fronds moved spoke of more than hot air and unreliable vision.

He stood up and craned to see better, bouncing and arching his wings for takeoff.

“Where are you…” Meech started a question, but the words died as quickly as P’rao’s intended flight.

The both froze and listened to the jungle howl. The cart minders stopped fidgeting. The flights still in the air banked away from the green swath, from the wall that trembled and danced now, screaming and hissing at them in the frenzied speech of many joined plant minds. A wave rolled across the leaves, down the horizon in one serpentine ripple. The scream rose in volume, and the foliage broke at the top.

One, giant green orb lifted from the canopy. It snaked straight up on a fat stalk lined with wispy hairs. The cranium twisted, turned left and right and then focused on their position. Even at this distance, P’rao judged just that head to be four times his size, at the very least. The sight of it set his plumage spiking. His beak ground together at the same instance the Master plant opened its huge, sticky maw and howled its fury to the sky.

NEXT EPISODE

Episode Seven

She tugged on a bit of grass, and the strands parted from the mat, pulling free. Tr’lia held the smaller bit in her beak and hopped two bounces to the right. The fiber had cost her the rest of her festival money, and it wasn’t very good quality at that, but it would do for a start. She used her clawed toes to twist the strands and then poked with her beak so that the tight end joined the weaving she’d already begun on the cave floor.

She’d never made a nest before.

It looked awful, just a clump of half-twisted, dry old grass half as big as it should be for the time it had taken. Tr’lia sighed and pulled at a corner. The bottom needed to be the stoutest, even though she planned to add a good deal more fibers to its construction to hide the rugged beginnings. Her nest would need a firm foundation if she meant it to last. She tucked and tweaked and fiddled with the last bit before bouncing back to the fiber bundle. More layers might do it. More depth, and then it needed to be a lot bigger—big enough for two someday.

She stabbed the pillow again and clicked around, feeling for a stouter blade, a reed that might reinforce her nest’s bottom. A squeak from the cave mouth stalled her probing and brought her up sputtering. Lili. It was only a matter of time.

“Hello,” Tr’lia ignored the puffed up blue ball of indignation in her doorway. She turned back to her next selection and waited.

“Your. You.”

She felt a thicker stalk and snapped it up. Eureka, the blade had a woody, rounded stem, and pulled out a good two spans longer than the rest. Strong floor material.

“Yourmothersaidyouwerenesting!”

“Oh.” Tr’lia nearly dropped the blade for chuckling. “That. Right.” She hopped to the nest and tucked the thick end into one side. Long enough to criss-cross the bit she’d already woven at least. She wouldn’t have to undo it and start over, though she might need to trade for something extra pretty to hide it.

“And?” Lili recovered and hopped into the cave interior. The space barely held both of them. Starter caves were meant to be cozy. “Does your mother know why?”

“Shush, Lili.” She stood up too fast and pulled out the last two loops of grass. “You promised to keep that quiet.”

“I know.”

“Good.”

“Weren’t you even going to tell me?” Lili’s feathers smoothed, halving her bulk, and she shuffled her feet against the stone floor.

“Of course. I just wanted to have something to show you first.”

“Is that it?”

“It’s harder than it looks.” Tr’lia sighed and worked the tail of the grass into the weave. “And I’ll hide most of this with feathers. It just has to be strong.”

“I can’t believe your mother let you start.” Lili pressed forward and examined the nest's beginnings, head turned sharply to one side and beak grinding together softly.

“It’s only a little bit early. They’ve had the cave since my hatching day.”

“Mine too. It’s nice, Tr’lia.”

“It’s really small.”

“Mine’s smaller.” Lili clattered her beak and bobbed her head forward and back. “I’d better find a tiny little man.”

The cave warbled with laughter. Tr’lia tried to eye her work critically, but it blurred a bit around the edges. She’d always thought Lili would nest first. It just seemed like a Lili sort of thing, nesting. She sighed and shifted her weight to the other foot. It was only a little bit early.

“You know,” Lili said. “I have some ribbons saved. There’s too much to use in one place. You could have a little bit for the sides or around the top.”

“Thanks, Lili.”

“Maybe I’ll start one soon too.”

“Hopefully yours will weave a little better. Look at that bubble.”

“It’s nice, Tr’lia.”

It wasn’t. Still, she’d only just started. Building the nest would keep her busy, keep her mind from thinking of killer plants and long-distance romance. She fluffed and shook the tension off. He’d said he was coming back. He’d said he’d find a way to see her. She looked at Lili through a rain of dislodged down and tried not to panic.

And if P’rao did return, at least she could have something here for him to come back to. She snagged a bit of fluff from mid-air and waved it at Lili.

“Help me grab this. We can use it to cover up the bottom.”

                                                                            Next Episode

Episode Six

P’rao waited for them under the bleachers. Tr’lia landed on the highest perch, three beats before Lili’s impact rattled the dried timbers. She saw him twist his neck up, caught the flash of green in the shadows.

He had a glow bug lantern, but shielded it with his wing so that this corner of the arena remained nearly pitch black, lit only by a few distant stars and the thin slip of the small moon. Trl’ia saw him though, before the light dimmed beneath his mantle, and she felt the look as if it were a warm updraft.

“Wait here, Lili. Keep an eye out.” Tr’lia hopped from the stands. She heard Lili’s protest, but ignored the clacking and kept her eyes riveted on the valley floor. He waited just there, and so she’d land gracefully right about here.

The dust puffed a bit more than she planned, but in the low light, who would see if her tail was a bit fouled? She straightened her neck into a tall curve and tilted her head to one side, fixing a single eye on the darkness where she knew he stood.

“Hello, Tr’lia.” He hopped out so fast she stumbled back a step. Even so, he ended up very close beside her.

“H—hello.” Her beak rattled, and she grabbed the bare ground with her claws to steady her nerves. “I. Your friend delivered your message, P’rao.” They’d never been actually introduced, and his name felt risky, like the bravest thing she’d ever said.

“Meech didn’t think you would come.” His wing twitched aside, letting the glow bugs light a circle around them. Her sash gleamed against his breast, under his milker’s vest. It linked them, somehow, that strip of her feathers against his. He slid one step back under the bleachers, and Tr’lia followed.

“Why did you want to see me?” She lowered her voice, took slow, small steps for each of his long ones. Still, they stood in the protection of the structure before she had time to think.

“Tr’lia,” Lili hissed overhead. “I can’t see you!”

“I wanted to see you again.” He ruffled, and his crest curled forward. “I just. It felt.”

“I know.” She’d felt it to, hadn’t she, that tremor of something larger in the market square, the sense of fate hanging over?

“The festival is almost finished.”

“Yes.” They only had one day of closing events before the booths would come down, the wood recycled or stored like the precious thing it was, saved for the next need. “Tomorrow.”

“I have to leave in the morning.”

“Huh?”

It came out louder than she imagined, and his crest slicked back down. He bobbled from foot to foot. Tomorrow. What could possibly be the point, if he was just up and leaving?

“I have a job at the edge the day after.”

“I see. Of course.”

“I want to see you again, Tr’lia.”

He’d barely seen her this time. Still, the idea warmed her enough to set her cheeks puffing. She shifted her weight from side to side, twisted her neck and thought about it.

“I’ll find a way to get back here between jobs.”

Milking jobs. That’s what he meant. He planned on going out into the jungle, into the thick, plant-infested strip along the border of their plain. He might easily not survive it.

“Is it very dangerous?” She hated how her voice trembled.

“Oh, it’s not too bad.” He purred it, smoothed the danger from the idea, but she knew it was. Of course it was.  When he hopped close to her side, Tr’lia leaned into him. “It would be better knowing I had something to fly back to.”

“Yes. I imagine it would.”

“Do you want me to?”

“Come back?”

“Yes.”

“Yes.”

Lili screeched down from the rafters, but her words flew wide. Tr’lia couldn’t hear a thing over her own heartbeat. A low breeze swirled around them, lifting the dust and a few stray bits of litter that danced down toward the market aisles.

P’rao slipped closer. Their wings brushed at the shoulder, and she let out a long breath. His neck curled. His beak clicked once and then ran a line along her neck feathers, ruffling them and sending trembles all the way to her little clawed toes. She warbled, way back in her throat, and heard P’rao’s answer, felt it vibrate in the air.

“Tr’lia!” Lili plopped to the ground beside the bleachers. Dust heaved into the air, blocking them long enough for P’rao to run his wingtip under hers, to stroke her side before sliding back a step. “Where are you? Someone is coming.”

“Here.” Her voice had little breath behind it. “I’m here, Lili, I’m fine.”

“Someone is…ooo!”

A second impact followed, and a scrabbling of claws and shadows. Tr’lia heard an “oof,” and Lili’s squeaking, but the dust swirled thickly now, and P’rao’s wing settled over her back. He pulled her farther into the shelter and hopped to block her from the ruckus.

“Lili!” She still had less voice than she’d hoped for.

“Take that!” Lili screeched and beat her wings at whoever had had the misfortune of startling her.

“Oof.”

“Meech?”

“Help!”

P’rao laughed, and Lili’s wings paused, still raised and ready to wallop the intruder. The dust settled leisurely, revealing a hunched over Meech, protecting his head with one wing and nearly kissing the dry ground. “Call her off!” He blinked against the rain of dirt and clattered his bill. “Someone shackle this harpy.”

Thump. Lili’s wing landed in his back. Tr’lia flinched as the poor cock toppled to his side, legs kicking.

“Stop it, Lili!” She brushed past P’rao and sidestepped into the open. The glow bugs came out again, making the dust a sheet that veiled the scene.
Lili’s blue feathers caked with the stuff. Her eyes blinked twice, “He called me a harpy!”

“Terribly rude of you, Meech,” P’rao chirped. He sounded far too tickled about poor Meech’s abused state. “You should apologize.”

“Me! She attacked me.”

“You landed on top of me!” Lili hopped into the air for emphasis.

“I didn’t.”

“Shhhhh.” P’rao mantled and hunkered down, swaying and stepping forward at the same time. The threat worked. Both Lili and Meech shut up long enough for the latter to flip back over and stumble to his feet.

Tr’lia chuckled and scuttled to P’rao’s side.

“Tr’lia,” Lili lowered her wings and sagged into a pout. “You look like a puff ball.” She squinted suspiciously at her feathers. They still prickled in all directions from P’rao’s attentions. “We should go before we get in trouble.”

 Go. The thought alone brought her plumage back to a normal state. She shivered against the next breeze, despite the warmth rising from the plain. He’d be gone in the morning.

“Tr’lia!” Lili whined, and hopped in place. Her nerves had just about failed. She’d be bolting to tattle next.

“Yeah. We should go.”

P’rao turned to face her, blocking them out and tilting his green head to one side. He warbled again, soft and just for her. She hopped forward, heard Lili’s clicking as his wings wrapped her in a quick embrace. His beak found her neck feathers again, nibbled at them once before he released her.

“Well,” Meech said. “So.”

P’rao backed away. He kept his eyes on her, though, “I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

Tr’lia could only nod. She held her breath as Meech bounced into the air. P’rao only hesitated a second before launching. His down stroke lifted the dust again, but not enough to block out his parting look.

“Oh, my…”

“Don’t say it, Lili.” She sighed and watched the dark shapes drift away. “Just don’t say a thing.”

Next Episode

Episode Five

She pressed her red bag higher up under her wing and hopped sideways toward the cave opening. From the side passage, the low whistle of her father snoring echoed against stone walls. The tunnels made him sound larger, more menacing than a squat sparrow with one gimpy wing.

Tr’lia held her breath and fought the urge to grind her beak. She’d wear the edge uneven, ruin her smile if she didn’t break the habit. Her nerves cared little for cosmetics. Her clawed toes scuffed the floor, flexing for a purchase and trying to keep silent in the process.

Two more hops would bring her to the mouth of their home. Beyond the irregular oval, an indigo sky sparkled with diamond stars. Shadows passed in the distance; some of the festivities still continued well into the wee hours, but they would be the more private kind—the kind her parents wouldn’t approve of.

She scuffed, and hopped again, and felt an cool eddy of night air swirling. Her claws flexed against the stone. The feathers on her cheeks puffed, and she sidled to the lip.

The wall of the aerie stood like a fortress against the plain. Their home opened out about three-fourths of the way up, just above the huge entrance to the flock’s secondary gathering cave. Tonight, no cackles sounded from below, however. Tr’lia could guess why. All the gathering was happening out on the festival grounds.

She grasped the very edge of the cave floor and peered down at the dance of glimmer and shadow. The booths all hung with billowing drapes, covered and waiting for dawn to break. The fabric rippled. She could see the movement, even from up here, and it spoke of crisp temperatures, moist air leaking off the distant jungles. The jungles where he worked.

A shiver wiggled from her scaly knees up to her wingtips. She ground her beak together and hugged the bag—and the scrolled message inside—closer. Her legs flexed and she pushed off, spreading her wings and catching the heat rising from the sun-soaked earth.

It buffered her. She shot up, streaking past cave mouths until the top of the plateau passed and the whole world spread below. The lights of glow insects dotted the grounds ahead, tiny now and barely moving.  Still, some revelers were about. A large cluster of lights shone at one end of the long arena. A few smaller ones centered on the open space in the heart of their makeshift market.

Tr’lia twitched her right wing and banked to the side, diving at the same time. The note had said the eastern end. He’d said to meet her there, opposite where the crowds were, where they’d be alone. Her back riffled and she wobbled in the dive, leveling out and making like an arrow toward dark end of the arena. Alone…with a milker.

She angled lower and felt the rush of air, the sweep of velocity across her feathers. Her mother would kill her if she knew.

A shadow crossed directly in front of her. Tr’lia squeaked and banked sharply away. She just knew, for one terrified breath, that her mother had found her, that her life was about to end. Instead, it was Lili’s voice that broke through her pounding heartbeats. It was Lili’s fat silhouette that joined formation at her right shoulder.

“Are you insane?”

“Go back to bed, Lili.”

“You can’t go alone, Tr’lia. What if he’s a creep?”

“Lili.”

“What if he kills you and drags you off to the Plants.”

“If I’m dead, I hardly think I’d mind.”

“You can’t go alone.”

She heard Lili’s beak click, and the sound soothed her nerves. She’d been half a wing-beat shy of chickening out as it was. With Lili along, nothing bad could happen—except Lili.

“All right, then. You come with me.”

“What?”

“Come on. You can keep an eye on us and if he does anything scary, go for help.”

“But.”

“I don’t want to end up in the jungle, after all.”

“Right.”

It was brilliant, actually. Lili could chaperone, and by coming along, she’d share the guilt for sneaking out. If she’d been tempted to tattle before, the fear of her own punishment should snuff the urge sufficiently. Besides, she’d be glad for the backup. Just in case.

“Down there.” Tr’lia snapped her own beak, loud and mostly to ease the nervous flutter in her craw. She didn’t wait for an answer, just dipped her bill toward the arena and dove straight for the meeting she’d waited the whole festival for. Tonight, with the dark stretch rising rapidly to meet her, she almost pulled up. She almost turned tail and flew straight back to her own perch.

It would have been the safe thing to do, but then, the safe thing didn’t include milkers at all.

Next Episode

Episode Four

A triangle formation swooped low over their perch. Tr’lia twisted her neck and arched back to examine the players. Not one of them had a shiny green head.

Beside her, Lili crunched a trio of jeweled crickets. Her bill snapped as she pulled each bug from the stick they’d been roasted on, and her eyes flicked between bites down to their table ring where the remainder of their weaving shimmered in the setting sunlight.

The festival only had two days left.

“Do you want this one?” Lili offered the stick and the last cricket, but Tr’lia shook her head.

“Go ahead. I’m still full of mushroom.” They’d eaten more fungus this week than she usually had in a month. “Who won today?”

“Northern Gulls.”

“Again?”

“The falcon squad from South Aerie almost had them, but one of their point’s was disqualified.”

“Oh.” Tr’lia shifted her weight to the other foot and tucked the tired one up into her downy belly. “did you see--.”

“No. Not today.” Lili rolled her eyes and downed the last bug. “Nor yesterday either. He wasn’t that cute Tr’lia.”

But he was. Not that she expected Lili to understand. Since that first meeting, Tr’lia hadn’t been able to think of anything but the milker. She considered it a bit disloyal that Lili could be so rude about it, but her friend’s patience had never exactly overflowed.

“Well, we’re almost sold out.”

“You can take tomorrow off if you want,” Lili tried. “Go wander around and see if you can find him.”

“I can’t do that.”

“Why not?’

“Because.” She sighed and fluffed her chest feathers. Her wings flapped a little with her mood. “It would look too desperate, Lili. If he wanted to see me again, he would have come by.”

“Stupid.” Lili hopped down from the perch, shaking the wood enough she had to put down both feet to cling to it. “He probably is working too.”

“Well he could have found a way.”

“Maybe.” Lili scuffed behind the booth, stirring up dust that they’d have to brush off the sashes later. “I don’t get why it’s so important. You don’t even know him. If you want to see him again, go find him.”

“Ha!” Tr’lia dropped down and went to work cleaning up Lili’s mess. The more she wiped, however, the more her friend’s pacing erased her efforts. “Stop fidgeting, Lili! You’re getting it all filthy.”

“And you’re being grouchy. Maybe they left already, Tr’lia. He’s a milker anyway. He was probably just messing with you, and you’re spoiling the festival for nothing!”

“What? Spoiling the—what?” She spun to face her little blue friend, and sent an even bigger cloud of dust across their wares. “I’m spoiling the festival?”

“Yes.” Lili held her ground. She puffed up, even though she stood only chest high, and stared up at Tr’lia without flinching. “We’ve been waiting for this forever, Tr’lia, and you’ve been pouting the whole time!”

“But. I.” Tr’lia felt her gullet tighten. She felt tears pooling, and ground her beak together to stall them. “You don’t understand.”

“I do too.” Lili deflated. Her feathers settled, though she didn’t exactly back down. “I do. But I don’t know how to make him come back, Tr’lia. And I want to enjoy this!” She swept one wing in an arc, over the table and smack into a black breast.

“Ooof.” It’s owner grunted and staggered back.

“Ooops.” Lili chirped.

The milker recovered and brushed at his vest. He had white bars on his wings, the grass vest, and the attitude, but his head was black and crestless. Tr’lia dropped her beak and brushed at the bags and sashes.

“Where’s your friend?” Lili blurted.

“Um.

“Lili!” Tr’lia’s cheeks blossomed.

“He’s working.” The milker said. “We’ve been swamped, couldn’t get away even for a second. P’rao tried, but it’s been crazy.” He reached into his vest and pulled out a scroll. “He hired me to send you this.”

“Why didn’t he just bring it himself?” Lili fluffed up again.

“Hush, Lili.” Tr’lia stared at the scroll and imagined what it said.

“One of us had to keep delivering, and he couldn’t hire himself.” He waved the roll of skin. “Don’t you want it?”

She nodded, but her wings wouldn’t work. In the end, Lili snatched it for her, glowering at P’rao’s friend until he took a step back.

“Thank you.” Tr’lia found her voice. She snagged the scroll from Lili before she could do any more damage. “Tell him thank you.”

“Just show up,” the milker said. He spread his wings and twisted his head to one side. “He’s driving me crazy.”

They watched him launch. His down stroke caked their wares in dust again, but Tr’lia hardly cared. She held the scroll between her wingtips and followed the milker’s flight until he dropped down between the booths and out of sight. P’rao. Her feathers trembled, nearly dropped the message.

Lili wasn’t having any of it. “Well,” she said.

“Well what?”

“Aren’t you going to read it?”

“What do you think it says?”

“I don’t know.” Lili shrugged and leaned against the counter. “But it better be good or I’m going to find that stupid milker and pluck him.”

“Lili!” Tr’lia laughed despite her nerves. The scroll felt heavy. It made everything suddenly very real and scary, but Lili wouldn’t wait much longer. She took a deep breath and pried the thing open.

Next Episode

Episode Three

P’rao flicked his tail and stamped one, clawed foot into the dust. Overhead, a gaggle of long-necked shoppers blotted out the sun, honking to one another as they passed each table and barely missing a collision with one of the vendors perched over his wares. The idiots were too excited to watch where they flew—like most of the birds flocking through the festival.

“Meech!” He twisted his green neck round and eyed his friend over one wing. “Hurry up with that one. It’s getting late.”

“There will probably be six more messages when we get back.” Meech tucked the coins they’d earned delivering this one into his interior vest pocket. “Everyone’s got someone they want to natter at today.”

“Right.” P’rao ground his bill together, scraping top against bottom until he saw Meech cringe. “But maybe the next one will be closer.”

“Uff.” Meech shook his black head and fluffed his breast feathers. “Not the chick again.”

P’rao snapped his beak with a clack and flashed his friend a glare before launching from the festival grounds. His wings snagged an updraft, and he beat them hard enough to send a flurry of dust directly into Meech’s face.  Of course it was the chick again. They’d been delivering messages all over the enormous grounds, and he hadn’t managed to squeeze in a break or even a chance to get close enough to catch her eye again.

Tr’lia. He scanned the ground below and got his bearings before angling back toward the perch where they’d set up shop. He wore her feathers across his breast, a slash of yellow, green and red that reminded him exactly how brightly she shone.

“P’rao!” Meech drifted up beside him, dust still staining his normally-perfect black plumage. “I don’t get what’s the matter with you, but I hope you get over it soon.”

“I’ll pay you back, Meech.” They’d already made back what he’d spent on the sash, but half of that belonged to Meech anyway. Still, the festival didn’t officially start till tomorrow. He’d be able to pay for the sash three times over and still have money for them to play with. “Let it go.”

“It’s not like you, getting nutsy over a hen. Not like you haven’t seen a pretty colored chest before.”

“She’s different.”

“Ha!”

P’rao spotted their perch. It stood alone, without a table, and Meech had draped a sign from the center that proclaimed their messenger service. The idea had been brilliant, and P’rao wished he could claim it, but this time, Meech got the credit. Who would have guessed the festival patrons and vendors would swarm them with messages even before the event got rolling? They had three customers waiting already, lined up at the base of the pole and fluffing their impatience.

“It’s not like you got time for nesting,” Meech kept at it. “Unless you plan to give up milking and start growing ‘shrooms.”

“Not.” He snapped and dove for their stand.

“Well a girl like that’s not gonna want anything to do with the likes of us.”

P’rao grabbed the cross beam and leaned back against his momentum. He mantled his wings and felt Meech impact beside him. Three bright faces turned up to note their arrival. Customers. Maybe one of the deliveries would be close to her.

“You can’t be sure of that, Meech.” He fluffed and shook off the dust. “Maybe she’s different.”

“Right.” Meech didn’t sound convinced. He dropped toward the ground, laughing. “And maybe I’ll take a break and go lay an egg.”

P’rao sighed. He looked out over the perches and watched the shadows of shoppers darken and lighten the world as they passed. The sash hugged his chest, and he ran a wingtip over the silken feathers. Maybe she was different.

Next Episode

Episode Two

"Plants!" LiLi scoffed for the twentieth time. "He's selling plants, here!" She nibbled on her bit of roast fungus and clucked furiously.

"They're cut off from the nodes, LiLi," Tr'lia said with more calm than she felt. "They're probably harmless. Otherwise, they wouldn't have let him bring them in." She took a bite of her own 'shroom. "These are good."

They'd bought the fungi from the booth next door after laying out all their crafts. The smell of mushrooms roasting had been too much for either girl to resist. Now both sat clutching the rickety perch over their stall, watching with awe as the number of booths spread across the plain continued to grow.

"We'll never have time to see it all," Tr'lia commented.

"We will if we sell out fast." LiLi still insisted that they’d make sales early. It would be nice, to sell enough that they could enjoy the festival in style, but Tr'lia couldn’t see it happening today.

"They're just looking today." She motioned to yet another group of passing shadows. "They want to see everything before they buy."

LiLi clucked to herself, resenting Tr'lia's logic. She turned her head toward the distant camps and managed to remain silent for about thirty seconds.

"Look!" she shouted, hopping up and nearly tumbling Tr'lia from the perch. "They're practicing for the games!" In the distance, the formations could be seen flying their maneuvers against the orange-pink sky. They swooped and dove as one, nearly touching, then scattering into some other pattern.

"They'll save the really fancy stuff for the contests."

"I know that." LiLi didn't turn away from the horizon and the shapes flying there.

Tr'lia checked below them again, eying the lines of feathered bags and sashes critically. The rows were straight, and the feathers shone beautifully in the sun. Still, she couldn't resist the impulse to hop down into the booth, to tidy up the lines just a touch.

She was smoothing out the feathers on her favorite bag--made from cast-offs she'd traded from the healer's wife--when LiLi settled in a puff beside her.

"Don't look now," LiLi whispered.

"Where? What?"

"Don't look over there." LiLi had her head lowered. She nodded across the market aisle, toward the pet booth. "They're watching you."

"Who?" Tr'lia looked despite the warning.

"I said don't look!"

Two young cocks leaned against the counter where the rows of cages sat. They were slim and tall and wore vests of woven grasses over their arching breasts. Both had feathers of slick black with white stripes along their wing edges, but the taller of the two had a brilliant green head topped with a slim, pointed crest. It curled backwards over his shoulders. They both stared in Tr'lia's direction.

"Who are they?" Tr'lia dropped her gaze and played at inspecting the bag again.

"They're milkers!" LiLi clicked her beak disapprovingly. "Look at their vests."

"You said don't look." But Tr'lia could see LiLi sneaking peeks in the men's direction and couldn't resist another look.

Plant milkers. The thought caused her scaled knees to tremble. You had to be crazy or suicidal to be a milker. She cast another quick glance in their direction. They were young; maybe they just wanted to look like milkers. She imagined it would seem daring to brave the forests. And the milkers did supply the flocks with chemicals for the healers' medicines. She shook her head. They were too young--too young to wrangle plants.

They were probably posing as milkers to impress people. They probably worked for a chemist and saw a lot of the milkers come and go. Maybe they bartered for the vests, or made them themselves.

"They're coming over here!" LiLi burst in on her musing. Her voice whistled through a clenched beak. "Tr'lia!"

"Shhh. Settle down, LiLi, maybe they'll buy something."

"Didn't you see the way he was looking at you?"

"Shut up, LiLi." Tr'lia couldn't help wondering which he LiLi referred to. She smoothed the red-feathered bag and forced herself to breath very slowly.

"Hiee." The deep voice rolled across their counter. LiLi squeaked. The milkers stood opposite them, shining in the sun and smiling.

"Hello," Tr'lia said. The crested one stared at her in a way that made her cheek feathers want to puff in embarrassment. She turned away quickly.

"Nice feathers," he said.

Shocked, she turned back to find him admiring the red bag. "Oh, right." Her cheeks puffed despite her efforts. "It's made from our healer's feathers."

"It's pretty." He leaned on the counter, raising his eyes to her face with deliberate leisure.

Maybe he is a milker, Tr'lia thought. Something about the way he moved reeked of confidence, and the vest looked pretty authentic close up. He was older than she'd thought too, and his eyes looked right into you.

"It's thirty five." LiLi, forever-practical LiLi, interrupted. "And that one's twenty." She pointed to the sash the other milker fondled.

Green head ignored her. He clicked his beak softly and pointed to another bag. "What about that one?"

"That one is from LiLi's mother," Tr'lia said.

"It's twenty also," LiLi added.

"It's lovely," Green head said politely. "Don't you make any with your own feathers?" Tr'lia's recalcitrant cheeks puffed again. Her voice failed her.

"This one is hers," LiLi blurted. She offered him the sash Tr'lia had made after her last molt. Ignoring Tr'lia's pleading look she added, "It's seventy five," quoting double what they'd priced the sash.

Tr'lia wanted to strangle her. She wanted to rip the sash from Green head's grip and take quick flight for the nearest cave. She wanted him to stop running his long, black wingtip over the sash. Her tail twitched.

He stroked the wide yellow middle, woven from her breast feathers. He turned the sash, eyed the green border and peeked up at her matching wings. He lifted the end and admired the red fringe she'd woven from the feathers of her head. Tr'lia prayed for death.

"What's your name?" he asked.

"What?" Tr'lia tore her gaze from the sash.

"Her name's Tr'lia," LiLi said.

"How old are you," Green head smiled at her and cradled her sash.

"Sixteen seasons," Tr'lia said. The feathers along her back stood up slightly.

"You'll be nesting soon." He bobbed his head and the curling crest raised just a touch. Tr'lia could hear LiLi's horrified clucking, but it seemed far away.

"Yes," she answered him.

"Seventy five, was it?"

"Yes."

"I'll take it."

***

"Tr'lia dear, are you well?" LiLi's mother asked. A sweet hen, who looked like a puffed up version of LiLi, she had agreed to help the girls with the booth during the festival. Now she perched over them, peering down on occasion between bouts of preening. "You're so quiet today."

"She's mooning over a plant milker," LiLi said. Her mother just missed their first, and only, sale of the day.

"I am NOT," Tr'lia straightened her legs and leaned over LiLi. She glared down at her.

"Oh no, dear," LiLi's mom clucked. "What would your poor mother say?"

"I'm not mooning," Tr'lia insisted. What would her mother say? Her mother would go into a full-blown molt over it.

"Why don't you girls go look around? Have some fun before you get too busy."

"Good idea," LiLi chirped.

Tr'lia had split the sash money with her, and she sensed LiLi was dying to spend it. They left the booth and wandered along the aisle together. LiLi cooed over the wares and inhaled the scent of fungus cooking with a hungry glint in her eye. She nudged Tr'lia's wing.

"Stop looking for that milker, Tr'lia. Let's get another 'shroom."

"I wasn't," Tr'lia said. "I want to go see the pets." She headed across the aisle without acknowledging LiLi's sulk. The pet vendor hunched up on his perch with his head tucked under one wing.

"Tr'lia!" LiLi sang behind her. "I'm hungry!"

The plants were not on the counter. Tr'lia eyed the sleeping vendor and cleared her throat.

"Tr'lia, no." LiLi slid up beside her. "Your mother will kill you."

"I'll have my own nest soon."

"But you don't yet."

"Hush, LiLi. I'll buy you a mushroom."

LiLi pouted, but stopped protesting and looked at the cages of insects. Tr'lia cleared her throat again, and then clicked her beak sharply.

"Ho HO!" the vendor cried. His head snaked its way from under the grimy wing and swiveled to look at them. "Back again."

"May I see the plants again?"

"No Tr'lia," LiLi whined.

"Shush, LiLi."

The vendor plopped behind the counter and retrieved the tray of glass domes.

"Your mother--"

"Hush." Tr'lia eyed the plants and tilted her head from side to side. They had a lot of teeth. "I'd like to make a purchase," she said.

***

"When your mother kills you, can I have that bag?" LiLi asked.

"Shut up, LiLi." Tr'lia hugged the red-feathered bag to her side. The leaflet on plant keeping lay safely hidden within. "She's not going to kill me."

"Wanna bet?" LiLi took an enormous bite of her 'shroom.

"They're only Bluebottles," Tr'lia said, raising the mesh cylinder to the light. The three flies flashed blue and pink in the afternoon glow. "She won't mind so much."

"But you bought that book."

"Be quiet about it, LiLi. You hear me?" Tr'lia hugged the bag closer. The rotten vender had charged her almost as much for the leaflet as she'd paid for the flies.

"If she finds it, she'll go into a molt."

"She won't find it." Tr'lia scanned the market crowd, hoping for a flash of green. She tucked the container of flies into the bag and smiled. "Besides," she said. "I'll be nesting soon."

Next Episode

Episode One

"Hurry up, Tr'lia!" LiLi sang over her shoulder as she hopped through the market's wide aisles. Her clawed feet stirred little puffs of dust as they scrabbled for purchase. "Come on!"

"I'm coming." Tr'lia sighed. She clutched the netted bundle of wares more tightly in her green wings and increased her pace. Her friend's feathered back bobbled between the rows of booths like a fat, blue cloud. Tr'lia smiled and suppressed a chuckle. Who could blame LiLi for being excited? "The festival doesn't start for two days, LiLi," she called. "We won't sell anything today."

"They're already shopping!" LiLi hopped higher and flapped her short wings for emphasis. She was hurtling forward again before she hit the ground. Her little fantail twitched, an arc of blue, as she landed and continued her hustle.

Tr'lia shifted the bundle's weight again and followed her friend. She flipped her own long tail feathers higher above the dust and kept after LiLi. Occasionally a shadow would pass over, the silhouette of some early shopper looking to see what the bazaar had to promise. Tr'lia wanted to see as much as they did, but LiLi would not be deterred. She tried in vain to catch a glimpse or two of the wares in the booths as they ran past.

The festival had come to their aerie at last. Her feathers ruffled at the thought. Flocks would be arriving from the farthest reaches of the desert to trade, to compete in the games, and to show off for one another. The plain below their cliff homes already teemed with the camps of visitors, strange visitors, and their wares already filled the makeshift booths of the bazaar.

LiLi put distance between them as Tr'lia's mind wandered from their task. The booths to either side of her demanded attention. She saw ropes twined from dried grasses, grasses that had been diligently cleared from the Flocks' territories to prevent the Plants gaining any purchase here. She saw carved stone bowls, bone utensils and armor crafted from the exoskeletons of the giant insect herds.

She saw the vendors. They perched above their goods in plumages of impossible variety, and Tr'lia wanted to see them all.

"Tr'lia!" LiLi chastised from far ahead.

"I'm coming." Tr'lia snapped. LiLi had no bundle to carry. Her wings were too short for much labor, and it fell upon Tr'lia to heft their year's work to the stall. "Don't get into a molt over it!"

The friends had worked all year together, trading babysitting and odd jobs for cast-off feathers. They'd spent long evenings twining and weaving and perfecting their crafts, all for today--all for the chance to be included in the festivities. LiLi was right to be in a hurry.

Tr'lia stood a dozen strides from their booth when she saw the pet vendor. LiLi perched over their tables, flapping at her and churning up clouds of dust, beckoning for her to get a move on. But the pet vendor's booth seemed more enticing and far more exotic. Tr'lia's scaled legs slowed. She cast an eye over the spread of mesh cages and listened to the buzz of wings inside.

She stopped. She shifted her netted bundle to one yellow hip and examined the little cages. Three bluebottle flies skittered around inside a small, mesh cylinder. Their exoskeletons gleamed iridescent below the continual buzzing of their translucent wings. Another case held an emerald beetle the size of Tr'lia's fist. It hissed and waved its long horn at her when she peered closer.

"Ho, HO!" a voice from above called. "A pet enthusiast, a connoisseur!"

Tr'lia looked to the perch above the stall. The crimson sky faded into peach as dawn spread over the market. The light cast a pink glow around the fat vendor that stared down at her. His feathers would have been lovely, had they been clean. Obviously not big on preening, their owner had let them fade into a mish-mash of dingy hues. Tr'lia identified reds, browns and purples through the grime.

"Hello," she said.

"And a good morning to you, my dear!" The man shouted, and a crooked crest rose in an arc over his brow. "A little shopping, on a fine day, yes?"

"Yes. No," she answered. "I'm vending today."

"And so you are, so you are." The vendor launched from his perch so suddenly that Tr'lia took a step back. He landed in a plump plop behind his table-ring of pets.

He shook himself, ruffling his plumage and dislodging a small flurry of down in the process. "But these are lovely, no?" He pointed one long sharp tip feather at the three bluebottles.

"Yes," Tr'lia said politely. "They are."

"Yes! And quite unusual, no? Quite unique."

"I've seen some before," she said. "A traveling vendor brought some last winter."

"Oh NO!" The dirty man was taken aback. "Surely not like these," he protested.

"Bluebottle flies." Tr'lia continued quickly. "They are lovely."

The pet vendor just harrumphed at her and reached below the counter. He pulled out a tray of slender glass domes and set it down next to the flies. "And what about these?" Triumph and something of a dare shone in his black eyes. "I suppose you've seen these as well?"

"No--no." Tr'lia shook her head and stared at the domes. Her feet trembled and begged to back away from the stall. The feathers on her neck rose a little against her will. Inside each perfect glass container grew a bright green plant. Each shiny stem arched upwards, terminating in a bulbous, toothy green mouth. Sticky goo collected between the lips. "Where did, where did you get those?" she whispered.

"Ha Ho!" the man sang. His crest stood so high it nearly straightened. "You haven't seen these before."

"No," Tr'lia eyed the glass suspiciously, as if it might shatter at any moment and release the horrid things. "Aren't they dangerous?"

"Certainly so!" the vendor sang happily. "But for the brave, the skilled keeper, a true treat!" He reached under the counter again, and she braced herself for his next revelation. All he produced, however, was a stack of thin leaflets. He held one out to her, bobbing his head rapidly. The leaflet read: The Captive Care of Plant Species.

"Tr'lia!" She heard LiLi's voice, frantic and moving in their direction.

"No." Tr'lia shook her head, refusing the proffered leaflet. "I have to go." She twisted her head and looked over one shoulder. LiLi waddled across the dirt aisle and she looked far less than happy. If she saw the plants, well, Tr'lia didn't want to deal with an irate LiLi all afternoon. "Thank you," she told the old vendor without looking back in his direction. "Goodbye."

***

Next Episode

Introducing the RAWK universe...

Old William bent forward on his smooth rock seat and peered at the ring of faces. His cheek feathers puffed in a blue cloud around his fat beak. A circle of wide eyes regarded him from the cave floor. Multi-colored crests lifted in anticipation of his next words. He let them stew for a second, tapped one talloned foot against the dusty floor, and stared at each chick in turn.
“Time was,” he said and sat back abruptly. The children shivered. “Time was when the whole surface of the world was choked with plants.” He nodded as his audience twitched in horror. “Our flocks lived in small pockets, high in the rock cliffs, and always in fear of the encroaching plants.” William paused, and nodded at the group.

The older chicks, the one’s who had heard the tale before, leaned forward. The little ones hugged themselves and clicked their beaks softly.
“Before the wide plains were cleared, we cowered in small groups and prayed for safety. A brave few ventured forth to collect the things we needed. Some never returned. Many were taken to the Plant pens and never seen again.”
A few of the chicks looked to be in danger of crying. Old William changed his pitch, let awe and hope enter his words.
“Then the Rocs came,” he said. “From where, we’ll never know, but one morning, they flew out of the East, on wings as wide as this cave mouth. Their feathers gleamed in the light of the sun. And hope flew with them.”

* * * *

Welcome to the RAWK universe. A few years ago, a group of inspired authors belonging to the Moses Lake Muses writing group undertook an exercise in world building. Through the chat that ensued, the planet, Rawk, orbited into existence. Here was a world overrun by insidious and highly intelligent plant life, by giant Venus Flytraps who used their root system and 'nodes' to control the rest of the vegetation--and who had an insatiable appetite for flesh.

The shy, but tenacious denizens of Rawk, the great flocks of birds who lived in constant fear of the Plants, told us their tales. They spoke of the time when the grasses butted right up to their cliff aeries and the Plants nearly held dominion. They whispered of the ones who went missing, who now, possibly, lived imprisoned by the Plants, providing a constant, domestic food source for Rawk's wicked masters. They told us of the mushroom growers, the healers and chemists, and the brave milkers who venture into the wild jungles, risking their lives to procure the juices needed to make medicine. The showed us the mighty herds of insects that roamed their deserts.

They shared their festivals with us, the great annual gatherings for trade, games and mating.

In short, they enchanted us with the wonders and possibilities of their world. Each of us left that discussion with a mind full of stories to be told. This one, Much Ado About Bluebottles, is mine. I hope you find it entertaining, and I hope you seek out other stories, or help me encourage more to be written, by the talented authors that shared RAWK's creation with me.

~ Frances Pauli

First Episode