Immortal Darkness: Shadow Across the Land (32 page)

“What? What’s going on?” Sahemawia wondered
while scratching the back of her head

“Have you noticed that there’s a new breed of
both owls and humans?” Ulpheir asked in response.

For the first time in what seemed like a
generation, a spark of fear appeared in Ulpheir’s eyes. It wasn’t
so much of a spark, thought Sahemawia, as it was a tear. A tear
seemed to be developing within Ulpheir’s eye. Was he on the brink
of weeping?

Sahemawia knew Ulpheir for usually letting
complicated situations slip his mind. However—for this one time—the
look in Ulpheir’s eyes suggested he was feeling more troubled than
ever before.

Although it was clear to Sahemawia how her
mate was going through a time of trouble, she found it odd why this
new breed of owls and humans bothered him.

A confused look appeared on her face when she
asked Ulpheir, “Okay—so there’s a new breed of owls and humans?”
Unlike Ulpheir, she showed no fear in her eyes—but rather did
wonder appear in t hem.

Another awkward pause of silence came into
place before Ulpheir continued, “I don’t know if they’re really a
new
species of owls and humans or not. All I know for sure
is that I’ve never seen anything like them. The owls are gray and
tiny while the humans are tall and white.”

“Anyway,” Ulpheir murmured with a sigh, “it’s
not so much as the owls that I’m afraid of; it is the humans who
worry me.”

“Why just the humans?” Sahemawia pointed out
through a question. “What’ve they done to make themselves look
worse than the owls?”

“You’ll think it sounds crazy,” Ulpheir
muttered. “But these new humans have a habit of cutting trees down.
What’s even worse is they’re heading our way!”

It was instantly after hearing these words
when Sahemawia stared into Ulpheir’s cold eyes, her beak dropping
wide open. That spark she had earlier seen in Ulpheir’s eyes now
showed in her own.

“B-but that means that they could come here
next, and destroy every tree in sight!” she stammered, fighting the
urge to draw tears.

As a small series of Sahemawia’s sobbing
echoed throughout the hollow, Leyoht walked up toward the bottom of
the tree’s trunk. He took no notice of the sobbing when he called
out, “Father—I’m ready to come in!”

The sound of Leyoht’s voice caused both
Sahemawia and Ulpheir to flinch in surprise.

Oh no!
Ulpheir silently cursed just
before allowing a growl to escape from his beak. It was all the
while when Sahemawia struggled to quiet herself down, brushing
small rivers of tears from her eyes.

Ulpheir placed a neutral look upon his face
as he made his way toward the hollow’s entrance. “Alright!” he
called out, his wings extending as he readied himself for flight. A
large gust of air blasted underneath Ulpheir’s wings—and before he
knew it, he was flying down to his son.

Almost as if he were about to pounce down on
a rodent, Ulpheir’s talons snatched around Leyoht’s shoulders. Of
course, after the pounce came the kill—which was something Ulpheir
would have never done to his own son. It was after skipping the
killing step when he pulled Leyoht up into the air.

Gravity pulled down on Leyoht’s feathers as
the wind pushed him once more. This sensation caused him to yearn
for the day when he himself would finally learn how to fly on his
own.
How does father do it?
he silently wondered while
taking a close look at Ulpheir’s outstretched wings.

A soothing wave of heat pressed up against
Leyoht’s skin when his talons suddenly touched the hollow’s floor.
He had barely even seen it coming—and he almost tripped as a
result! Such a feeling made him want to snuggle up next to his
mother.

Sahemawia asked of her son while wiping the
last of her tears, “So—it wasn’t very fun out there?”

“No,” Leyoht replied, shaking his head. A
sense of woe seemed to sprout from his voice.

The sound of shredding filled the hollow when
Leyoht continued, “Nobody was outside—so it was boring out there.
What made it even worse was that it was so cold out there!” It was
while uttering the word
cold
when Leyoht wrapped his wings
around himself and shivered.

Sahemawia released a happy—yet unpleased
chuckle. Unfortunately for her, Leyoht stared straight through her
laughter and caught sight of her hidden depression. Seeing the
fearful glint within her eye, he placed a confused look on his face
when he asked, “What’s wrong?”

A small bolt of fear and surprise leaped into
Sahemawia’s mind at the sound of these words. It was while
desperately attempting to hold back the urge of stuttering when she
asked, “Wh-what do you mean?”

“You’re acting sad,” her son pointed out. A
pause of silence came into place when Leyoht repeated, “What’s
wrong?”

“Nothing!” Sahemawia snapped. It was then
when she took a stand, towering over Leyoht. “Stop asking!” The
whole room met silence. Releasing a sigh, Sahemawia sat back down,
a spark of guilt lighting within her stomach.

Now slightly afraid of his mother, Leyoht
turned a look over to his father—who was pulling out some food for
himself. Leyoht took the risk of causing even more infuriation
between his family when he asked, “Can I go back outside?”

“What?” Ulpheir haughtily responded as he
flipped his gaze onto his son. He quickly came to realize how he
had snapped at Leyoht in the same way as Sahemawia. Feeling guilty
of his mistake, he corrected himself by replying, “Oh—okay.”

Fighting against a wave of impatience,
Ulpheir placed his lemming on the floor and walked up to his son. A
heartbeat of silence slipped into place before he swiftly wrapped
his talons around Leyoht’s shoulders for the last time in what he
hoped would be a while.

This is very uncomfortable,
Leyoht
thought. The owlet felt as his father’s talons scratched against
his skin.

Resisting the urge to let out a yelp of pain,
Leyoht braced himself for impact. Fortunately for him, most of the
impact carried upon his feet—rather than his face—when Ulpheir
carried him down to the ground.

Once his son’s feet met up with the snowy
ground once again, Ulpheir immediately hopped off Leyoht’s
shoulders and landed in a snowy spot directly in front of his
son.

His feet implanted into this one little area,
he bent down—bending further and further until his beak remained
barely any distance from the top of Leyoht’s head. “Do you promise
that you’ll stay out here
longer
than you did last time?”
the impatient father murmured.

“Yes,” Leyoht assured through a smile and a
quick nod of his head.

“Alright,” Ulpheir responded, tipping his
body up in an erect position. It was then when he lifted his wings
up into the air and blasted himself up toward the hollow. In the
process of heading back up into the tree, he curtly called out,
“And make sure that I won’t have to pick you up after a really
short time—again!”

Each word shocking to Leyoht’s heart, the
owlet watched as his father swept back into the hollow. It was
while taking sight of this scene when he silently assured,
I
will
.

These two silent words floated in Leyoht’s
head like clouds. His ears vibrated when Roseti’s voice rang out to
him, crying, “Leyoht! Hi!”

Pleasantly surprised to hear his friend,
Leyoht flipped his gaze over toward the source of her voice. Upon
doing so, he came to realize Roseti was waving at him from what
seemed to be the edge of the horizon.

The sight of her face clouding his vision,
Leyoht lifted his wing, submitting a friendly wave in response.
Such an action boomed the start of what would soon be a very
exciting day for Leyoht.

From that point on, Leyoht would only ask to
come inside if he were hungry. Sadly, such a day came to its end
when Leyoht asked for his last meal for the day—the meal which came
just before his slow nodding to sleep.

--

As images of the day slowly drifted past
Leyoht’s mind, Ulpheir and Sahemawia were kept wide awake with
thoughts of the new owl and human species. What would these
creatures do to them? Were they hostile or hospitable?

Besides the thoughts of the new humans and
owls, the two concerned parents heard as a bone-chilling blizzard
brushed along the fibers of their tree. Wind and ice sent a chilly
bite down the tree’s hollow spine—intoxicating it with freezing
temperatures all the while.

Hearing as this gift of nature battered their
home, thoughts of the mysterious new creatures drifted from the
owls’ minds. The storm had been enough to make them forget. Soon
they were all asleep.

That was before the sound of thunder’s clap
split Leyoht’s ears. He woke up with a start—and much to his
surprise, his parents were still sound asleep.
At least it can’t
get any louder,
he silently assured himself as he released a
huge yawn.

Such a silent statement was false; there were
plenty of louder noises, he just hadn’t heard them before. He
hadn’t any idea what the rupture of a volcano sounds like, or what
noise a falling tree made. Leyoht hadn’t any idea—and therefore he
didn’t have any right to make such a false statement.

As he struggled at his attempts to find
sleep, Leyoht heard as a deafening, chucking noise shook his home
by its roots. Only three of these shakes brought an abrupt
disappearance to Leyoht’s patience.

“What’s going on?” he snapped, picking
himself up on his feet.

Startled by the sound of their son’s anger,
both Sahemawia and Ulpheir both awakened, finding themselves in a
frustrated mood.

Not even giving Ulpheir the chance to speak,
Sahemawia asked with bleary eyes, “Leyoht—what are you doing?”

Trying to answer his mother, Leyoht opened
his beak—only to interrupted when the scent of smoke replaced the
hollow’s fresh air. Smog clogged and blocked the owls’ lungs,
allowing a series of coughing to escape from his beak. “What
is
this?” he hacked in question.

As both of his parents started coughing,
Sahemawia covered her beak with a wing and responded, “I’ve smelled
this before!”

“There must be a fire nearby!” Ulpheir
explained, his head low to the ground. Barely a single moment of
silence had come into place when he called out, “Leyoht! Do as I’m
doing!”

Opening his stinging eyes, Leyoht continued
to cough when he took a look at his father. Although his vision
remained obscured by the smoke, he was able to take notice of a
small cloud of fresh air near the bottom of his feet. As a flame of
understanding lit up in Leyoht’s mind, he instantly dunked his head
low enough for him to breathe.

“Sahemawia!” Ulpheir called out with his head
still low to the ground. “I’m going to go out there and see what’s
going on!”

“I’m coming with you,” Sahemawia insisted as
she moved over to the tree’s opening.

Witnessing as his parents left him in the
smoky hollow, Leyoht started to panic. “Wait! Don’t go!” he
instinctively demanded.

Unsure of what had happened to his parents,
he shot a look over at their nest. In the nest was a white egg—the
very one his mother had been protecting for the past few days.

At least there’s
something
I can
do,
Leyoht told himself, reaching a talon out for the egg.
Mother told me that the egg will die if it’s not kept warm. If
neither of my parents can do it, then I’ll have to do it.

A slight imbalance in his footing came as he
drew nearer and nearer to the egg. The egg was maybe the size of
his chest, but he had to do something to save it!

Things took a negative turn when another
shake spread into the hollow. There Leyoht stood on one leg, the
other outstretched toward his unborn sibling. Feeling as imbalance
took over his stance, the panicked owlet ultimately toppled over
his mother’s egg.

While falling, a gasp of fear escaped from
Leyoht’s beak—only to be replaced by the sound of cracking.
Following these noises, he noticed as a rather sticky substance
clung to the bottom of his chest’s feathers.
Oh no!
he
thought.

Picking himself up on his feet, Leyoht closed
his eyes and told himself he was experiencing a nightmare. It had
to have been a nightmare! On heaven or on hell, there was no way he
could have killed his own sibling.

It was then when he opened his eyes, catching
sight of a small blob of gunk in the nest.
Did—did I kill
it?
he wondered one last time.

Before he could have found the answer, yet
another
imbalance came beneath his feet, catching him off
guard. But this one was different—stronger than all the others, in
fact; strong enough to tip the entire tree over into the sheet of
snow.

Leyoht fell into the nest, his head spinning.
What was once a wall was now a floor. An enormous thump shook
throughout the ground as Leyoht’s head slammed against what he had
first thought was a wall.

My parents,
he wondered,
what
happened to them?
Hoping to find the answers to his question,
he picked himself up on his feet, almost completely forgetting
about the crushed mess of what was once an egg. Now he had to find
the hollow’s exit.
But where is it?
he asked himself.

Looking left and right, tried to find the
exit—but couldn’t see where it was. It wasn’t until taking a look
up when finally his eyes caught the opening.
There it is!
he
exclaimed.
Now how do I get through it? If only I could
fly!

These thoughts in mind, the flightless owl
began to flap his wings in a repetitive motion. He flapped and
flapped and flapped, futilely hoping to gain upwards
acceleration.

Unfortunately, the momentum he could have
made was a tiny push off of his feet. He panted—then tried again
several times before finally surrendering to his fatigue. Leyoht
murmured through a series of panting, “I—I can’t do it!”