The Key to the Future
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A bluish-green speckled egg sat in a nest in the middle of a sparsely decorated hut. The egg shook as the chick inside fought to break free.
Kali watched with bated breath as her first chick hatched from its hard-shelled prison.
The village shaman acted as midwife for the chick.
The baby broke free with a resounding chirp followed by many more.
Tilo gathered the newly hatched blue jay chick and wiped the amniotic fluid from its bare, featherless body. He performed his duty of checking the chick's slit. He felt a bump and he nodded, "Congratulations, Kali. You have a son now."
Kali gasped, "He's male."
The sparrow finished cleaning the chick then passed the chirping, squirming infant to his mother.
Kali held him, "Shh, hush little Justin..." She named him after his father, the mate who never returned home to hold his new boy. She was sad, deeply sad that he could not be here.
Maureen sat in the hut with them nursing her own newborn kit. She had also born a son. She named him after her father, Iomer. "He's beautiful, Kali."
The widowed jay smiled sadly, "I know he is and I know you'll help me, right?"
The pine marten held paws with her avian lover, "As you've helped my baby, of course."
The new mother sobbed as Maureen embraced her, "Bless you, Maureen."
Caryn was there too with her newborn chick, Ruby. "And you'll have me too, Kali." She rubbed beaks with her friend as her daughter slept in her feathered arms.
...
Chief Nestor's son had also hatched.
The proud father sat in his hatchery cradling his pride and joy.
Vera had left him. She stayed long enough for their egg to hatch, but then she was gone into the dense woods surrounding their village. Heartbroken, betrayed, she no longer wished to compete for the affections of her cousin, not when he had used her then cast her aside for Feroz, his true love.
Of course, Feroz had stayed, as loyal as ever. Shortly after her departure, Nestor had publicly proposed to Feroz, to make him his new mate under Rhia. Feroz was sad for Vera, but his love for that young eagle he once trained outweighed his sympathy. The vulture was preparing food for his new son, Trantor.
Nestor always hated his own name, he did not feel it was the name deserving of a great and powerful chief like him. He wanted his son to have a strong name, so he named him Trantor. When Feroz was finished cooking the baby food for Trantor, Nestor passed his son to him. "Care for him as if he were your own, dear Feroz." He touched beaks unabashedly with his lover before he stepped away.
In his master bedroom, Nestor took off his eyepatch and left the garment in a basket. He took out a small jar filled with a minty-smelling herbal cream. He applied the cooling solution to his aching right eye socket; the eye he'd gouged out himself to achieve his place here as chief. It reminded him of his past lectures by his father, his father's expressed distaste for Nestor's friendship with Feroz. Now Gregor was dead and Nestor was chief and the eagle felt some remorse for what he'd done, but it had to be done. His father's approach in the past at dealing with neighboring tribes, trade with those wolves to the north, Nestor never agreed. There was no real fortune in trade.
The eagle remembered a day in his youth.
Nestor had just turned eighteen. He'd stumbled upon some fallen mammals on a dirt road. Two were squirrels, bodyguards, each had been shot through the heart with arrows, then stripped of their clothing. The one before them was a mouse in fancy clothes. His throat had been slashed, clothes ripped and his anus was bleeding. Nestor should have run back home but something spurred him forward.
He saw something shining on the ground. He picked it up and it had been a gold coin. He never saw anything so shiny, so pretty. He looked around and saw more gold trailing further away from the village. He followed it.
He followed until he came upon a camping ground where the murderous bandits had stopped to check their loot.
One of them, a wolf, wore the dead mouse's fancy cape while he sorted through their pilfered riches, "With this much gold, I could buy me a couple nights at the brothels in town."
The weasel beside him kicked the wolf playfully, "That's all you think about isn't it, Gerick?"
The wolf named Gerick kicked back, "And I suppose you're only in this for charity, eh?"
The weasel sat up indignant, "Of course it's a charity, it's called Feed a Weasel." His pudgy belly growled at the mention of feeding.
Gerick kicked him in his rear, "Fat ass! You tell me I think with my privates, then you let your gut do your thinking!"
The weasel stuck his tongue out, "So I'm a hypocrite, arrest me! Put me on the gallows, my friend!" He picked up the bag of gold he'd pilfered from that rich mouse they just killed. "Mmm, that mousey did have a nice ass though. I wish he hadn't died so quickly." Then, he noticed the bag was lighter than when he'd picked it up before. "Ey, what's this?" He turned it and the bag had a tear in it. "Fuck, I've lost some of my gold!"
The wolf scoffed, "So what? We've still got plenty!"
The weasel stood up, "And what if someone sees that gold, Gerick? If a ranger finds us, it's our necks!"
Young Nestor had listened to them and hadn't noticed some bigger furs moving up behind him.
A gloved hand came down on his shoulder and another held his beak to stop him from screaming.
A tall fox in chainmail armor shushed the young eagle, "Be still, child. We won't hurt you."
The teen looked up and saw other canids standing around the fox.
The fox made a gesture to his fellow rangers.
Gerick stood, "So some forest ranger finds us, we could take him!"
The weasel shouted, "Except they never attack alone!"
The wolf growled, "You're just being paranoid!"
"Halt, criminals!"
And that was when three armored canines jumped out into the clearing with their swords drawn on the two bandits.
The weasel shouted, "Never call me paranoid again, Gerick!" before he threw his paws up and got down on his knees.