//------------------------------// // More Than Just An Insect // Story: Murgröna's Testimony // by Powerdrainer //------------------------------// Edited by Slayerseba and Clawder. More Than Just An Insect <<>><<>><<>> He stood out in a field, feeling the grass tickle the frog of his hooves as he slowly looked around with excitement-filled, light blue eyes; feeling the warming rays of the bright light high above on his black carapace, while the teal frill on his head swayed slightly in the breeze blowing ripples in the grass around him.  Others were close by, he could sense; their presence known over their shared mind, all of them telling him to return to the rock, as the older clutch packs prowled their territory.  A snort escaped him, scuffing the ground with a hoof as he stared at the nearby forest, and the calm stream of water which lay in between him and the hunting grounds; a large fish leaped out of the stream, the light of the bright light reflecting off its wet scales before it submerged again with a minimal splash.  Ears drooping, he turned around and headed back for the outcropping of rocks a stone's throw away from where he stood, sniffing the air cautiously before stepping in the shadows cast by the large boulders. One of them, lying on a slight incline, wonderfully concealing a narrow gap between it and the ground through the near-perfect blend of color and shadows, aided by the tall grass further obscuring the somewhat too narrow entrance he was currently crawling through to enter the burrow hidden underneath.  Several hooves full of dirt were kicked away during his entrance in which he managed to get stuck before he pulled free and rolled down the narrow drop before landing in an undignified heap. Buzzing, chirping and several clicks followed immediately as he pulled away his tail from over his face, able to see past the darkness underneath the stone and noticing the many eyes locked on him from the few tunnels under the rock. Most of them from the newly hatched.  Blowing air from his nostrils, creating small puffs of dust as he inadvertently blew away the dry dirt he lay in, he slowly picked himself up under the scrutinizing and entertained gazes of his horde. Dusting himself off with a full-body shake, followed by a loud sneeze from the dust blown up, which in turn scared the hatchlings who released a loud, frightened squeak; all of them scampering back in their nesting tunnel, the pupas dragging themselves forth by their front legs as they were still in their larval stage. A stage he left behind just six cold cycles, when the world turned white, ago. Rolling his eyes, he released a soft chirp of reassurance, stepping closer to the nesting tunnel and peering inside, seeing nine pairs of young eyes peer back at him from the darkness.  Another chirp came from him, followed by a click, a short buzz of his wings and a toothy grin. One by one, the pupas pulled themselves back to the entrance of their tunnel; the bravest of the clutch chirping back when he reached him, pressing a tiny hoof against his muzzle which scrunched upon contact. An amused tittering came from behind him, and he turned around the see their life-giver, larger and older than any other under the rock looking down on them with pride; her dark purple frill, much longer than all the others have obscured on of her sea-blue eyes as it extended down to her knees.  He looked up at his life-giver with a smile, he and the pupas now crowding around his hooves all chirping at her; the latter much louder and more for the need of attention.  His life-giver nuzzled him on the head, then gently but firmly gave him a push on the flank with her muzzle, leading him away as she took care of her latest clutch. With a buzz of his wings, he did as instructed and moved down one of the other tunnels; able to see a faint glow coming from further down, which quickly grew brighter the further he went.  He reached the end of the tunnel, and entered the largest burrow under the rock; the glow now as bright as the light above the rock as he saw several of his own clutch sitting or lying underneath the one thing older than their life-giver.  The glowing vines, leaves, and a couple of flowers covered the walls and ceiling of the chamber while several small vines reached out for his clutch mates and sharing with them the stories it holds. One of such vines slithered down from the wall near him, poking him on the muzzle much like the pupa had done, once more making his muzzle scrunch up before he stepped to and lay down beside the youngest of his clutch. Using a hind leg, he scratched an itch behind his ear, then looked up at the vine hanging above him.  He chirped, and it extended down to him; touching him on the forehead, and he joined the others in the stories. <<>><<>><<>> With a gasp, Danny was pulled from wherever he'd been, eyes flashing back and forth as he tried to get a grip on what was happening, only to lose himself in the energy seconds later as new images started to present themselves.  <<>><<>><<>> He stood out in the tall grass; the same field he had stood so many times before, watching the distant forest and wondering what mysteries it held. But he could never find out as the others warned him away, still too few cycles had passed for him to safely venture out on his own. But now, after the passing of his twelfth cold cycle, he, along with his clutchmates were taken out with the elders of his horde. They were all split up, and he followed after an elder as she led him past the stream and towards the forest; quickly disappearing in the shadows while he slowed down with each step, head tilting back as the once small trees became taller and taller.  He stopped, watching wide-eyed at the towering giants with unexpected nervousness.  He was pulled from his stupor by his elder as she gave him a firm wack on his head, then tittered to herself from his reaction. As she pointed a commanding hoof to the trees, he slowly, uncertain, stepped closer and closer; the wonder and excitement he once felt of what mysteries might hide behind the trees was now overruled by the fear he felt of finding out. Stopping at the forest's edge, he looked past the trees and as far into the woods as he could. Lifting a hoof, he carefully took a step forward.  His hoof landed with a solid thump on dry ground, and his head snapped up, eyes scanning around, expecting anything to happen. A hiss came from his back, and his elder walked past, rolling her eyes as she whacked him on the head again, then moved into the forest once more.  Rubbing his head with a hoof, he glared at his elder who simply glanced back over her withers with a bored expression, expecting him to follow without further delay.  A flitter came from his wings as he realigned them, then he stepped into the forest; his frustration over being whacked on the head, twice, made him forget about his previous anxiety.  He stomped over to his elder, whose ears twitched from the sound as he moved into her side. Another hoof whacked on his head, and this time a pained hiss escaped him as he lowered to the ground, vigorously rubbing the painful throb he now had.  A hoof stepped down before him, tapping the ground in annoyance. Looking up, he saw his elder look down on him, displeased. Receiving a firm scolding over their linked minds.  Ears drooping, he pushed himself back up, and doing his best to ignore the pain he still felt as his elder finally was allowed to do what they came here to do in the first place: Hunt. Just like the rest of his clutchmates, this was their first-ever journey into the forest. A place as mysterious to them as it was dangerous. Regardless of the stories they'd seen. And so he and his clutchmates were taken separately into the forest, each with their own elder to learn what they must know to one day hunt on their own. But it would be many cycles still to come before he or the others of his clutch would be able to do so. Each step he took showed his inexperience as he rummaged through leaves, stomped on twigs which snapped far louder than he'd expected, tripped over roots, or was simply distracted by everything new and exciting.  His head had to endure a steady stream of abuse because of it, as his elder made sure to hammer in each mistake he made, then taught him how to become a part of the woods themselves. Many times did the rock in the sky pass, and each new day he learned more and more. First, he learned to watch the ground, and where to place his hooves; to recognize the roots he'd continuously tripped over, and to avoid making noise unless he wanted it to.  Then he learned to listen, the sounds of the world around him telling him all he had to know and guiding him to where to go. He was taught how to become one with his environment; blending in with the shadows or lack there off, able to move in closer and closer to his target without notice with each time he tried.  He was taught to recognize the dangers lurking within the woods, the sudden lack of sound a clear cry of the forest to run. And he was taught to fight when his first opponent, a wild cockatrice, cut off his path of escape.  And now, after several more cold cycles, all of his training, all of his bruises, chuffed chitin, injuries and headaches accumulated to this one moment: his own hunt. Succeed, and he would be recognized as a hunter himself. Fail, and he would be rejected.  All had to contribute to maintain their burrow, protect the hatchlings, and to gather food. If one was unable to do so, there would be no place for them under the rock. And so, with cycles of training with him, he ventured out into the woods under the watchful eyes of his elder as he melted into the shadows and vanished without a sound. Stepping over roots and avoiding any twig, branch, or other natural trap that could give him away.  The forest soon told him where to go, and he listened as he climbed up a tree and used one of its branches to avoid the wild stream of water which cut through his path. Letting go, he spread his wings, but did not use them in any way that would have made a sound; instead merely using them to glide down and land quietly down on the other side within the natural cover created by a deep root system of a mighty oak. Sniffing the air, ears twitching, he slowly crawled out of his hiding spot and into the cover of a nearby bush.  Lowering to the ground, he crawled forwards slowly, quietly, until a small break in his leafy cover revealed to him what he was looking for: A small family of foxes. A vixen with five cubs.  Excitement grew, but he stifled it. He would not make a mistake now. He'd gotten too close to fail. And so, with deliberate slowness, he crawled closer; making sure to keep underneath the foliage and, when it ended, to blend into the shadows as he snuck closer and closer until, just a stone's throw away, he stopped, watching, waiting. The vixen, too, stopped. Head held high, ears at attention and sniffing the air, a wave of nervousness swept over him. Had she noticed him?  A squawk and a flutter of wings came from a branch above, and a raven flew away.  Momentarily startled, but recovering quickly, the vixen relaxed while her cubs continued to play and he allowed himself to relax slightly. He'd gone unnoticed.  Lying in wait, he watched as the cubs and vixen as they scurried around, unknowingly moving closer and closer to him until, at the point of no return, the vixen stepped within striking range.  In a blur of movement, accompanied by a loud yelp from the vixen as his fangs sunk into her neck, he grabbed hold of the thrashing fox as she tired herself out in her attempt to escape while her cubs ran away to hide.  It took many minutes, and he'd almost lost hold of the vixen twice, but eventually, she collapsed as the strength to fight left her, and he feasted. <<>><<>><<>> He watched from the shadows at the vixen as she lay on the ground where he'd left her, her cubs yelping as they came looking for their life-giver. One of the cubs moved in closer to the unmoving form lying on the ground, pressing into her side with his muzzle. One of her legs twitched, then another, and slowly, dizzily, she flailed around as she tried to get back up. Satisfied and belly full of energy, he snuck away, then moved back to the forest's edge where he found his elder waiting for him. He succeeded, and was welcomed within the ranks of a hunter. All of them working together to provide for the rock and their burrow underneath.  It would be many more cold cycles before the next great change in his life. But at the end of his twenty-fifth cold cycle, he stood in wait before the forest, remembering all his elder had taught him, and momentarily mourning her passing two cycles ago, when the loud stomping of the hatchlings drew the attention of him and the rest of his clutch with him.  Now they were the elders, and the task of passing down their skills and knowledge fell to them.  It was a task he fulfilled with pride, and the occasional whack on his charge's head.