//------------------------------// // The Eve of the Hunt // Story: The Sun, the Moon, and the Hunt // by Pearple Prose //------------------------------// The library was a decrepit, dusty thing – “the black pit of blasphemers” the Hierophant called it, usually with a bit of spittle flying from her lips, and while the Hierophant wasn’t really someone whose words you took to heart, it was definitely something that the village tended to agree upon. The library is for the Faded, was the rule. And nobody wanted to be Faded. Bright Eyes wasn’t Faded – not yet. His tenth birthday was tomorrow. His first cycle was tomorrow. His first Hunt was, therefore, tomorrow. And this was the thought that followed him home from his lessons, poked at him as he roosted, troubled him when he slept. “Oh, no,” the thought whispered. “I am so doomed.” Bright Eyes was typically rather good at tests. He appreciated it when things made sense, and he liked the security and satisfaction that the comprehension of facts and concepts gave him. He knew the rules of the Hunt like the tines of his antlers – avoid ants, beware of birds, careful of cockatrices, and don’t even dare with a dragon… Thus, Bright Eyes was also perfectly aware that, of all the perytons in his village, only a sparse handful had ever returned shadowless. Those perytons didn’t stick around for very long. The Faded rarely do. Yet, despite everything, Bright Eyes was deeply, greatly, unfathomably, wing-rufflingly terrified, for no real justified reason other than that he had no idea how to hunt. And so it was that Bright Eyes, on the eve of his first Hunt, found himself creaking into the decaying library. His thin, twig-like legs shook on the uneven wooden floor. His wings fluttered and he was struck by a sudden sense of claustrophobia. “Why is this even here?” he said aloud. The library didn't respond. Still, he thought, it was a good question. What use did a peryton – a proper peryton, that is – have for a cramped old cabin, where the sun doesn’t shine and show the strength of their shadow? He certainly hadn’t seen any perytons come in and take any of the books, not in his lifetime. Other perytons probably aren’t as stupid as you are, to be fair, his thoughts reminded him. His thoughts had a good point. Bright Eyes stepped closer to the bookshelves, which seemed to teeter visibly when given only a stern look. He sighed, and resigned himself to perusing the spines of the books from a wing’s reach. He'd rather not make too much noise in here. He doubted that he would actually get in any trouble for daring to look at books,but it would definitely raise a few questions if he were discovered. A title caught his eye - "The Sun, the Moon, and the Hunt." He blinked at it. A storybook? He swept his eyes to the left, across all of the books he'd already checked. Most of them were leathery, ancient beasts,  written with words he couldn't understand. All of them were basically useless. Except for this one! Maybe. Hopefully. Bright Eyes reached out gingerly and tried to slip the thin little book from between its hulking forebears via his awkward young hooves. Suddenly, yet inevitably, one of the rusted nails that glued the slab of old oak to the wall snapped, and the shelf tipped to the left. The books tumbled and fell like an avalanche upon a greasy mound of fur and feathers in the distant, darkened corner. Bright Eyes froze. He held his breath and listened carefully to the silence of the forest outside. He couldn't hear anything, but that didn't tell him much - perytons didn't always have to make a noise when they moved, if they had the will or the magic for it. After a few seconds, Bright Eyes emptied his lungs with a sigh, then stepped closer to the mess in the corner. He found his little book quickly, and lowered his head to pick it up with his teeth. Immediately, he was struck by a putrid stench. He gagged. The feathery pile began to shake and shift and Bright Eyes could hear low groans and moans, as if something was in pain. He stepped back and watched as the dirty heap rose, steadily if haltingly, until it stood taller than him. The first thing Bright Eyes noticed when he looked at the filthy peryton was its stature. Its legs trembled like leaves, and they were as thin as Bright Eyes' own despite their height difference. Bright Eyes could see the peryton's ribs clearly through its papery skin. It looked malnourished. Its wings hung despondent by its sides, feathers uneven and curling. Even as he watched, dead feathers dangled then dropped from its wing into a pile on the floor. Whoever it was, it had been in here for a very, very long time. Bright Eyes turned and ran to the door. It didn't open when he yanked on it - the old thing had gotten stuck in its frame. He glanced over his shoulder. The peryton hadn't moved, just stood and swayed in silence. It looked at him. Its eyes were flat black, like pits. They didn't look malevolent, Bright Eyes realised. They just looked hollow. Outside, there was the sound of four hooves landing on hard-packed forest floor. "Hello?" a sweet, sonorous voice chirped through the door. "Is somebody in there?" Bright Eyes recognised that voice - Moonfeather had been something of a babysitter for him all his life. Bright Eyes didn't respond immediately. A sunbeam had poked out from behind a cloud and caught the mangy peryton in the eye, causing it to flinch away. And it had been so fast that Bright Eyes almost hadn't noticed it, but it was there. Or rather, it wasn't there. The peryton left no shadow. Before he really understood what he was doing, he had already called out, "It's me, Moonfeather!" "Bright Eyes?" She sounded concerned, but far from surprised. "Yep!" As he spoke, Bright Eyes gestured wildly at the peryton in the corner, who just stared at him blankly. "Just, uh, looking for a book." "You were making a ruckus in there. Are you alright?" The door rattled as Moonfeather began to push it open. Bright Eyes shot the peryton a look. Something flickered in its empty eyes, and it lay back down in a heap and went very still. Bright Eyes pulled the door open and looked up at Moonfeather’s surprised face. She blinked at him, then glanced past him into the room. Bright Eyes managed to avoid following her gaze, and he relaxed slightly when her soft and anxious expression didn’t warp into a shriek of horror. “The door was stuck,” he said. “But I think it’s okay now.” He smiled convincingly. Moonfeather raised a graceful eyebrow. It was rare to see her look anything other than serene, but Bright Eyes could see clearly the nervous frown on her delicate features. “I see.” “Um, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be in here long, but it’s just... Well, you told me to make sure I was ready for tomorrow and…” Moonfeather’s other eyebrow rose, then, in realisation. “Oh, Brighty. You could have just asked me or anyone else for advice, if you’re that nervous.” She sounded chiding, but relieved. Bright Eyes nodded chastely, as if he were apologetic (which he was, sort of – Moonfeather’s sincerity had a way of getting to him like that) and he slipped out from behind the door, closing almost fully shut behind him. Bright Eyes flinched and blinked beneath the sun’s glare. How long had he been in that dank little den? He looked at Moonfeather, now that he wasn’t peeking out through a gap in the door, and noted the pair of little birds roosting upon the tines of her antlers. He still didn’t know if they were her pets or if they just flocked to her as she passed, but she was rarely without them. “Did you find the book you were looking for?” she asked him. Bright Eyes looked down at the little book in his hooves and nodded absently. “There was really a book on the Hunt in there?” Bright Eyes looked at Moonflower in confusion. “Well, wouldn’t it be strange if there wasn’t? Isn’t the Hunt, like, the most important thing ever for a peryton?” Moonflower gave a tentative nod. “I suppose it might be, but I didn’t think any peryton actually built that library.” “Why is it here if nobody built it, then?” Moonflower lifted her beautiful brown wings into a shrug. “I’m not sure. Memories get fuzzy after so many cycles.” Bright Eyes was sharply reminded that he had no actual idea how old Moonfeather was. But he supposed it didn’t really matter in the end – the Moonfeather that stood here was probably quite different from the Moonfeather of only ten years ago, let alone a century. Moonfeather continued, “Perhaps something else built it shortly before we arrived. Perytons don’t like libraries, you understand – libraries are for lonely creatures, and a lonely peryton… well.” Something dark flickered across her face for a brief moment, and she abruptly turned away and looked up at the bright blue sky through the forest canopy. “It’s a nice day today. Let’s  think of nicer things, shall we, Brighty?” Bright Eyes was staring distantly over his shoulder at the library until the sound of his name snapped him back to reality. “Oh! Um. Yeah. Right.” She glanced at him, a patient smile on her face. “Why don’t we fly back and read your storybook?” Moonfeather sat down and opened her mighty wings in invitation, the sunshine casting the shadow of an enormous owl upon the forest floor before her. Bright Eyes’s face lit up with a smile, and he ran over, leapt onto his mentor’s back, and wrapped his arms around her neck. Moonfeather began to walk. Then run. Then sprint. With a leap, she was in the air, and with two beats of her powerful wings, she was soaring. Bright Eyes yelped with excitement. Moonfeather laughed like a song. But even as they left the ground, the grass, and left the little library behind, Bright Eyes turned and stared back at the open door. He caught a glimpse of a shadowless shape stepping out into the sun, spreading its wings, and flying off towards the distant horizon. Bright Eyes never returned to that library again. Perytons, as a people, had an affinity for the outdoors – for the bright sky and wide open air wherein they could fluff their wings and fly. Bright Eyes’s particular hunt had lived in the depths of the forest (they didn’t know its name, and they didn’t really care either way) for numerous cycles, long enough that most of the adults couldn’t remember precisely where they had come from, which was something that didn’t particularly matter in the end – they’d all come from somewhere or other, and they’d all gathered here, and it was where they would remain until they inevitably felt like going elsewhere. It was just how everything worked. Moonfeather and Bright Eyes landed on the branch of an enormous tree, where she usually rested. Roosting birds quickly fled when they arrived, but many stayed behind and chirped happily when Moonfeather walked among them. Moonfeather paid them little mind, and instead led Bright Eyes to her nest, stowed in the bough of her tree. It was quite bare, carrying only one or two of Moonfeather’s personal possessions, but she only ever slept here at night, and never stayed in it for long. Bright Eyes and his hunt rested in groups, as a rule, but it wasn’t hard and fast – peryton rules rarely were, at least for them. Perytons liked sleeping alongside others. Most of them carried the shadows of social animals, and as such they found it uncomfortable being alone for long periods of time. Moonfeather was no different. She sat down and made herself comfortable in her nest, then opened her wing in an invitation that Bright Eyes accepted without comment. The storybook sat between them in the nest. They stared at it with some trepidation. “So, this is your book?” Moonfeather asked. She used a wisp of magic to gather it up and hold it to her face, reading the cover aloud, in a halting voice. “Y-Yeah. I think it’s a storybook,” Bright Eyes gently took it from her grasp and held it, almost protectively, in his hooves. “I’m hoping it has something to do with the Hunt. I don’t see why it wouldn’t, if it’s a peryton story.” Moonfeather rested her head and watched Bright Eyes frown and flip through the pages of the book. “Do you want me to read it to you, little one?” Bright Eyes snorted. “As if. I’m ten years old, Moonfeather; I’m not a child anymore.” “Ah. Yes, you’re right. You are ten, after all.” Moonfeather’s voice warbled when she spoke, but Bright Eyes didn’t notice. “Yep. So, I’m going to read it to you instead.” Bright Eyes flipped back to the first page, cleared his throat with a pronounced ‘ahem’, and began to read.