Tis a chilly night, this early springtime.. Breehill bulks black against the not-so-black sky, blotting out a fair portion of the stars that glitter coldly overhead.

Against the edge of one tumbled stone wall, lies the curled up figure of a lad. He is sleeping it appears, or trying to, so near to these ominous ruins; his head rests on his arm and a short woolen coat is draped over his shoulders.


Overhead, the light shifts. Stars are momentarily hidden, then reappear as a black form passes overhead. From her height, the bird appears to be cruising slowly, gentle circles carrying her overhead the sleeping form. As yet, she's not low enough to cause a breeze, not low enough to warrent a rustle in the grass even, though this stillness doesn't last long. Dropping lower, the form-- one that could be made out by those with keener eyes as a predator, hangs as if suspended by a string and then passes overhead once more. It's now evident that her circles are not slow, nor lazy and careless, but as fast as hidden winds and deliberate. A cool breeze hits the shrubs below.
And then, as if having dropped from a cloud, or formed from one of the high-above stars, the form appears, speeding toward the ground nearby the ruins. Air whistles through autumn-hued feathers as wings are fanned out beside the massive body, talons are stretched out before her as she dives upon an unassuming, and rather large rabbit.


Bushes rattle in a breeze. The sleeping boy stirs a little, throwing out one arm, wincing a little even through his dreams. But the breeze turns to a gale, flattening branches and sweeping his coat away, and his eyes open abruptly. To see, not far from his nose, a set of talons that could easily disembowel him.


But the talons are not meant for disemboweling young and once-sleeping boys. Rabbits, on the other hand, don't have as much luck. Even as those claws, so used to killing and tearing horses come down upon the tiny body, only one can clasp about it, while the other takes up a clump of dirt. Perhaps it is not even from the claws themselves that the rabbit soon hangs limp, but from being crushed beneath the weight, and from the fright of those great claws closing about it...
Either way, it is dead soon, but the Eagle is not finished yet. Barely has she touched the ground before a great beat of those massive wings sends her upward, to eventually perch upon the ruins, wings poised at her side for some moments.


Dust, twigs, leftover leaves, small pebbles... Sent flying from the downdraft of those enormous wings, they pelt Toby's terrified face. He too is still, as still as the rabbit hanging from the eagle's claw - only his eyes follow this freakish nightmare until it lands above him, partially obscured by the ruin itself. Ever so carefully, he moves his head until he can keep the bird in his vision. Better the monster you can see than the one you can't.


Perhaps she is merely catching her breath and ignoring the laying human. The rabbit hands from her claws, bloody and mangled by the weight earlier pressed upon it, and the one lethal claw that grips it and stops it falling. Finally, the head is turned, one sharp eye of amber and green fixed on the boy. Those eyes are not unused to watching the slightest movements on even the cloudiest day, not unused to dropping from the heights to catch a silver fish in a river, and now they watch the laying-one as if considering him to be her next meal, after the rabbit. But there is no malice in that gaze, nothing unkindly, but curiousity at the silence and stilness. The head tilts, the beak clicks in thought.


Mesmerized, paralyzed, Toby stares back. One hand creeps towards his side, as if a dagger would be of any use against such a creature. For a second, he fumbles blindly, then his hand relaxes, the fingers curling emptily towards the sky.


From eyes watching eyes, that gaze snaps to regard the hand, the fumbling; the movement and the fingers. The head tilts to the left. At the emptiness of the hand, the gaze shifts to the hanging rabbit and then the beak clicks again. "Do you want some?" From within the parted beak forms the words. Strangely distorted by beak and accent, the voice is low and gravelly, but the voice of a female of her kind. "There is only little, but if you had hunt it and I take it, I give it for you instead?" A note of irritation resonates through the words, but they are curious still.


The beak opens and Toby's face pales. Strange noises come out, harsh and fearsome - like rocks grinding against one another. Eventually, they resolve themselves into words, and the boy's mouth falls open. "N-n-no," he manages to stammer at last.


If this Eagle had lips, perhaps she would frown. Another beak-click follows. Quickly losing interest in the No-Speak, the Eagle ducks her head to tear at the rabbit, takes up a large piece of meat and swallows it. Wings finally fold at her side, and it appears she is struck by a sudden thought. "Why do you sleep here? Is this yourhome?"


The beak, large enough to bite off his head, opens... Toby shuts his eyes and swallows audibly. Stones move again, ponderous and grim, and the boy shakes his head convulsively. Tentatively, he opens his eyes again, and now they are strangely calm. To be speaking with a bird so large in the midnight, the stars glittering so distantly above - surely this is some dream, and peacefully, he says, "No, I'm sleeping here because I can't sleep in the stables any more."


The Eagle shifts her weight upon the ruins, stones clatter down as those talons grip further into the rock upon which she sits. "Stables?" Puzzlement. No note of reckoning rings within the word repeated. "I donot understand what this stables is. Stables... Stables.. I donot know stables. What is stables?" Distracted by her meal now at the prospect of learning, feathers upon head and neck ruffle as she leans foward, as if that would allow her to better understand.


The oddity of explaining something so basic to a creature larger than he himself by several feet and some hundred pounds seems not to register. And it wouldn't in a dream, where stranger things happen without surprise. "Where they put th'horses," he says. "Ya know, to feed 'em and keep 'em dry and so they doesn't wander off an' get lost." A scowl wrinkles his face at the words.


"Horses." The word is not repeated in question, this time, but in some thought. The gaze shifts to look in some far away direction. Some thought briefly finds her, and then she nods once, as if in understanding. Again she shifts- stones fly and roll along the ground. Is a dream filled with tangiable, touchable things? "I did not know about staples. We donot keep horses, though sometimes take them from places, if we are too hungry. Though I didnot know about staples. I thank-you for giving me knowledge of it."


A fist-sized rock bounces down, hitting Toby on his arm, and he yelps; the sleep abruptly cleared from his eyes to be replaced again by terror. Dreams are not filled with the tangible... "Y-y-you're real!?" he squawks.


There is a strange noise that comes from within the beak of the eagle; something of warbling-- she laughs. "Did you think I was not!? A shadow, maybe? A spirit come to eat rabbits and converse with the Secondborn? An imagination, or maybe you thought you did not wake up and were still sleeping?" More laughter-- she is obviously amused by his sudden realisation. "I am real, little-sleeping-one, as real as the grass you lie on, or the staples that you keep your horses in."


"B-but... you... you... I..." Toby stutters, his eyes darting to the side (and escape?) and then, fascinated, back to the bird. The nearest tree and possible shelter is too far, or is this bird made slow by its great size? He eyes the distance again.


"But what?!" Puzzlement again; perhaps she thinks he's arguing her stable remark? As his gaze shifts, so too does hers; searching out danger through the darkness. The gaze narrows, the beak clicks, and feathers ruffle. Again she shifts, leaving the rabbit to hang upon the wall. Another show of rocks and stones falls from her perch as those claws search for holds. "I donot understand you."


"You're so big," Toby whispers, before another falling rock thunks audibly on his skull. The sky goes dark, bird, stars, ruins.. all vanish into all-encompassing oblivion. And a thin white figure lies motionless on the ground, his ragged clothes limp about him.


(OOC) Iavasuial would like, carry him to saftey :P (OOC) Toby laughs. (OOC) You say, "Define safety. ;)" (OOC) Iavasuial says, "You should make it that he woke up somewhere.. like.. Oh! A field, down in Combe" (OOC) Iavasuial says, "She'd probably try talking to him for a bit, as well.. so if he wants to remember fuzzy voices.. ;)"