Some Short Story... thing...

[PichuK]

I don't even know what this is. I guess this is what happens when I stay up late at night and get a brain-fart. I might continue it, it ends rather abruptly. Ehhh...

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Let me tell you a few things about Tyrannia.

 

First: It's not a very welcoming place. At all. Pterodactyls dot the sky at all times, and here's something I've learned from expereience about them: They're hungry. All the time. They're fast, too. I've had many flockmates who have perished in a Pterodactyls jaws.

The next thing you should know about Tyrannia is that it's extremely hot there, the Lost Desert is the only place that's even more boiling.

 

Whilst these things are bad enough, then you have the locals. Ugh. I'd go as far to say that they are the lowest point of all civilisation in Neopia, if I hadn't been born there. So, I instead pretend that Meridell is worse -- others generally believe me when I say this. They don't know what Meridellians are like. I didn't either, back then.

My name is Kernrisel. I am a Pteri.

 

You may assume, dear reader, that all pets (ugh) are bred in facilities and then handed out to the next person that passes by, then given some stupid name like... Fuzzlekins or Dethstalker. Yikes. Nope, that's quite wrong. I mean, yeah, there are breeding facilities, but not all "pets" come from them. Some of them are taken from their natural environment when there's a shortage (for example, Cybunnies. The facilities are not allowed to breed them, so they have to be obtained by other means) or when the "pet" in question wants to be given an "owner".

 

Ugh, give me a second. I hate the use of "pet" and "owner". It shouldn't be like that -- more like "Neopian" and "human".

 

So, where was I? Ah, yes. Now that you know what happens when you want to get "your" Snuggleywobbles, let me continue about life in Tyrannia.

 

When an egg is laid, it simply has to be hidden. A place my flock has found to be good is in the High Plateau, in a crack in a mountain or a far-off cave in the bedrock. Pteri have to be very careful in picking a spot to hide eggs - Gralls and most natives consider them a delicacy. The natural heat takes care of actually hatching the chicks.

The rest of the flock then lives there for the rest of their life...

...most of the time.

 

When I still lived there, I was a lookout of the Nirckre flock. Lookout duty is probably the worst job you could possibly have -- you must stay as still and calm as possible. You must be alert. And you must be able to fly fast -- and I mean fast. Fast enough to retreat back into the nest before a 8"00' predator can see or smell you. Because you're standing still all day and night, the sun also beats down on you without mercy.

 

It was one of those uneventful days that I was set up at my post with a fellow Nirckre lookout, Girketn. We knew each other as flockmates, nothing more. The Nirckre flock is-- was small. Only 34 or so of us lived together, but the strongest bonds were between mates and chick-guards. I was posted far enough away from Girketn so that I'd rarely get the chance to talk to him. Ah well.

 

I'm off track again.

 

We were waiting there at our posts, when he started inching toward me. This caught my attention. I fluttered up to him, wanting to know what he'd seen.

And there it was.

A tourist.

It was a Kougra, obviously suffering in the heat. It probably had wandered too far from his beloved human and gotten lost in the more hostile areas. Its coat was a dark grey, with midnight black stripes. I couldn't help but laugh at it.

 

"So, do you think that rotten omelet that Droynl found last week is still there?" quipped Girketn. We grinned. Pranks are a large part of Pteri culture, the more you pulled, the higher you were respected. Oh boy, this was gonna be great.

It only took us a minute to find the omelet (there were other lookouts! It was fine for us to leave, provided we got back before anyone could notice...), as it stunk horribly. It was hard to not find it...

When we inspected it, our grins grew even wider. A thick, cheese-like substance caked it completely. There were even Miz'kat larvae living on it. Perfect.

 

We flew back to the Kougra, giggling in anticipation. Girketn was the one who was did the deed. The omelet landed squarely on the cat's head, complete with a loud squelching sound. It reared back, shrieking and struggling widely to get the omelet off. The only thing louder than it was our laughter. We flew back to Girketn's post, so the Kougra was still in sight for our viewing pleasure.

 

We were so stupid.

 

We didn't notice the pterodactyl.

 

When I finally left to return to my post, I was met with a deafening mix of a screech and a roar, and a huge set of jaws set in a wicked beak.

 

Dear reader, have you ever wondered what death would look like if it was a physical being? You can stop wondering. It would look like what I had seen on that day, a giant terror of the skies swifter than any Eyrie and sleeker than any Xweetok. A mind controlled by one primitive, primal thought. Fierce enough to make you know that you were going to die in half a second if you didn't move -- now!

 

I barely had time to react. I banked hard, catching a thermal that probably saved my life. I rose up high on the pillar of air, flapping frantically. I flew past Girketn's line of sight. I hope he made it out okay.

 

I didn't need any motivation to keep moving -- the beast following me would not shut up, but I wasn't listening to it at that time. My heart was beating in my throat, pounding in my ears. I could feel it's breath on my tail at some points. I did the only thing I could: I flew.

 

Let me tell you about flying. It's an amazing experience, you feel as if you have access to every nook and cranny of the world. You look down on everyone else -- they're all insignificant. Unless you want to play a prank on them. It's all fair game.

The most important thing about it is having a good thermal -- a pillar of warm air that you can float up and then glide down from. It requires little energy and not much physical effort.

 

At that point in time, I was straining myself as much as I could to shift from thermal to thermal, making erratic turns and diving, trying to lose it. I was barely looking as I flew, my mind coming to the simple checklist of: "Is there something in the way? Yes? Move! No? Dive! Turn! Bank left!"

The pterodactyl was on my tail the whole time. I never looked back. It was the longest I'd ever gone before, how I managed to live through that, I'll never know.

When my wings gave out, I had lost the beast. I glided down to the ground, and I knew why the pterodactyl wasn't following me.

 

The area around me was pure white. My adrenaline had slowly died down, and I realized it was cold. Hah, that's the understatement of the century.

Do you remember about what I said about Tyrannia being blistering hot? A Pteri's feathers are very thin and light, to stop overheating. We have no down to keep us warm, the only purpose of feathers is for flying.

The wind blew straight though me like daggers. I wanted to go to sleep. I was so tired. So... tired... And cold. And the pain...

 

--

 

I woke up in a cold (by my standards) house. It was, admittedly, much warmer than the outside, but that doesn't mean that it wasn't still cold. A Lenny sat on a stool behind a counter, muttering to himself. I way laid on a bed, of sorts. I didn't feel like moving. So, instead, I muttered the only thing I could think of at the time. Probably the most cliched question ever, but hey! I was tired. I was cold. I was not in the mood to think of a clever quip or think rationally.

 

"Where am I?"

 

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As I said, I don't know what this is. Can someone tell me? :S