A shadow soared over the rocky soil and ragged terrain of the north.
Proud as a beetle who's lived the winter, the awesome Laird MacClawwen ripped and wheeled in the clear sky. Every once and again he'd let out a wicked call of sheer joy and power -- sending small animals below his scuttling for cover. Oh, how he loved who he was.
Before him loomed a monumental tree, branches swaying for their sheer height. He screeched to a slow glide, and called out:
"Amberdulen!"
He was answered by a screech and a rustling of feathers ... then the eagle Amberdulen burst from her perch in the old oak and tackled the Laird MacClawwen in midair.
"MacClawwen! Ach yer a braw sight!"
"Lass, yer as feisty as ye was ever!"
Battling good-naturedly, the two old friends entered Amberdulen's wooden hollow for a reunion chat.
As his hostess brought out a freshly slain teatime treat, Laird MacClawwen glanced about her home. The walls were carved in the still-alive tree and were decorated with mementos of especially worthy kills. Amberdulen had a way with decorating.
She appeared with a platter of a bloody mess and presented it to Laird MacClawwen. He took a traditional first bite, then the two settled to catch up on times gone by.
"Sae tell me, MacClawwen, wha brin's ye tae me home?" She dipped into the meat and came back red-beaked. Her black eyes glinted.
Laird MacClawwen took another gory bite before answering, "Odd thing, lass. A vulture came an' tauld me there were a Coucil O' Feathers, callin' all laiders o' th' wing. Promised gold an' feastin'."
"Doon' trust vultures," Amberdulen warned. She winked. "But eff 'ee's tellin' the truth, let me in!"
MacClawwen laughed. "Wha' wuld it be wi'out ye, Amber?" he cackled.
Amberdulen shrieked in laughter. "Sae hau's yer cousin, MacClawwen?"
"Sharpshear? Ach, doon't git me started!"
The two chatted about everything from relatives to the peculiar sounds creatures make just before they die, until Laird MacClawwen decided that he had better be on his way. Amberdulen packed him a few scraps to tide his over, and sat on her branch to see him off.
Laird MacClawwen shrieked a farewell and flapped off for the meeting place in south Mossflower.
Amberdulen, watching him leave, cocked her head thoughtfully, spied a prospective meal below, and went off to her own devices.
Sleep ye well and now to rest,
None will put a dagger
In your father's chest.
Sleep so quiet, safe and warm;
Forget about the wildness
Of the hurtling storm.
Grow up strong, grow up tough;
A searat's life can be a world
Of seas a-rough.
She sat up suddenly. She'd thought she'd heard ... there it was again! The unmistakable distant sound of a crow's-nest watcher, crying ahoy to the land --
Crrreeeeeeeeaaaaaaaaashhhhhkkkkk