Raptor’s Origin

                                           [Demplar Fantasy] or is it true history??
                                                 Raptor’s Roost: The Hatchining
	When she felt the first few trembles, she ignored them.  Probably another false alarm.  When they continued and started to increase in strength, she let out a screech hoping her mate was in range and would come rushing back for he was out hunting for her. She shifted and rose slightly, most of the eggs were trembling and cracks were starting to form. Slowly the cracks grew bigger forming holes that were filled with noses and sharp little teeth.
	“Father!”, she screeched again even louder than before.  “They are hatching!”, even though it was her own voice the volume she reached mixed with the excitement of their first clutch hatching startled her a bit. It was mere seconds later that she heard the thudding of her mate’s feet moving as fast as he could make them move not trying to be stealthy as they normally were but as hurried as could be made.
	He came tearing thru the brush around their nesting site, dropping three rabbit carcasses next to the nest just in time to see the first full head pop out of an egg and split the egg wide open.  A radiance started to emit from him as he saw his fist son being completely hatched.  Mother started to clean him almost immediately, then on to the next and the next after that as they all broke completely free of their delicate little life supporting prisons. Over the next minutes eleven little raptors were free and cleaned, but yet one egg remained. 
	A tear started to form in one of mother’s eyes not out of joy as were the previous ones, but from sadness for the one that had not hatched. ” Must have been a dud.”, Father said gruffly.  Then before he even finished a tremor shook the egg and a small hole formed.  Then stillness, seconds feeling like hours to the new parents before finally another tremor shook the egg and the hole got only a tiny bit longer.  The other hatchlings knowing nothing but the hunger in their bellies started to squawk with their shrill little throats so as she watched the last little egg with hope and fear, an ache that almost froze her, she forced herself to shred the rabbit carcasses up and feed the hungry ones.
	By the time the feeding was done the last one still had not emerged, the hole just big enough now for the snout to barely fit thru to get fresh air. They looked on knowing they can do nothing, the hatchling must free itself if it is to make it in the world and any help they provide would only hasten its demise.  Time seemed to freeze when the egg would lay still then speed up again with each tremble rushing in hope only to bring back fear when it the stillness returned.  Minutes turned into hours, the other hatchlings awoke from their naps only to demand to be fed again and still the egg hid its prize.  Then all at once and finally a whole little head exploded out of the egg briefly and disappeared again.  Many cracks had formed around the hole and when the next tremor shook the egg another tiny raptor come spilling out the side of the egg and rolled free.  Trying to gain its legs it was more unsure and wobblier than the others had been and was much smaller. 
As mother’s heart almost exploded in relief and joy she began to clean the newest addition immediately.  Father watching, a tinge of sadness in his eyes, “If we were mammals, I believe that is what they would call the runt of the clutch.” Picking up on their father’s words the other hatchings started to chant, “Runt.  Runt. Runt.” Father continued,” Might be better off to throw him into the river now than…”
Mother spun around so fast that Father took a step back without intent, the gleam in her eyes told him he might of ate his last meal.  The hatchlings, knowing nothing yet, became still and quiet even.  “He is one of our hatchlings,” she hissed, her words were as venom dripping from snakes’ fangs, “and we will feed him!  We will care for him!  We will make sure he grows up and gets to hunt! And I am telling you right now, if I come back from one of my hunts and anything has happened to him…”  Her words stopped but the glare in here eye told Father not to say a word just yet.  “I will gut you where you stand without a second thought and eat your balls!”
And with that Runt was kept safe.  Mother always make sure he got all he could eat and that the other hatchlings were not too mean to him.  However, when she was out for her hunting times, Father was less protective of him.  While he believed his mate when she warned him what would happen if something bad would happen, he still did not offer any protection from Runt’s siblings in hopes it would help him grow and toughen him up if he did not. 
The weeks turn into months and when the hatchlings were big enough Father announced it was time to teach them to hunt.  The all started bouncing and clamor on top of each other in excitement. “Calm down you all,” Father snapped in his meanest growl, “or I will not take any of you!  Hunting is about being quiet and patient, not noisy and obnoxious!”  He continued telling all the hatchlings all the other instructions and tips on beginning the hunt. And as the were heading out, Father looked around making sure to do a head count and stopped.  “Where do you think you are going, Runt?  You are not yet big enough to hunt yet!”
In all the time that has passed, Runt did not grow as big as his siblings, in fact he was still half the size of the smallest of the others and could almost ride the back of his biggest brother if he would let him.  Despite the extra food that Mother always hid back for him, he just was not growing big and strong like the others.  Mother spoke up, “ That is ok littlest one,” she tried as much as she could to not use that filthy mammal name runt that the others insisted on calling him, “ You stay here and keep Mother safe while I take a nap, you are big enough to do that aren’t you”  Runt just hung his head, trying to hide the tears forming, and walked back to the nest in silence.   He should be used to it now, being left out, being picked on, but it still hurt.  
The others left and Mother laid down for her nap pulling runt close to her.  Before long, her grasp on him loosened and she fell into a deep slumber.  Runt was able to wiggle free without waking her, and decided he was too big enough to go on the hunt.  So off he went sniffing along the way trying to follow their trail. He would show them and get the biggest catch of the day.
This being his first outing away from the nest it was not long before he lost all scent of his father and hatchlings and was not even sure which way was back to the nest.  Then out of the corner of his eye was a flash of white.  He slowly turned toward the motion, trying to recall all the instructions that his father shared with them all.  It looked like a rabbit but all the rabbits that Mother and Father brought to the nest were brown, why was this one white?  He did not know but he thought it must be special and bringing it home will make him special.  He must hunt the white rabbit and catch it.
He lowered his body as close to the ground as he could and started to creep ever so slowly toward the rabbit.  He was almost ready to pounce when a sound broke the silence of nature.  Thew rabbit started to hop away, Runt leapt up and started to chase after and seen what made the sounds.  It was what was told to him as a two legged pink skinned with artificial fur hooman, this one was carrying a big stick and had long white hair coming from his head and face.  But Runt was determined to get the special rabbit and take it back to the nest. The special rabbit was running straight for the hooman.  Runt was almost on top of it when it gave a giant leap up into the free arm of the hooman, so Runt jumped too. 
He missed the rabbit, instead his mouth closed around the smallest finger of the hooman.  Runt might be small but his jaws were still as strong as a bear trap and his teeth as sharp as titanium razors and with little effort he fell back to the ground with the hoomans finger still in his mouth and it felt like there was a rock with the finger.  The hooman let out a horrible screech and stared kicking at Runt.  Runt was quick to jump up and started to run away from the hooman.  He crunched on the finger and swallowed it and the rock thing that was attached to it so he could concentrate on running.  He looked over his shoulder and seen the end of the big stick was glowing bright, then the brightness was getting closer. Runt jumped to the side just as the brightness was going to strike him, but it was still close enough that he felt pain on his shoulder that he had never felt before.  Yet he kept running as more balls of brightness flew past him.
Down a hill and around a big rock, seeking shelter he found a rat hole that he quickly dove into before the hooman could find him again and he laid as still as he could trying to make no sound while he was huffing and trying to catch his breath.  The pain in his shoulder increasing as he lay there, and a heat was forming in his belly.  Waves of pain emitting from his shoulder and a fire in his belly, Runt was getting more and more scarred as the footsteps of the hooman seemed to be getting closer and he hoped he would not be discovered. Then a great sleepiness overtook him and he slept.
When Runt awoke, the big fireball had gone away, and the silver one was high in the sky and as full as it could be.  The fire in his belly was gone and only a dull ache in his shoulder. He lay still and quiet, listening for any signs of the hooman.  Only the night sounds of nature made it to his ears.  Slowly he attempted to move, and he realized something was wrong.  The hole he had easily jumped into had shrank and closed down on him, almost impossible to move. But wiggle a little he could.  The with a great heave he stood up, large clumps of earth and rock fell from his back as he stretched.  Apparently, the hole was not the only thing that shrank, the huge rock he had ran around was now much smaller, in fact, he could easily see over it.  Maybe things shrink in the night under the silver ball and that is why we do not leave the nest at night he thought as he began to retrace his steps.
Strange, everything is strange now, he mused.  His sense of smell seemed way stronger, he was easily picking up his own scent to lead him back to the nest and to Mother.  How she must be worried, so. Father will be angry, but when is he not angry with me. Even though they have played under the full moon before, tonight, out here on his own his eyes were seeing things they have not been able to see unless it was daytime. He shook it off as he did not know enough of the workings outside of the nest.
He easily followed his trail back to the nest, as he approached, he could hear Mother whimpering in her sleep while Father made little sound.  As if he was not asleep, strange yet again.  When he got within ten steps of the nest Father jumped up, “Mother rise! We have trouble!”  
Trouble, what trouble, it is just me Runt.  About this time, he realized he now stood three heads taller than his father.  This is strange, he has never shrunk at night in the nest before… 
Mother arose, legs bunched, nose down, ready to pounce, “What do you want? You will die before we let you hurt our hatchlings!”  The fire she could raise when protecting us is quite amazing, went thru Runts mind while he was looking for words, and the words were forming hard, “But Mother it is me, your Littlest one!  Father, I am you Runt do you not recognize me?”  after he had said that he realized his ears did not hear the screech and growls that he is used to.  No!  Somehow hooman, correction human, words were what escaped with only the accent of a shriek present. He could not comprehend why.
“Get on out of here if you want to see another fireball rise into the sky and stay far away from my family beast!”, growled Father.  Not knowing what else to do, not understanding anything, Runt did the only thing he could think to do.  He turned his back and ran.  He ran until he was exhausted and then he ran more, till he collapsed into a pile and hid his tear covered face.  His own family would not take him back, he no longer spoke their language, he lay there on the ground and let exhausted sleep overtake him once again.
When he awoke and surveyed his surroundings.  There in the distance, three days walk maybe was a town.  He would head there, look up one of the wise men that humans call mages and see if they can return him to his former self.  If not, he will eat their fingers.  Fingers are good.