Longs and Shorts of Laverito: Lyra 3 - Volai

Badallaioc had his red beak buried in the snow, rummaging around what had been someone else’s temporary campsite, when they came for Laverito’s sandwich. 

“Movement,” Laverito murmured, and Badallaioc immediately tensed, ready to run should said movement prove to be something unhealthy for them. When the movement split from the trees, revealing itself to be a small, glittery deer-creature, Badallaioc snorted scornfully and returned to his rummaging.

Laverito took another bite of his sandwich, watching the approaching creature with great suspicion. He flexed his fuzzy toes, making sure he had a good stance atop Badallaioc’s back. Strategically speaking, this was a good place for Laverito to be in case of attack. Badallaioc was a large, strong, fast carnivore, who hadn’t yet met a problem that couldn’t be solved through running, smashing, or taking a large bite.

Badallaioc continued to rummage as another one of the glistening, glowing creatures appeared. Then another. Only then did the stryx pull his beak up from the snow to squint at the bite-sized snacks fearlessly gathering around them.

The creatures gazed up at Laverito with wide, dark eyes, full of fathomless thoughts, boundless in their pitiful hunger.

“No,” Laverito snapped. “Mine. My food. Not for you. Go beg from someone with empathy.”

The creatures shuffled, but not to leave. Instead they all politely sidestepped, allowing a fifth and sixth beggar to join the circle. They collectively attempted to will Laverito’s sandwich right out of his hands. Laverito refused. This was his sandwich! He’d stolen it from someone else fair and square!

Badallaioc sniggered. Laverito shifted his weight and his wings, fully expecting Badallaioc to shrug him off any moment now. Badallaioc would find it hilarious to watch Laverito desparately fleeing from the would-be sandwich gobblers. 

Well, the joke was on Badallaioc — when the horde of hungry volai had finished with Laverito, they’d turn to all the supplies carried in Badallaioc’s saddlebags. Laverito’s ghost would cackle most gleefully as it watched Badallaioc frantically try to writhe free of all the straps and buckles, while the dark-eyed volai swarmed the white stryx and devoured every snack Laverito had tucked away. 

But Badallaioc did not fling Laverito down to a certain nibbled death. Instead, the stryx followed a beaten trail away from the empty campsite. On either side of them rose cliffs coated in snow and corded with ice, and the path led them down through the narrow gulley towards the gleaming surface of a frozen lake. Others had broken this trail before them, and wherever others had gone, belongings might be dropped, mislaid, and pickpocketed. For someone so attentive and resourceful as Laverito, these bounties were ripe for the finding and keeping.

Laverito reached out to poke the icicles as Badallaioc passed them. One came off in his hand, sharp and so clear that it was nearly invisible. It was so cold that even the white fuzz coating Laverito’s palms couldn’t block the bite. Laverito marveled at the rarely-felt sensation for a while, then tossed the icicle off into the snow.

Badallaioc came to an abrupt halt. The stryx carved through the crunchy snow with thick red talons. When he lowered his long neck to peer at something on the ground, Laverito asked, “Whotsit?” around a mouthful of sandwich. Badallaioc did not reply, but Laverito could tell the stryx had found something by the sounds of careful excavating. 

Their entourage of volai were curious, too, and milled about, fearlessly walking around and even underneath the large carnivore who happened to be carrying their primary snack-having target. 

Badallaioc eventually pressed his head down into the snow, and when the stryx came up for air, he tugged something free. A quick twist of his long neck brought the object to light. Badallaioc presented the finding to Laverito with expectant flourish, and Laverito crammed the last of his sandwich down to free both hands for perusing. 

“Iffa hambag?” was the preliminary diagnosis. The leather was frozen solid, so Laverito shrugged and tucked the frozen handbag inside one of their own saddlebags. “Give it time to thaw, maybe the leather can still be sold after,” he told Badallaioc.

The stryx snorted derisively and continued walking down the path.

Presently they broke free of the narrow, claustrophobic gulley, and the ice-clad walls fell away to reveal the wide expanse of the frozen lake. The wind had swept it clean of snow, and the surface was nearly as pristine as the icicles behind them. The reflection of the sky above was so crisp, that Laverito fancied a flighted stryx may have attempted to dive down off the lakeshore. The gaggle of volai had lost interest in them, since Laverito had polished off the sandwich they had been wanting, and in a rush of bobbing tail-tufts and glowing footprints, they all cantered away across the ice.

“Hey, Badallaioc,” Laverito said. “I think that might be the mother. Do you think that might be the mother?”

“Um,” said Badallaioc.

Across the frozen surface of the great lake strode another glimmering volai. It was much like any of the other eight volai that had followed Laverito and Badallaioc down the gulley, hoping for that little nibble of sandwich that sadly never came. There was, however, one notable difference; this volai was gargantuan, twice as tall as Badallaioc or more, even if one included the stryx’s very long neck in the measurements. 

The horde of little volai clustered around their enormous relative, swirling and spinning around the feet of the giant without a single worry given to the possibility of being stepped on. The ice seemed to dance beneath the beams of refracted light cast by crystalline horns. Nine glowing tail-tufts bobbed and arced, resembling nothing so much as a frizzy moon being fussed over by a cluster of comets.

“Badallaioc, I’m really glad you didn’t eat any of those little animals. That’s great. What if we turned around and left right now? We could go look for more handbags.”

“Yeah,” said Badallaioc. 

So they turned right around and went to look for more handbags in the narrow, sheltering gulley. They didn’t look too hard, though. Badallaioc made sure to keep moving at a steady pace, away from the volai that could definitely best Badallaioc in a stomping competition. Maybe they’d missed something back at the campsite. Maybe they’d overlooked something very expensive that was very far away from here. Couldn’t hurt to check.