Chapter 87: The Call of Tayun (8)
°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ Trial of the Ancient °❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･
"Cute hair," Vulcan remarked from where he already perched on a low branch to a tree, his guide as still as the tree on the ground.
Yoa’s scowl deepened at the harpy-eagle’s words, but the held his tongue. His voice was not wasted on those who hadn’t earned it. That right belonged to his kin, to those who walked beside him, not someone whose eyes was on the same prize. Vulcan was no friend... just a rival whose shadow grew longer by the day.
Vulcan’s wings weren’t folded behind him in a comfortable position, they were arched wide around him, casting long shadows like an angel of death. His pale hair framed his face, falling just to his chin in the traditional style of the harpy-eagle shifters. But unlike most, Vulcan wore is heritage with flair, branding his position as the Sky Matron’s son and next heir to the Silver Feather flock. Golden beads adorned his hair, and two thin braids hung on either side of his face, each threaded with a feather that kept the strands from veiling his sharp gaze.
Yoa’s gaze flicked back to the phantom guides now standing side by side before the dark, dense jungle where others dared not go. The Vohraki once claimed these lands before another arrived, and the trees twisted and shrivelled to the power lurking inside.
Many youngsters dared each other to go into these parts. They wanted to prove their bravery. Many left untouched. Some never returned again.
If Zahul hadn’t insisted Yoa learned about the creature that resided in these parts, he might not feel the same wave of nerves now gripping at every muscle fibre in his body, stiffening his spine and locking his jaw with determination. Is this the trial he will fail?
It was a high possibility.
The scriptures Zahul had given him, blocks of stone with cryptic messages and stories, was not enough for him to understand how to beat the creature.