Príbehy 

pardon, že je v angličtine, ide mi a som na deviante a nechcelo sa mi prekladať. ak budete chcieť, napíšem už aj postnutú 2. časť po slovensky.

takže už tu máme prvý príbeh. píšem ho tu ja, ale patrí Moonlight.
a odkazuje: ak mi ho niekto okopíruje, zožerem ho.
tu je:

He felt the wind under his wings. His feathers were fluttering in the slight breze. It seemed like dancing in the air. He had a gallant figure. The wind was at his mercy. He was it‘s god.
He loved to fly. Feeling the breze slowly lifting up to the sky. It was his escape from this world. This ugly, bloodlusting, dark world. This world was at war. He just wanted to fly. But he couldn’t do that. He was a god. He was supposed to protect his people, act as a guardian deity. He didn’t like thinking about it. He flew quickly as high as he could, as high as the clouds were, lazily floating around. Then he sharply shot down to the ground like a missile. He stopped just a few centimeters from the grass and flew back up. Aaah, he thought, I wish this day would never end.

“Hattori!” he heard someone shouting, who he identified as Hoot, his protector and good friend. His ideal world came crashing down and showing him the cruel truth. Hoot was born around the time as Hattori, so they became good friends. He later became Hattori’s protector, which was great honor, because Hattori was their guardian deity – the materialization of their god of Wind. Hattori was found on top of the sacred Wind Hail – the protector stone of his tribe of the owls of the screeching wind. That was a sign that he was to aide them in the war which was quickly spreading across the whole Great valley.

No one knows how it started, but it spread like pollution or sickness. Not long after, the killing began. Horses, wolves, deer, owls, eagles, elk, crows, bears, boars, cheetahs, lions, tigers and many more creatures suddenly started killing each other, ally or enemy. From the 200 tribes that lived in the Great Valley, Only half of them exist now.

“Who is attacking?” he asked. “The bald eagles from the tribe of The High Mountains. Such cruel and evil birds. I wish we didn’t kill that stupid eagle who wandered into our territory.” Said Hoot. “If someone doesn’t respect the rules, he should be punished. He didn’t leave even after our warning.” He replied calmly. “We have to look after our people too. They killed that owl child without mercy, because it accidentally stepped into their area without noticing, because the children were playing tag. It was flying back, but they caught it and ripped him to shreds before our children’s faces.” He said with a bitter aftertaste in his mouth. The bald eagles were murderers. They didn’t think about who they were killing, they have bloodlust in their veins. We were at a disadvantage. We weren’t prepared, good at fighting, nor did we want to fight. We just didn’t.

“Well. If we want it or not, it’s time to fight!” said Hoot. Hattori felt a tingling. He knew that feeling very well. It was the bloodlust of his origin. Wind was a symbol of speed and majestic beauty, but also a symbol of destroying. Hurricanes and cyclones destroy our nature. They pull out trees with their roots witch destroy houses of small animals, gathering places and bird nest with their eggs. Trees can also fall on animals. Strong wind didn’t let his people fly, because of its power. He didn’t have a problem with flying, because the wind obeyed him, but not the others. He didn’t want to become such a person. Wind is so cold…

He didn’t want to kill. It was against his whole being. But his origin tied him down like shackles. There was a tense silence between them, so they picked up their pace and started flying back to their village, the village of Kaaya.

Sophie