Friday, June 14, 2013

Changelings - Part Eight

Normally, I'd wait a bit longer before posting the next part, but I'm excited to get to that new thing I told you about! :D
I now present to you the eighth and final part of Changelings. (Final for now.)

Part 8 -
The continued Tale of the Half-Changed – As recorded by Oren Fleethoof:

The eve of their departure, the leader of the settlement, whose name was Corag, insisted they stay long enough for a village wide farewell festival.

“There will be dancing and singing and food like you've never seen!” He told them.

Talon sneered, showing his fang-like teeth. Corag tried not to cringe. Oren Fleethoof and his friend Terra Redtail seemed nice enough, but this... Talon Silver... seemed slightly, well, wrong somehow. There was just something about him that didn't sit right with Corag.

“We would be glad to come.” Oren said graciously.

As Corag left, Talon growled something under his breath and Terra, who had heard what he said, punched his shoulder.

In a flash, he grabbed her wrist and snarled, “Never strike me!”

Terra wrenched her arm away and glared at him in disgust.

Oren frowned at him as well. “That was unnecessary, Talon.”

Talon's irises were gold-tinted, but the whites of his eyes were bloodshot. “Maybe you don't realize what truly is necessary, Oren Fleethoof.”

With that cryptic remark, he strode away.

“Something's wrong with him, Oren.” Terra said quietly.

“I know.” Oren gazed after Talon thoughtfully. “I just can't figure out what.”

That night, true to their word, the settlers threw the largest party the changelings had ever seen. The dancing was spectacular, the singing was superb, and the food delectable. The only thing missing, Oren and Terra slowly realized, was Talon. Corag noticed too, but honestly, he didn't really mind.

“It's so rude!” Terra hissed to Oren. “He should be here. He doesn't have to dance if he doesn't want to, but he should at least make an appearance.”

Oren agreed. “But where could he be?”

Terra thought hard, then said, “The clock tower. That's where he is. He wants to see the inside of the clock before we go.”

“You're right.” Oren got up and excused himself to Corag. Then he went to find Talon.

Sure enough, Talon was sitting in the clock tower, staring at the gears as though mesmerized.

“Talon!” Oren called, coming in the door at the bottom of the tower. He couldn't see Talon yet.

“We were to attend the celebration, not brood away the night in a dark tower.”

“Have you ever tried brooding, Oren?” Talon's voice was deceptively calm, not coming from any definite direction. “It does wonders for clearing the mind.”

“If you wanted to brood, why didn't you stay home and do it in your cave then?” Oren returned.

Talon let out a barking laugh. “There's nothing there for us changelings. I see the possibilities here and I must brood on them.”

Oren began to climb the stairs that wound up around the inside of the clock tower. “I've seen the possibilities as well. We must take word of them back to the colony. We could be so advanced!”

Talon laughed again. “Then you've obviously not seen the possibilities. We can do more than bring word. We can bring the inventions themselves.”

Oren searched for Talon's form in the darkness. “No! Have you taken leave of your senses!? We can't just take what these settlers have worked so hard on!”

“What you're saying is, we shouldn't. There's not question whether or not we can.”

Sighing, Oren said, “Come on, Talon. We have to get back to the celebration. You can discuss your ideas with the Council when we get home.”

“You're practically on the Council!” Talon snapped. “You know what they'll say.”

“Yes, I do!” Oren roared, finally losing his temper. “You will come out of your hiding place and come with me now, Talon Silver!"

Sé onr sverdar sitja hvass!

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