Saturday, September 24, 2011

The Writer, Fighter, and Logical One

Here's another version of Star Rider, the second chapter.
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Down in a tavern built into the roots of a large tree, the robins were drinking their rum.  It was mid eve and the sun sunk lower into the white-capped sea.  The pretty little stars of night were just beginning to uncloak themselves.  The trees creaked and moaned as the first of the northern winds shook them.


            At a table near the corner of the tavern, a couple of robins talked.  They spoke in low whispers as if they were trying to conceal something.  ‘I hear she is returning this eve,’ one of the robins said.
            ‘Yeller sent her out already?  Ah, no!  Not possible.  She would have bid her farewells,’ said the second robin.
            ‘Of course he didn’t send her out to her freedom you nut brain!  She went to the sea to observe the stars, you see.   She was gone with Yeller for the past couple days, watching those shooting stars,’ said the first robin.
            ‘She calls them meteorites, not shooting stars.’
            ‘Who gives a damn!  Either way she was gone, and now she returns.’
            A silence folded over the two robins.  They both glanced around the tavern keeping watch of the other robins.  Over near the entrance of the tavern, a rather large bird appeared.  He was a grackle.  The first robin tensed as the grackle glanced in his direction.
            ‘Len,’ the first robin sneered.  ‘That fool.  That shiny, black, sick-minded fool.’
            ‘Rain, you beat him once.  Why does he return?’ said the second robin.
            ‘I cannot say,’ said Rain.  ‘All I know is that he wants revenge.  Aye, he will get his revenge—in his scared little dreams!’
            Len began to approach Rain, his feathers puffed in triumph.  Rain stood up and planted his claws in the ground.  Len then spoke.
            “Aye, my little robin friend.  I forgot your name since it is quite unmemorable,’ said he.  Rain only smirked.  The little orange fathers on his breast slowly puffed out as well.  He then spoke.
            ‘It goes to show how stupid you are since you can’t even remember the word rain,’ said he.  And with that, the grackle snarled and unsheathed his glimmering sword.
            ‘You will get it, little thing!  I’ve waited long enough for my turn to win.  By winning I mean—.’
            ‘Killing him?’ another voice said.
            The crowd of robins that were watching this whole scene turned their heads to see a mysterious blue bird wearing a black velvet hat.  Len swerved and caught sight of the bird that had spoken.  He growled.  Above his growl, the bird in the black velvet hat continued to speak.
            ‘I’ve heard these speeches many a time.  I must say, revenge does grow dull.  It is only but a one-time inspiration, lasting only as long as a mayfly on a winter’s day—not that long.  Perhaps it lasts longer.  I guess it depends on one’s personality.’
            The mysterious blue bird lifted her head and smiled slightly.  ‘Perhaps you wish to be counseled—Len, am I correct?’ said she.
            ‘I will not be counseled!’ Len screamed, and he charged at the blue bird with the fire of anger flashing around him.  With ease, the blue bird dodged his blow.  He crashed into a table piled with wooden mugs.  He became unconscious almost immediately.  The mysterious blue bird stared at the grackle for a moment before turning to Rain who stood there with eyes as wide as two full moons.
            ‘Excuse me if I ruined your chance to destroy this fellow,’ the blue bird said.  ‘I only did what I thought was logical.’  And she bowed.

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