Age Underestimates Youth

Tyrfing · 11-15-2020, 09:52 PM

So the horses had been a bust, but Tyrfing was taking it very well. So he wasn’t the all-powerful, titanic force of nature to be reckoned with. He wasn’t the mightiest warrior to ever step foot in the land, and he sure as heck wasn’t on his way to Odin’s Hall anytime soon for his stunning feats of bravery. Not yet, at least. There was still time, and the lion-hearted pup was still very fresh out of the den.

While he wasn’t a sore loser he did feel the sting of embarrassment that he’d lost his first prey, so surely that meant he only needed to work harder to collect his actual first prey. Really it was an honest mistake, the horse had been just slightly too big and he’d misread his Gods’ message. Fin was still convinced they were trying to tell him something, just maybe that something wasn’t how to take down a foal on his first day out of the den. Now however it was more like his third day out of the den, and dammit was he going to bring home a prize or he wasn’t coming home at all.

First stop was back to where the herd was grazing, for he surely felt some sort of presence from the Gods when he was there. It was a lot harder than it sounded in his head to find the location a second time, and Fin was glad he’d opted to wake up early for this adventure so his time wouldn’t run short like it had his last hunt. Eventually he (thought) he found the place, maybe, and toddled on through the grasses with his nose to the ground for evidence.

A soft buzz sounded overhead and Fin spun, his tail flagging high in the air and his purple striped legs spreading wide in alarm. The sound intensified, faded, intensified again, and faded once more. His dark ears perked, swiveling to try and track the sound to it’s invisible source. A flash of purple swept atop his head and he bounded forward, snapping his teeth into the air to try and catch it but suddenly it was gone again. His lips peeled back and his eyes narrowed, hunting this mysterious creature with all his effort when suddenly he saw it, hovering above a bush.

It was a tiny bird, mostly black and grey except for it’s chest and wings that shone a bright and iridescent purple. Fin glanced over his shoulder at his own purple-tinged spine, spinning as if to catch his tail and watching the way his colors glistened in the light. The effect was similar, and when Fin looked back at the small hovering bird he tilted his head in curiosity.

The bird rose up, hovered a moment and began to circle the bush from above which it flew. Fin’s brows furrowed, his head cocking as he took in the sight. Then it’s tiny beak shot downwards, it’s head dipping in an unmistakable motion. The pup continued his questioning stare, but slunk forward.

For each step forward the wolf pup took, the hummingbird backed itself up a fraction of an inch. Eventually the scent hit Fin’s young nose and his nostrils flared. Food! He could hardly contain himself from leaping, but with his eyes upon the hummingbird was able to find his center and relax. The pup continued forward slowly, until his paw was near to touching the foliage and then he leaped.

Feline paws unsheathed their claws, coming down upon the bush together as hard as he could manage. Beneath his paws he felt a wriggle, heard a startled peep, and he clenched all six toes down so that his claws might curve into his prey. The rich metallic scent of blood was familiar enough from the meals his mother had started him on, his mouth beginning to water as he realized the success beneath his paws. Carefully he inched backwards while keeping his paws mostly in the same position, until he’d drug the dying field mouse out from the foliage and into the open.

Happy chirping sounded from above his head and Fin looked up to see the hummingbird once more, a grin tugging at his maw. “Thanks little buddy!” Beneath his paws the mouse still squirmed and while Fin was holding on as tight as he could, he wasn’t sure he could keep it contained. Not long enough to show his mom and dad, at least.

Finally just as it was squeezing out from between his toes the pup reached down with his jaws and clamped his teeth upon it’s small torso. It took only a sharp squeeze before the mouse had stopped moving, though he crunched it one more time for good measure. Then, believing it truly dead, he released his prey to look down on it proudly. “Good job, me.” He told himself, his purple laced tail beginning to wag hard behind him.

He looked up to congratulate the hummingbird again, but it had vanished once more.

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Age Underestimates Youth

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Tyrfing