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GroundWings belong to me.


"Talons dug into my back as I swung my head around to look at who the attacker was....My white, brown-tinted eyes tried to combat the crazed electrifying violet ones. I snarled and forced them off, aware of exactly who it was....Which other GroundWing was permitted to have the sharpest of talons?

Nobody.

Nobody was permitted to have such weaponry on them and I knew that....Of course, nobody on record in this century..."


Wings of Ground is to tell the tale of the incoming animus pair as well as the journey throughout the life of a single GroundWing. Many topics will be covered from the tribe itself.

Enjoy reading!



Preamble



Rudeness is the weak man's imitation of strength.
Eric Hoffer


"One." His voice was rough due to his elder age. His frown remained plastered upon his snout as his blue eyes flared up at him. He growled lowly. "One is going to be the hero. The other is going to try and stop the hero, Sir." He bowed respectively for his king nonetheless despite being slightly angered.

"I see it happening, the two of them." The animus elder continued. He was the last one of his own. He clutched two eggs in his talons, recalling the dragonet who killed his comrade. The eyes of the elder fluttered shut. His mind clouded with memories that flickered by quite quickly. It seemed as if only yesterday he broke from his egg in order to serve the tribe - to serve side by side with his comrade.

It was only the beginning of the Spring season with the heir growing closer and closer to her taste of the throne. Tremor was aware of the suspicion in the atmosphere once the dragonet was dragged into the court. He could hear him faintly. The sound of his comrade Strand struggling to stay alive as the crazed youngster hacked away at him with her talons and teeth. One last roar that echoed and gave out, the look on his face as talons from the crazed dragonet sliced through his scales once more had pained him.

Then anger boiled beneath his scales and muscle. The fear that coursed through the younger, abstruse dragonet was very well present as he towered over her in attempts of using intimidation to his advantage. A low hiss mixed with a growl emerged from his throat as his fangs were bared.

Tremor never wanted to kill one of his kind, let alone harm at all.

The memory was cut off immediately with an echoing plead for mercy scarring his mind. His eyes opened again, with his entire being feeling weakened. It took all of his strength to maintain his stature as calm, cool and collected.

"They'll damage the tribe, one of them will, the other will save everyone in an act of pure kindness and justice that even I could not supply. Patience, Sir." His words fell like a waterfall as his eyes burned upwards at the king. "It'll come soon. Destruction, and peace."

"Patience."



One



I'd rather be hated for what I am rather than loved for what I'm not.
Kurt Cobain


> WIP. <