14 Some Lessons Hurt

Destorianaxe banked sharply as she flew towards the beasts, like loosed arrows the four beasts knifed through her prior flight path like screaming daggers. Their wings were tucked in close reducing the wind resistance as they cut through the air with surprising agility. As the young wyrmling steadied herself she got her first true look at the creatures. There were only about four of them but compared to her own size the adults were nearly twice her size with two scrawny younglings that were more her match.

Each looked like a weird hybrid, like some demented being had stuck a fierce roc onto the back end of some great feline. The head and fore legs were distinctly avian with white and brown plumage. A pair of deadly looking claws seemed to be their main weapon of choice, but she didn't doubt those large, semi hooked beaks could do some damage. As for the hind parts, it was covered in matted dirty brown hair, a tail swished behind each darting body. The rear legs were bigger than the fore legs so she doubted that they were as agile once grounded.

Destorianaxe watched the four bank in formation, the largest one took point with its mate on its tail while the two cubs brought up the rear. The most troubling aspect to the dragon was these creatures speed, even as she righted herself to prepare for their next attack run she could well see they outpaced her. Were Talian here, the elf would have advised her to flee, griffins were one of the most easily riled beasts and were almost natural enemies of dragons. While an adult dragon would fare better against an adult griffin one on one, life was rarely so simple. Like lions, griffins often traveled in flock like prides, Destorianaxe was blessed in the fact this was an early pride with two adults rather than a dozen or more. Still two adults versus a wyrmling? Talian would have advised fleeing and praying.

One might think a baby wyrmling a walking, talking beast of death. Such is only partially true. Until a wyrmling grows into their adult scales and learns a bit of magic they had to rely on weaker spells to avoid such a group. Against a pair of adult griffins most young wyrmlings could only pray that one of the griffins strikes would swiftly snap its neck and end the pain early. Unlucky ones would find their spine shattered and limbs broken as they fell to the earth and then were feasted on alive. One can imagine the surprise then on these griffins minds when Destorianaxe did the exact opposite of what years of hunting had taught them should happen.

Rather than flee, Destorianaxe lunged at the smaller adult with a primal roar from her young muzzle.

Destorianaxe however was alone. Her befuddled mind was being pumped with her bloodline that screamed at her to show her aerial superiority over these flying flea bags. Similarly, each near strike was pissing her off, she felt stifled, caged by the quick and brutal hunting style of the aggressive beasts that afforded her but the briefest of moments to breath and even then it was a gulp of air before darting to the side to avoid a set of wicked claws.

Twisting again, her body rolled over on the air as both adults slashed past her this time, one of those wicked bird like talons dragging over her side. The leather like scales split easily awashing her flank in the rich crimson of blood. Destorianaxe winced in pain, each beat of her wings pulled at the ragged wound. Still those two griffins continued to streak past her like a pair of well trained hunting hawks. They were old hands of double teaming prey, a dragon, particularly this youngster would prove no different.

The griffins weren't wrong either. Each pass saw another tear in Destorianaxe's hide, more of her blood spilled from this tears in her hide creating a light rain of spilled blood that pumped from her torn body and fell free of her flying body. Even worse she could see the cubs? Hatchlings? Chicks? preparing to get involved, bored of watching their elders hunt without them. This could no longer go on, while it stung her pride, after the most recent pass her body arched and swung backwards, a graceful somersault in the air as she dived backwards...

This action by the dragon was much more expected. Bloodied and unable to keep up with their speed and teamwork, it was only a matter of time now before they'd have meat for their offspring. The two moved to dive after Destorianaxe when the dragon continued the loop. Rather the use the daring arial maneuver to break free of the tag team attack of the griffins, she had dived back to surge upwards again, her claws wide, her jaws set as she intercepted the larger of the two, its large bird like eyes flew wide as the dragon slammed into its feathered breast. Her claws sank into its shoulders as her maw found the front of the griffins throat. The others screeched in protest but Destorianaxe ignored the cries, her jaws closing, the fresh taste of blood filling her jaws as she bit deeply into the beasts muscled throat and shook her head roughly. Blood fountained across her weary, dark face. The beasts life blood spilled across her muzzle and neck as she yanked her head back and pushed with her foreclaws, tearing a chunk of throat from the griffins neck.

Down the pair spiraled, dragon latching onto her prey with a death grip, her jaws snapping into the ragged wound of the griffins throat, biting more and more bloody meat, tearing the gaping wound ever larger. The griffins mate circled above giving worried screech calling to the large adult that shuddered under the dragons assault. Both mate and offspring watched the pair fall, their impact making the hill shudder. Yet the dragon was the one to rise and shaky legs, perched upon the broken body of the griffin. Destorianaxe looked defiantly at the other beasts and roared in defiance at them. The trio slowly turned away, departing the area swiftly. Without its mate another pride would come to claim this territory, if it was lucky the pride would absorb her... but its offspring likely would be driven away. The sad mournful cry of the griffin echoed in its departure, leaving Destorianaxe to shudder weakly and nearly collapse atop the body of the large griffin.

Laying against its muscled and feathered body she tried to slow her breathing but everything hurt. Between the ragged wounds the beasts had torn into her flesh, impacting the ground while death grip biting this big bastard had only aggravated her numerous wounds. While a great deal of blood around the corpse was griffin blood, a fair share was her own. She recalled at this moment the time before her escape, their sires had brought her and her brother out hunting but made it clear they were on their own. Watching this beasts family if you could call them that, abandon it, it would seem the harshness of her mothers teachings was one shared by many beasts. The weak risked death and being abandoned.

Destorianaxe had thought this cruel at the time but seek the results of one beast failing its hunt... perhaps it was simply natures way of promoting the strong. Had this beast had its way, it would be she herself laying bloody and torn on this lonely rocky hill in the middle of no where. Would her family so quickly leave her to her fate as this beasts had? Considering what she knew of her sires, they'd have probably left even sooner, not even waiting to see who survived the fall, at least this things family had stayed long enough to confirm it had died...

Sighing the dragon rose on shaky legs looking around. This land was so different viewed from down here, while she had never flown this far north before some of the bigger landmarks was still visible. Exhaling slowly she looked down at the carcass beneath her feet, was she really going to try to carry this home? Grimacing she felt her raw wounds aching as she tried to grip its hide and flap her wings. With a shake of her head she could only growl in frustration. Even were she not injured its bulk easily dwarfed her own body by a factor of two, there was simply no way to fly it back to the lair.

Settling on her haunches, Destorianaxe decided to practice a little of what Stares at Skies Vast had taught her. Using her claws to dig into the tough hide the dragon tore at the fur and feathered skin, stripping the carcass of its hide before also claiming its talons and head. Tearing several mire choice organs and chunks of meat she could only wrap her haul in the skin and shakily take to the air leaving the bloody carcass for the beasts. Still every flap of her wings brought agony to the young dragon, the ragged wounds along her sides bled anew, freshly tearing open and losing more precious blood. Still she grit her teeth and flew on back south towards the lonely mountain lair. She was wounded, blooded and battered, but she was returning victorious!

The return trip was far from leisurely, while her mind had wandered on her departure, she now had to focus, pushing her aching body to continue doing what it should, were her determination to waiver it stood a high chance of seeing her fall from the sky. Her body was more wounded than it had ever been, she had lost far too much blood yet here she was flapping slowly as she part flew, part glided home. Her wings desperately just wanted to fold up and stop working, her bloodied side stank and she was covered in the drying blood of her kill. It was that rich, heady scent that kept her mind working, focusing on moving her wings in powerful flaps. To fall into the plains below would be a fall she did not recover from, she had lost a carcass out here once, the plains folk had stripped it bare before she could relocate it in the tall grass, she shuddered to think what those savages would do if her body dipped into the tall standing grass...

The sun had fallen beyond the horizon before Destorianaxe approached the lone mountain, a silent moon illuminated the north face of the spire exposing the entry to her lair. As she came in for a landing her claws found no purchase on the ledge sending the dragon stumbling, crashing heavily against the tunnel wall leaving a disturbing red smear as she slid against the solid support and limped slowly inwards dragging her grisly package in her wake. As she stumbled into the main room, Stares at Skies Vast gave a soft squeal, "Hurt the Mistress is! Tall Talian! Wake up! Mistress needs us she does!"

The elf tossed off the hide blanket he had been comfortably laying under looking towards the bloodied dragon with a frown, "Just what did you pick a fight with dragon?"

Destorianaxe smirked yanking the impromptu hide sack to the forefront, pushing it towards the elf with a smug but pained grin, "You tell me, I fought a group of them, slew the largest."

Talian looked at the bundled up hide suspiciously before gingerly opening the bloodied bag, thanks to his reflexes he was able to avoid being doused in a deluge of blood that had gathered inside from the raw meat inside. Still when the griffins bloody beaked head was revealed the elf looked at her, "You? You killed an adult male griffin?"

Destorianaxe gingerly limped towards her bed laying down carefully, "Griffin huh? Yeah, I was distracted and flew north, a family of them attacked me. I got lucky and managed to kill it. The trio with the beast fled after seeing my victory."

Talian shook his head waving to Stares at Skies Vast, looks like no rest for us tonight. Please see to the meat and such, I'll try and heal her wounds."

The albino kobold warily eyed the large eagle head and swallowed, that beak alone was large enough to snap her up like a swallow would gulp down a worm. Still she was quick to see to the meat, while Destorianaxe had no concept of amounts, what she had dragged back was enough to ensure full bellies for a decent time frame. She carefully separated the various pieces and set to work to store it while Talian approached Destorianaxe.