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12-21-2015, 06:22 PM
The migration pattern had changed and the pod had moved on without her, as ailed as she was by disease and old age. From within, her stomach fluttered in both pain and anguish, her heart slowing in defeat despite the fear that plagued her. She’d been beached, unable to summon the strength to return to the ocean’s depths after being abandoned by her family. It was not often that orcas severed their familial ties, but the old blackfish had strayed from the pod after suffering from an erupting stomach ulcer. The pain had been to great and too consuming for the whale to keep pace with her younger children and grandchildren… and she’d ended up there upon the beaches of Helovia.
She recalled the days when she helmed the winter migration and hummed a deep sigh that reverberated across the sand. The orca was not so fragile as to be wary of land creatures, at least not yet, but her strength was ebbing and her tired eyes were closing. She needed rest, of that she was certain, and perhaps food, even if she’d find no such comforts above the ocean’s tide. Again the elder attempted to rock free of the sand-bed she’d made upon pushing up toward the shore, but with no luck or sign of her return to the sea.
It was then that the whale spotted a creature, one with wings and icy blue eyes, and she wailed in panic and distress. She did not want to die this way, she did not want to die. “Come child,” she soothed, her vocals cracking until she was lulled into silence again. Upon her tongue was the faintest trace of blood, but of course the old hunter was unaware of her impending doom. She had fooled herself long ago that she would overcome any illness of the flesh, because her heart was in fact still strong, still beating. “-help me.”
She recalled the days when she helmed the winter migration and hummed a deep sigh that reverberated across the sand. The orca was not so fragile as to be wary of land creatures, at least not yet, but her strength was ebbing and her tired eyes were closing. She needed rest, of that she was certain, and perhaps food, even if she’d find no such comforts above the ocean’s tide. Again the elder attempted to rock free of the sand-bed she’d made upon pushing up toward the shore, but with no luck or sign of her return to the sea.
It was then that the whale spotted a creature, one with wings and icy blue eyes, and she wailed in panic and distress. She did not want to die this way, she did not want to die. “Come child,” she soothed, her vocals cracking until she was lulled into silence again. Upon her tongue was the faintest trace of blood, but of course the old hunter was unaware of her impending doom. She had fooled herself long ago that she would overcome any illness of the flesh, because her heart was in fact still strong, still beating. “-help me.”
@Cirrus
