Aquila & Craonos

“Hello?”

The call and loud fuss break through the calm, warm moment Aquila shared with her newborn bonded. Aqua and yellow eyes snap open, ridged muzzle leaving the smooth, white narwhal’s skin as she jerked her face towards the source of the words. Too-large eyes narrowed slightly as they glared warningly towards the many-horned unicorn; the other was right to approach with caution—Aquila, apparently, was possessive.

Unblinking eyes ticked carefully between each horn that sprouted from the other’s skull, assessing their sharp, red points carefully from the distance the grey mare kept between them. Aquila’s own, many barbed tail rattled softly in warning—though the distance held and the other mare remained curious rather than threatening in posture, a “Cool whale,” confirming the other’s lack of threat.

Scaled ears flicker around uncertainly, horned head slowly raising, “Balenokorn,” was her throaty correction to the other, “Not just ‘whale’.” In contrast to Aquila’s wary actions, however, the newly born Craonos flipped wobbly through the air in newborn exuberance and delight. He slowly drifted out towards the grey mare—though Aquila’s outstretched muzzle herded it close back to her striped chest. So the creature’s dark eyes peered out towards the newcomer, warm and wise and curious.

However, the cautious acceptance Aquila extended towards the large, thick woman was shattered by powerful wingbeats and a loud, clumsy landing. Ridges along the sea-mare’s neck stood on end, ears pinning flush with her skull as her scaled lips peeled back to reveal sharp teeth in warning to the winged predator that surely was there to eat her newborn companion.

Except it wasn’t a predator. It was a pegasus—a colt, not yet even a yearling.

A long breath pushed out of her nostrils, willing the suddenly taunt ridges of her skin to relax. It had been a long while since she had been this jumpy on land. Her long stint beneath the waves, added to her newborn Craonos she must protect, had the militant mare on edge.

A single blink was given at the bay, yellow-marked boy who grinned so widely at her, the narwhal, and the unknown horned mare. Scaled ears twitched once at the onslaught of energetic questions and excited energy that rolled off of him.

“Bonded to a balenokorn,” she, again, corrected in her throaty voice after waiting a short silence to ensure that the colt (’Iskra’) had finished speaking. “’Iskra’?” she repeated his name—liking the sound of it; it reminded her of an Akvian name, the first time something in the common tongue had reminded her of home, “I am Aquila, and this,” her bladed, aquamarine horn motioned towards the pale narwhal calf, “is Craonos.”

Though her eyes widened as she finished the words, for the calf in question was gleefully floating away from Aquila’s protective chest. Enjoying its momentary freedom, it wobbled through the air towards Iskra, its uncoordinated flight possibly causing its smooth, aquamarine-tinged skin to bump into his feathers, before it looped and flipped towards the horned mare.

A slight coo left it’s infant chest, quite at odds with the anxious terror on Aquila’s. “Where is your egg?” Was her forced question, attempting to be interested, but truly her gaze and attention was zeroed in on the aimlessly floating narwhal.

the language of waves