The Mountain That Moves

“Come away from the edge, pebble,” came her mother’s soft voice. There was the faintest note of concern to her tone. If her hatchling fell, they would most certainly be able to pick her up in their beaks and bring her back - it would just be a matter of whether or not her tiny hatchling body survived the fall.

The stony coloured hatchling, patches of white just barely beginning to crawl across her feathers, lifted her attention from the crashing waves below back towards her parents. Others knew them as Shiloh and Banshee, but to her, they were the loving presence and gentle words of comfort and familiarity. Warmth against the freezing wind that forced its way past her hatchling down when it blew up from the ocean waves, food from the sea whenever her stomach started to think about being empty. Their presence was as constant as the roar of the ocean, but far more comforting.

Shiloh clacked his beak quietly in approval and preened his hatchling’s tiny feathers when she settled back down in their nest, which was crammed amongst the crags and snarls of rocks that hung over the frothing water. She squeaked quietly and contentedly, happy with the affection.

Her beak parted in a yawn, her tiny teeth impossibly sharp but ultimately harmless to anything bigger than a minnow.

Shiloh glanced towards Banshee, a faint look of concern in his eyes as well. They had chosen a treacherous place to nest, but with good reason. He only hoped that… she would grow quickly, and grow strong. Her first flight would be dangerous - potentially lethal, if she could not make the flight away from the cliff and out over land. Larger fish patrolled the ocean, with mouths full of wicked teeth, waiting for young birds and pterosaurs alike to crash into the water.

“Wanna story,” their small, spotted hatchling chirped as she nestled into Shiloh’s soft feathers. She liked to cuddle with her mother as well, but Banshee’s feathers were thinner and not as warm, and their little pebble seemed to be cold. Banshee spread her wings slightly to dampen the strength of the wind and interrupt its path to their hatchling.

Their little one's first flight was something far away, so for now they could put it far from their minds. Right now, they had smaller problems to worry about, with far simpler solutions.

“What do you want to hear about, pebble?” Banshee asked, her voice light with amusement. She had an idea of what story was going to be requested already.

Their little one nestled even closer against Shiloh, until she was barely a patch of grey and white lost in a sea of his pale, spotted belly. She thought for a long moment, raising her head and opening a bleary eye just enough to show that she was putting serious thought behind what sort of story she wanted to hear about. Maybe something scary, like the crashing waves that would eat her if she strayed too close to them. That sounded fun.

“The black clouds,” she chirped.

Shiloh clacked his beak in amusement once more, giving Banshee a knowing look. That was hardly a story that would put her to sleep - they both knew that she would be awake for several hours after, both too scared and fascinated to sleep. “You’ve heard that one before,” Banshee chuckled. Several times. Proabably enough times that she could recite it from memory all on her own at this point.

“Again,” their little one insisted. Shiloh got comfortable and huffed, a light sound. Again, then.

Banshee chuckled again and got comfortable, herself, making sure to keep the wind at her back as she protected the pair of them from its cold bite.

“The humans called it ‘volcano,’” Banshee began. “A mountain with no top, just a pit of fire in its heart as it spills ash and rock into the air. We know better. We know that it is alive.

“There are those with no wings that call it ‘Great Horn’ and believe that it is a styracosaurus buried deep under the ground and ocean with only its nose horn poking up, but we ask those silly dinosaurs - where is its frill?

“It eats, and it bleeds, and it breathes, just like we do, but it is no dinosaur, and certainly not a giant styracosaurus. It is a monster.”

Their hatchling turned her head away from Shiloh’s feathers, one of her pale grey eyes wide open now and focusing on Banshee as she spoke and told the story of the monstrous mountain. Shiloh gazed at Banshee with fondness in his eyes as she continued.

“When it breathes, black clouds pour into the sky so thick and poisonous that it chokes the life out of those who try to fly through it. The blood that pours from the monster is hungry and eats everything that it touches, even stones - even the ocean which it spits out in ferocious distaste, even its sibling.

"There are two mountains on this island, pebble, and only one of them breathes black clouds now, because it killed the other.

“When it has eaten especially well, it will spit rocks out of its top which rain back down on everything it has devoured - stones that are skeletons, leftovers of its meal. They land on blackened earth and mangled rock that crawls further and further into the sea as it eats the salt water. Nothing is left behind after it has eaten but ash, and a great black scar.”

“Can I see it?” their little one whispered, her head fully turned towards Banshee now, enraptured by the story that her mother told. “The black scar.”

Shiloh withheld a sigh and clacked his beak gently. It was… dangerous to fly to that side of the volcano. The wind could suddenly shift, and carry with it a deadly, choking poison. Accidentally flying through a cloud of hot smoke had so badly damaged his throat that it had almost killed him, and left him unable to speak even to this day.

That was why they told her these stories, even though they were frightening - they wanted to make her cautious of these dangers. They were not entirely certain that it was working, if she was instead fascinated by them.

“Maybe one day,” Banshee mused as she preened the air above their hatchling’s fuzzy head. “When your wings are strong enough to carry you to the other side of the island, we might go see it.”

Satisfied for now, their hatchling settled back down and waited for the good part, which Banshee and Shiloh both knew was her favourite. The monster of the mountain was scary, but it stayed on its side of the island during all these parts. It was when it moved that it was terrifying.

“There are times when slowly eating the land is not enough. The wounds in the earth pour more of the volcano’s blood, eating as much as it can - and even that is not enough for the hungry mountain. It gets so hungry that it must open its mouth.

“The very ground will crack and open up to swallow more and more. The dinosaurs without wings cannot even escape its hunger and they are snapped up too. It eats everything it can and more, belching out thick black smoke that blocks out the sun and stars and raining down skeletons, dropping pieces of the island in the water in its haste to consume until the ocean itself rises up to wash its hunger away in a colossal wave and then - the monster rests again.”

Their hatchling shivered lightly, but it was not because of the chill this time - it was real, genuine fear. Fascination warred with worry - she had wings, but all they were good for right now was helping her walk from place to place. She could not yet fly.

Shiloh nudged her very gently with his beak and croaked quietly, a comforting sound despite the roughness of what remained of his voice.

“But it’s just a story, pebble,” Banshee soothed as her beak joined Shiloh’s in gentle nudges of their hatchling. “The black scar is real, and we will take you to see it one day if you really want, but the volcano has not moved in a very, very long time.”

Not since they had earned their freedom and taken up residence on the island. It was really all just speculation by the humans, and a fun, if frightening story for young ones. There was no evidence that it would ever again blow its top quite as spectacularly as the old, worn photographs of their old, worn facilities suggested.

Comforted by her parent’s gentle words and soft, assuring nuzzles, their hatchling settled down again. Her imagination was alive with visions of the monster Banshee described, but she was safe and comfortable here between them. With the wind blowing the smoke that the volcano breathed into the air towards the opposite side of the island, she rested peacefully, knowing that her parents would not let any monster get to her here.