Inkstone

A young white and grey tropeo cut through the air with power and grace. No more was she an uncertain juvenile taking her first flight, she was practiced. She was at home in the skies, so much more than she ever was jumping around the rocks and crags of her nest. Confident, carefree, self-assured, and completely at ease as she coasted over the waves that she was so familiar with.

She angled her wings just so, banking very slightly, her sharp eyes looking out for any sign of silvery bodies darting beneath the water. The fish were plentiful this time of year - Shiloh and Banshee had taught her how to pluck fish from the seas, and had gone hunting with her time and time again as her wings grew stronger. They had kept an eye out for anything large and dangerous that might be ready to snatch a tropeo skimming along the surface of the water, but now she was entirely comfortable fishing alone.

A flash of light caught her attention. Not the glitter of sunlight reflecting off of the rippling waves, but something from below. She glided closer and closer to the surface of the water until the tips of her wings were almost touching it. This was a careful, delicate balance. If she was too far from the water then she would not be able to catch the fish, but if wind suddenly blew up a larger wave, she risked being knocked out of the air and getting back out of the water was a dangerous, difficult chore.

Closer, closer… almost…

The fishing tropeo parted her jaws, just about ready to claim her prize, only to squawk when a flash of black and white raced in and abruptly caused a burst of water to splash up in front of her. She beat her wings in rapid, powerful strokes, trying to halt herself and maintain her height above the water and at the same time climb higher into the sky so that she did not get claimed by the waves. Her pale eyes raked across the horizon and locked onto the thief: another young tropeognathus, mostly white with streaks and blotches of black scattered across her skin and feathers.

Filled with the determination to get her prize back, she pushed forwards and climbed the air after the stranger.

The chase was immediately on, with the fish still wriggling and flailing between the black-and-white tropeo’s jaws, caught in her teeth. The stone-grey tropeo raced after her, rapidly gaining speed and only antagonised into trying to fly faster when the thief glanced over her shoulder with a cheeky look in her pale, yellow eyes.

They were approaching the shoreline when the thief plummeted from the sky, her wings held close to her body. The grey tropeo followed suit, realising rapidly that she was being lead as the thief angled her body towards the boulders and broken pieces of island that were slowly being prised away from the cliffs by the relentless waves. It would be a challenge to follow the thief here, with many of the boulders creating small gaps and arches that opened up to an abrupt stop where more stones jutted out from the sea. The crashing waves, themselves, were an added danger. They followed the boulders and spires upwards, reaching high into the sky to pluck the unwary flyer from the air and drag them into the dark blue depths below.

The challenge burned within her. She was not going to let this thief get away with her meal so easily, regardless of the danger that this area presented.

The thief raced through the natural obstacle course, leading them around the edge of the island. Over boulders, around spires, under arches, through sea spray as a great wave broke against the unyielding stone. The grey tropeo met the challenge beat by beat. The sea spray was cold as she burst through the curtain of foamy water, but the sun warmed her from above, almost seeming to fuel her as she surged forwards. She pulled her wings tight to her body so she could shoot through a narrow archway in pursuit of the stranger, only to unfurl them and continue racing ahead once she came out to the other side.

It was when the stranger started to slow her flight and pull away from the shore that the grey tropeo realised that the race was coming to a conclusion. It was not just petty thievery, it was a grab for her attention - an invitation to fly together, to test her. Now, as they levelled out near one another, it was more of a dance than a race. She followed the stranger’s lead, curious where this dance would take them.

The stranger, fish still held tight in her jaws (though it was no longer wriggling), tilted her wings and arced gracefully through the air, pointing them towards a rocky outcropping that was tall enough that they could land and be safe from the hungry claws of the waves.

They both slowed to a stop, landing upon the damp surface of the stone. There was amusement in the stranger’s eyes as she offered up the fish that she had snatched away from her new companion. The stone grey tropeo took it gently with her beak, curiosity in her pale grey gaze.

“That was some impressive flying,” the stranger offered. “I wasn’t sure that you would follow.”

The grey tropeo flicked her head back and swallowed the fish. Victory tasted good, if this could be called a victory at all. “It’s not like I could let you get away with stealing from me,” she replied, her voice just as teasing as the stranger’s.

“Hey,” the stranger laughed, the pale blue of her mouth briefly visible as she clacked her teeth together. “I gave it back, that’s not stealing. You looked like you were having a good time, anyway.”

The grey tropeo snorted and preened the wet feathers on her wrist. “That was fun,” she admitted, her eyes warm and voice light with amusement. “Maybe we could do it again sometime. I think I could have beat you here, if I had known that this was where we were heading.”

“Please,” the ink-streaked stranger clacked her teeth again, her bravado still teasing. “I’m the fastest in the skies.” Even her markings looked wind-blown, as though she had been flying so fast they had started to blow off her feathers.

“Uh-uh, I think we need to have a rematch if you want to defend your title.” The grey tropeo tilted her head, eyeing the stranger. “I haven’t even seen you around here before. Did you just blow in from somewhere?”

The stranger tilted her head back and flicked her beak back towards the shoreline. “From further up the coast. I thought I’d stretch my wings a little today.” She turned back towards the grey tropeo, a smile in her eyes. “I’m glad I did.”

“I’m Inkblotch,” she offered.

The grey tropeo clacked her beak quietly. “My name’s - “