Night Hunter

Darkness came quicker every night as the winter settled in, and Blanco cherished every moment spent in its embrace. His eyes had always been watery in the daylight, something to do with his pale colouring made them more sensitive than he would appreciate. He managed just fine, he excelled even, but the night was the time he could truly take in his full surroundings. Under the clear, still skies above Outlook Crater, he could see the entire span of the canyon from where he stood at its edge. His lorekeepers had a number of theories about how this crater came to be, but he preferred to keep his mind open to the possibilities. As much as he was a fan of absolutes, Blanco tended to avoid them if he couldn't make a decision with his own eyes. He looked up to find the star that pointed his way and squinted into the swirling cosmos above. It was like someone had stirred up shrimp in a pool, the way clouds of colours backed the thick scattering of stars. The colder the weather, the clearer the sky, especially out here in the canyon where it rarely rained and, therefore, rarely snowed. Even the stars above seemed sharper out here, and the moon was clear enough to bathe the dry rock in its pale light. 

The pale moonlight was a boon to Blanco, otherwise the pitch dark would easily show up his white coat and leave him sticking out like a sore tooth. What added to his new-found alabaster camouflage were the salt flats that made up the southern chunk of the canyon. He had stood out under the eerily large moon and looked down at his pale feet blending into the chalky ground and known this was his domain. He didn’t even take his pack with him on these nights, just silently padded through the blank expanse, keeping his head level to avoid his crimson horns giving him away. In the dead of night, the moon would shine directly onto his back, for about an hour he barely even cast a shadow. Under the stars he made quick, light-footed progress over the salt flats to find the sparse vegetation that grew along its borders. He tempered his breathing as he ran, not letting even his natural processes interfere with the rare solo hunt he got to enjoy. There was a lot to be said for making the pack do busywork like finding food, but it had been too long since life had seeped out between his teeth and he was craving the thrill of the hunt.

The stars were clear enough to navigate by, he knew the patterns from years of study and cross referencing them in the human books he found in the museum of the sunken city. The large tower of the half submerged building held numerous books about studying the stars, detailing the attempts of humans to reach planets far beyond this one. They were mostly useless to him, but the maps he found of the stars had given him peerless navigation abilities at night. Night became his home and the winter months allowed him to extend his influence even further. Last winter the pack had stretched their territory far over the ridge, launching attacks at night and shaking off the low visibility. They had lost some ground over the sweltering summer, his featherless skin fried easily in the sun and without him to lead the charge the others were half as effective as they could be. 

A small cluster of Oviraptors were gathered at the edge of the flats, picking at whatever succulents managed to survive the bleak conditions. Blanco adjusted his gait once more, gliding in long strides until he was already upon the group. His approach was silent and the moon caused just enough glare to hide his pale white feathers. They didn’t stand a chance.

The neck of the Oviraptor was an easy target, the rest of the flock scattered as they knew their comrade was lost. Blanco chomped down again, feeling his teeth obliterate the sinews and tissue and the blood spurted down his throat. It had been so long since he’d had this feeling and he revelled in the dichotomy of light and darkness allowing him to move so freely. He used to dread the dark, feeling it close in around him like the walls of the prison he had been raised in. Now it cradled him like a chilling embrace, hiding him deep within its depths and allowing him to strike from within. He let the Ovi drop to the ground, savouring the bitter air that rolled through his blood-soaked feathers. Blanco looked to the sky, his eyes didn’t water the way they did in the day and he felt he could almost see the worlds that rested beyond the stars, the ones that humans tried to reach. He may never reach those heights but neither had they, and they had lost their grip on this land too, leaving it to entrepreneurs like him to seize. He glanced back at his catch and decided to leave it in the cold. He couldn’t afford to waste a moment of night.