Day 72 of Summer, AV 510 Time: Dusk |
It was obnoxious. Ruin, the self-proclaimed King of the Zith found himself shifting his head repeatedly, each sound of the ever lively Jungle catching his attention. Every insect rattling, every bird fluttering in the nearby treetops, sometimes just above him, sometimes hundreds of paces away. The Zith sat quietly on the large branch, his large dark brown furred wings wrapped comfortably around his body as he watched, listened waited. What was he waiting for? A hunter. It wasn't often a predator hunted another predator, especially in their environment, but the Zith had a problem. The Sea of Grass proved to be too easy, boring, unchallenging. He heard of rumors from a few, long passed, captives of his that Myrians of the Jungles were 'formidable'. Ruin didn't know the word, at least not spoken in the common tongue, but he figured it to mean strong, since the rest of the story pointed towards it. The Zith had to see it for himself though. Since he was the ultimate hunter, he thought, he had to prove it in every region of the world. Falyndar was the first on his list. |