Farnol deflected the attack with a blow of his fist. The pelgrane bounced off the wall and hit the floor, to the tootling merriment of its siblings and the full-bellied mirth of its dam.
“Can you do better?” Another winged gesture.
A second juvenile launched itself at Farnol’s legs. He kicked it aside, and fresh guffaws arose around him. A third flapping attempt was similarly thwarted.
“Children, I am saddened,” the mother pelgrane observed with patent untruth, for she still shook with laughter. “Your predatory performance leaves much to be desired. Now, attend. It is always best to take the prey unawares, but when that is impossible, you must take care to seek the points of vulnerability.” Perching herself upon the edge of the nest, she leaned forward to point a precise wing tip. “Here — the neck. Here — the belly. The groin. And finally, never underestimate the utility of the knees, when approached from the rear. Thus and so.” Her powerful wing smote the specified joints, buckling Farnol’s legs. A shrewdly angled shove toppled him onto his back.
At once, the three nestlings were upon him, their combined weight pinning him to the floor, their abominable odor foul in his nostrils. In vain he struggled to dislodge them. Their baby fangs scored his limbs, and he felt the wet warmth of blood. Little squeals of joy escaped the infant pelgrane.
Farnol’s desperate eyes sought out the mother, who sat watching with an air of serene domestic contentment. “A warning, madam!” he exclaimed. “Know that I have swallowed a potent bane, no doubt deadly to your kind as it is to my own. Would you allow your offspring to gorge upon poisonous provender? Think well!”
“Indeed. I think that I have never before heard this particular tale, and be certain that I have heard many. How gratifying to discover this old world offering fresh experience. You are correct, however, in noting the children’s need of guidance.” She raised her rasping voice. “Little ones, desist! Do not consume the man before you have had full use of him. Further practice is indicated. Desist, I say.”
A protesting din arose.
“Again,” said Mother.
This time, the three of them worked together, launching themselves simultaneously at his face, his abdomen, and the back of his neck. He beat them off at the cost of much effort and considerable blood, then slumped against the wall, exhausted. When the energetic youngsters launched a renewed, well-coordinated attack seconds later, they pulled him down with ease, and would surely have devoured him then and there, but for their mother’s intervention.
“Not yet, children,” she admonished. “But it should not be long. Your progress is noteworthy, and you have made your mother proud!”
Night fell, and the nestlings composed themselves for slumber, huddled in a malodorous heap. Mother seemed likewise to sleep, but evidently retained some awareness. Three times during the course of the night, Farnol attempted to climb from the nest, and each time she roused herself to forestall him. At last, he fell into a miserable, fitful slumber, filled with dreams of inner fire. He woke at dawn to find that his dreams reflected reality. The heat had spread from his midsection to scorch its way along his limbs.
The pelgrane were awake, infants bouncing, mother flexing her great wings.
“I go forth to forage,” she informed her brood. “Today, it is easy. There is still plenty of meat left on your good father.”
“Meat! Meat! Meat!” the gleeful infants shrieked.
“What — you feed upon the flesh of your own family?” asked Farnol, startled into speech.
“It would be a pity to let it go to waste. What, shall I demonstrate ingratitude, even incivility, in refusing the most beautiful sacrifice that any male can offer on behalf of his mate and his children?”
“And this beautiful sacrifice — was it altogether voluntary in nature?”
“Such a query can only be regarded as unseemly.” Mother reproved. Her attention returned to her young. “For now, I leave you alone with the — what, sweet ones?”
“MAN!” chorused the nestlings.
“Just so. You may play with him, but take care, for he is not readily replaced. When I return, I expect to find the—”
“MAN!”
“Alive and free of major damage. Otherwise, I shall be cross.” So saying, she launched herself into the air and flapped away, wings creaking.
No sooner was she out of sight than Farnol commenced climbing the nest wall. When one of the juveniles seized his ankle, he kicked the creature aside and hoisted himself to the rim, whence he caught sight of his belongings — garments, pouch, sword and scabbard — scattered about the ledge. As he swung one leg over the edge, the three small pelgrane set upon him. Their skills and coordination were improving by the hour. Farnol resisted with vigor, but they swiftly dragged him back, threw him down, and seated themselves respectively upon his chest, his stomach, and his thighs.
One of them took a small nip out of his shoulder, swallowed, and squeaked in pleasure. Another bit a similar morsel out of his leg.
“Enough, pernicious vermin!” Farnol cried out in desperation. “Devour me at your own peril — my flesh is toxic.”
“Pah, we are not afraid!”
“We are pelgrane, we can digest anything!”
“You will see!” The speaker tore a small shred of skin from his back.
“Your mother will be cross,” Farnol essayed between gasps of pain.
This consideration gave the infants pause. A doubtful colloquy ensued, at the close of which, the largest of them decreed, “Play now, eat later. The Man will run to and fro, and we shall bring him down.”
“Play, play!”
The nestlings hopped from Farnol’s body. He lay motionless.
“Come, get up and run about!” they exhorted.
“No.” He did not stir. “The three of you will only knock me down again.”
“Yes, that is what we intend. Come, play!”
“I will not. Shall I tell you the reason? Your game is too easy, fit only for feeble babes. It presents no challenge to fine, well-grown youngsters such as yourselves. Would you like to play a game demanding of skill, a game worthy of future hunters? One of the most prized accomplishments of the adult pelgrane resides in his ability to drop rocks, clods, bricks, and the like upon his quarry from above, stunning the prey at a distance and thus facilitating capture. It requires a keen eye, a steady talon, coolness, and precision. I wonder if you three are ready?”
“Ready, ready, READY!”
“Very well, then. You will drop or fling objects, while I seek to evade. The items must be light in weight, however, lest I be crushed, and your lady mother correspondingly vexed. I noted a number of suitable items lying scattered about the ledge, outside of the nest.”
“We shall secure them — make ready to commence fruitless evasive action!”
The infants were capable of brief, low flight. They flapped and glided from nest to ledge with ease. For some moments, Farnol heard their voices racketing on the other side of the wall, and then they were back, clutching assorted objects; a stone, one of his shoes, his pouch. Briefly they swooped overhead, then simultaneously released their burdens. He took particular care to dodge the stone. The shoe grazed his shoulder in falling, and the pouch hit his head squarely.
“I win, I win!” One of the nestlings squalled in triumph.
“I shall win next time!”
“No, I!”
They vanished, and reappeared moments later. Two rocks and his other shoe rained down upon him. He evaded all. Clods of comparatively soft mud followed, and now he judged it wise to let them hit. Mud spattered his shoulders, face, and hair. High-pitched squawks of victory resounded.
“I concede.” Farnol lifted both hands in good-humored defeat. “Had they been rocks, I must have succumbed.
