Flying Buddies

Dawn had freshly broken across the islands when Oboe noticed the sound of soft footsteps coming from outside her small shelter. Said shelter was nothing more than a large leaf draped over a rock, giving the hatchling tapejara just enough room to nestle into the gap for some resemblance of safety.

The black and white tapejara froze. Still a hatchling she could barely fly, requiring take-off from a high up place. Unfortunately, she had crash landed last night when attempting to flutter up a tree. Thankfully, nothing was broken, but it still hurt.

The footsteps sounded again, along with what sounded like… wing flaps? Oboe froze, tilting her crested head curiously. While she was new to the world, she had already learned the difference between the sound of feathered wings and the wings of other flying reptiles. This seemed to be the latter, and they were very quiet and frantic- much like her own whenever she took into the air.

Before she could ever consider poking her head out of the “den”, a soft thud and pained sound carried through the air. Curiously Oboe let her beak slowly slide out of the shadow until she could spot the source of the sound. The sputtering only got louder as she finally found the source of the noise. 

There, face down in the mud a bit down the forest from her den, was another hatchling tapejara. They were also dark in color, although that was hard to tell from the mud absolutely coating their feathery body. Loud, angry chirps escaped the other hatchlings' mouths as they attempted to stand up, everytime slipping as the mud underneath them caused them to lose their balance and face plant into the ground.

Slowly Oboe inched out of her shelter, interest peaked. Carefully and silently she approached the other hatchling, stopping just before her wings touched the mud. “Need help?” Her voice seemingly startled the other hatchling, causing them to squeak in alarm and faceplant in the mud. Oboe resisted a cackle at the embarrassing display. She wanted them to like her. 

The other hatchling scowled at her once he finally found his feet, but Oboe could barely take it seriously with the way mud dripped from his crest. “Who are you?” The mud-covered hatchling asked suspiciously, flapping his wings a bit to free them from the mud. Oboe stepped back to avoid the resulting mud splatter, to the others disappointment. 

“I'm Oboe. Need help getting out of there?” Oboe restated her original question calmly, the other hatchling seeming more embarrassed at his situation than mad. After an almost invisible nod she stepped forward into the mud, careful to move slowly in order to keep her balance. Once she reached the other hatchling Oboe made a gesture with a beak. The other hatchling quickly caught on, leaning against Oboe long enough to catch his balance before creeping out of the mud. 

Letting out a hiss of relief as his claws touched less muddy ground, the hatchling darted forward out of Oboe’s reach before spreading his wings, rapidly flapping them to get the mud off. Oboe had to dodge backwards once again to avoid the muddy spray, soon flapping her own wings in order to get the clinging mud off. 

“...thanks.” The other hatchling grumbled, yellow eyes turning to Oboe. “I’m Bassoon.” Bassoon seemed in a much better mood now that he was free from the mud, Oboe noted. The other hatchling seemed curious more than embarrassed now, Bassoon quickly hopping forward into Oboe’s personal space. “Where’s your flock?”

Oboe blinked. “My flock?” She trailed off, scrapping at the ground with one of her forewings. She had been hatched alone, her egg seemingly abandoned in a rushed nest on a raised spire out in the ocean. It wasn't until starvation almost set in that she had been forced to make the flight to dry land, and accept that no flock was there for her. “No need for one.” She finally settled on saying, holding her head up in a prideful display. “What were you up to, anyways?” Oboe quickly changed the subject, ignoring the look the other was giving her.

Bassoon grumbled, flapping his wings again and splattering a few drops of mud on the grass. “Flying. Or. Well. Trying to. I got at least some height this time, I swear!” The purple hatchling didn’t seem injured, the only thing bruised being his pride. And even then, barely so.

“Oh! I'm trying the same!” Oboe perked up, the pain in her wing all but gone now as she felt excitement rush through her. A flying partner. “My favorite take off tree is right here!” She quickly scrambled over, sinking her wing claws into well worn grooves in the tree as she scrambled her way up. Once the black hatchling reached the first branch she paused, looking over the side at Bassoon a good distance below her. 

“Climbing?” The other seemed surprised and a bit horrified. “We aren't mammals! It's so… so…” Bassoon seemed to struggle to find the words, before his curiosity seemingly won over. “How do I get up there?”

Oboe used her wing to gesture at the deep grooves in the wood. “Use your wings to grapple on, then boost up with your hindlegs!” The other hatchling looked sceptical, but a distant roar spooked him enough to quickly scramble up. It was clumsy and undignified, and by the time Bassoon made it up Oboe was struggling to hide her laughter. She quickly managed to pull a straight face as the other hatchling turned to her. “Good, but we need to go higher!” At the resulting groan she snickered, quickly latching back onto the tree. “Race ya to the top!”

Of course, Oboe won. However, she was pleasantly surprised with how close behind her Bassoon was- the other hatchling had a talent for learning fast, she would give him that. “Woah…” the other hatchling breathed out, looking over the view. Here, in the tree, they towered above the forest. The sun was setting in the distance, casting an orange glow over the leaves and turning them gold. The two were silent for a moment, before Bassoon shook off his daze. “What are we waiting for! Lets go!” With a shriek he dove off the branch, Oboe gasping before following.

“Wait for me!” The two dove through the air, clumsy and flapping their wings fast but still elegant in the way only a flyer could be. Together they whooped and hollered, twirling and playing in the air together. Having a flying partner was much better than flying alone, it turned out.