Moonspear rendezvous

✴        That was it—the creature had been awake and yearning to satiate his hunger for too long, and impatiently waiting for the next round of food-stuffs to come fill his belly up. It had probably only been ten minutes since his last feeding, but the future leviathan was never happy about his meals. He was always gluttonous for more, and found contenment in stealing away from his slumbering brothers and sisters whenever the chance arose.

Today, he was awake and roaming without them. They were food-drunk or slumbering, he wasn't sure and he wasn't mindful enough to care; but Revui had wandered out of their little hideaway and in to the open light of the spring sunlight, feeling the warmth of it and finding it pleasant in its own right. He felt invigorated by this need to eat. The boy waddled and rolled his way along until he came to a steep (at least to himself) declination in the surface of the ridge, and peered over it without so much caution as perhaps, boredom, as if he expected a larger obstacle for his mightiness to overcome.

A few reaching limbs later, and he was petering very close to a good face-first tumble; but he managed to brace himself with his forelimbs on the other side, and was left with his silver-toned rear end stuck upwards like the empty end of a see-saw. He cooed, he muttered, and eventually began to crow loudly for assistance—his little voice suddenly very loud and reaching like the rest of him, calling all manner of attention down to the foolish child that had misjudged his abilities to scale the tiny bluff.

Unfortunately for Revui, the first thing that took notice was a large bird of some sort. It's feathers flashed red and gold overhead as it soared, and upon seeing the glint of his mercury-clad tail flipping about in the light, dropped from its high altitude and came to rest in a nearby treetop. The hawk watched idly as the child struggled, but did not make a move—yet.