LarkFeather's Story

         I want to give all readers this note before you read what Miss Skyford made of my tale to her. This is my life, and as such there will be no censuring to be found. What Miss Skyford has written is true to my past (with an occasional substitution for things I cannot recall in perfect clarity), and my past is full of blood, battles, gore, and passion. For any who dislike these, I suggest you place this book down now. If these things do not bother you, then please continue and learn my tale.
         I have lived a long life, one that outlived many of my closest friends. At times I felt as if the universe itself didn’t want me to continue, but I pushed on. It is thanks to this perseverance that has landed me where I am today, living a relatively easy life, with a name renown for it’s owners abnormality. In the pages of this book, you will find my journeys recounted with the beautiful fluidity of Miss Skyford’s words, taking my past and putting it to paper in a way I could never achieve. She has truly captured my emotions perfectly, and correctly emulated my past experiences. With my thanks to Miss Skyford, I am happy to reveal my story to the universe for all to see.

         There was fire among trees. The night sky was turned red from the burn, with embers flying and spreading the blaze further. All through the thick jungle, animals ran for cover, screeching and cawing. Other creatures ran through the flames, screaming war cries, holding spears aloft and swords swinging. Amongst the chaos, a child sat abandoned, eyes wide with fear as the fire grew closer and screams of pain rang. An enemy noticed the child and smirked; an easy target. The enemy stalked through the ferns, ignoring the flames licking at his feet.
         The child saw the enemy approaching, but made no move to run. He wasn’t able to, paralyzed by fear. The enemy lifted his sword, prepared to decapitate the child, but was stopped when a flash of light shot through his chest, leaving a hole where his heart was.
         The enemy fell over dead in front of the child, who looked behind himself to see a robot running towards him, holstering a gun. He bent down to be level with the child, and held out its hand to him.
         “Come little one. I will take you to safety.” The voice, despite this man being made of metal, wasn’t very robotic. Something about this weird thing mad the child trust him, so he took the hand and the robot man lead him away from the flames.

         “Where is his sire?”
         ThornRaker tilted his head in confusion, and Mr. Galvin sighed. “The child’s father and mother! His parents?” That sparked ThornRaker’s useless reply.
         “ThornRaker do not know! ThornRaker not keep track of other Floran’s seedlings! Move metal man! ThornRaker need to rebuild house.” Mr. Galvin sighed and let ThornRaker pass, pulling the child closer.
         It was a few hours after the raid and the fire had finally died out. With the blaze gone, Mr. Galvin had started his search for the little boys parents. So far, he hadn’t gotten anywhere and the little boy still hadn’t spoken. So he went up to the next Floran, asking the same question and getting the same response. Tried of repeating the same thing over and over, and headed for the war-chief's hut, where the chief himself stood, holding tight to the head of an enemy he’d cut off and boasting about it to the warriors surrounding him.
         “SkullCrusher! I need to speak with you for a moment.” The war-chief turned to face the robot man, not looking pleased at being interrupted.
         “What want metal man?” Mr. Galvin refrained from correcting the horrible grammar of the war chief (even if he hadn’t he wouldn’t be able to change it since the Floran language was very rudimentary).
         “Do you know this seedlings parents?” He asked, pushing the boy out from behind his legs. The war chief looked down at the child and nodded his head.
         “That Neebi DeathApple and Sebira SawSpike seedling. Both dead now.” That wasn’t to shocking for Mr. Galvin. After all, they’d been battling in a raid. “SawSpike strong warrior, died while fighting two at once.”
         “Of course. Well, did they have any brothers, sisters...?” After a moment of thought, SkullCrusher replied.
         “No; both were only seedlings. No other kin.” That made SkullCrusher pause. “That mean he tribe child now. Take him to Needola. She take care of it.” Mr. Galvin knew about tribe children. They were bounce from home to home, each Floran in the tribe taking their turns raising them. While they weren’t neglected, they were not treated very respectfully. Also, Mr. Galvin had seen the innocence in the child’s eyes, and he wanted to protect it.
         “No that will not be necessary. I will care for the child.” SkullCrusher shrugged, not really caring what happened with the seedling. After all, he was a skimpy little thing that was much to sky and quiet to be a good warrior. Having the metal man take care of him would make less problems for him. Not concerned about that matter anymore, the war chief turned back to his warriors, holding up the head and shouting that none would ever defeat them.
         Mr. Galvin led the child away as the warriors shouted victory shouts, shaking their spears in the air. He kept walking with the child until he reached his ship, and stopped in front of it.
         “You still haven’t told me your name. Can you do that now?” The kid kept staring at him, and Mr. Galvin tried again. “Name? Do have name?” This still showed no recognition, so Mr. Galving sighed. While the glitch was thinking of how to get the name from the boy, the little Floran was watching as a bird flew in a circle above them. It chirped and flapped its wings, flying lower and straight at the boy.
         Mr. Galvin watched in fascination as a bird he knew to be a Lark landed on the Floran boys shoulder, tweeting and playfully peaking at the boys leaves. The boy giggled and pet the little bird gently before it flew off, making the boy watch it fly away sadly.
         Mr. Galvin watched as well, and saw a feather fall off the bird falling to the ground and landing almost right in front of his feet. He bent and picked it up, twirling it in his fingers.
         “Well, for now, I believe it only fitting to call you LarkFeathers.” He spoke in his natural english, making the boy (whom Mr. Galvin would now refer to as LarkFeathers) looked at him in confusion.
         “That English.” Mr. Galvin said in Floran. “You learn, LarkFeathers.”
         “LarkFeathers?” The child asked.
         Mr. Galvin nodded and opened the door of his ship. “Yes, you LarkFeathers. Now lets go inside.” The Floran child looked at the sky where the bird had disappeared, before running after the robot man.