Stormy

Stormy was fond of hunting rabbits, he decided. He liked wearing his little hood and feeling sleepy. And he liked the young girl who named him for his cloudy coat and taught him to strike like lightning.

That young girl hadn’t had much time for Stormy recently. A petting and a feeding with meals, but rarely did they find rabbits together these days. She had started hunting bigger prey and left him behind.

Was Stormy not big enough? Not brave enough? Or did the young girl outgrow her pet when she started turning into a woman? Stormy had some doubts about himself, and they were making him restless.

But what’s this? A ray of sunshine walking through the door, the young girl smiling at him and wearing her big glove. Stormy knew what the glove meant, but after such a restless wait, he wanted to hear her say it.

“Up, Stormy.”

Yesss.

They walked out of the small room, Stormy occupying the seat of honor carried about upon the young girl’s wrist. Other birds didn’t get to sit on this glove. It was his glove. Blue sky shone above, a fine hunting sky. In the distance was a man in a leather coat and ratty clothes who smelled like straw. Probably a farmer.

“Okay. Let’s see if you can follow this one. Hunt, Stormy.”

Oh gosh there was probably a rabbit for Stormy somewhere. He cocked his head in every direction, looking about excitedly, pumping his wings a bit. But he didn’t see anything to hunt, just a farmer.

“Don’t like that one, huh? We’ll need to teach you a word for people, I guess. How do you like ‘Attack’?” The young girl gave him a bit of rabbit and some pats when she said the word Attack. Stormy liked learning new words. He was the best at it.

It was once she started getting clever and hiding the rabbit inside the farmer’s face that Stormy got frustrated. He’d have to go through the farmer’s face to get his treat! Why is she saying “Attack!”?

But she nodded and cooed his name all the same when he tore into the man’s face, ripping out his stuffing and laying bare the rabbity morsel within. Stormy flew back, feeling shaken by his callous violence until he ate more rabbit from the girl’s hand.

As if by magic, the girl walked over and tore off the man’s head, straw spilling from the farmer’s gaping wound, and put a new head on him. Stormy’s little mind was completely blown. But he knew there was rabbit inside the next face. He knew.

He was ready for the next “Attack!”

Up a Level

Stormy

The Legend of Welanica MaxGiesecke