The Story Of Tiercel and Onyx.
Part 1. The Taking.
       
Nine leagues all told.
Nine leagues since daybreak.
Nine leagues well worth it!
      Tiercel stood by a gate, the one to her back lane. Four o'clock that morning she had passed out of that very same gate. Four o'clock - nine hours ago. Still, it was the height of summer and the days were long. They were long enough to have plenty of time, and Tiercel knew just how to use it.
       Her legs were grazed and bleeding, her hands tight with lines. In a worn leather bag by her waist laid the reason for her grazes and tired yawns. One ravenous bundle of fluff.  Amber-eyed, the young falcon chick scrabbled in its search for food.
    Leaning against the gatepost, Tiercel popped the chick on top and held its gaze. The creature blinked, considered her for a moment, and began an incessant mewing. It piercing, plaintive wails cut through her, so she put it back inside the dark bag to calm its fear.
    She would feed it when she got in.
The trip hadn't been a particularly hard one, but it was a long way to the craggy sea cliffs of Dorthmar, and her water had run out fast. Her mouth was parched by the time she got there, but it didn't deter her. You didn’t need your tongue to climb cliffs. Up high in those ledges, crowning the harsh, sea swept cliffs, lay the nests of royalty. Peregrines.
   The success of her folly kicked her in the stomach.
   The climb had been challenging, but enjoyable. Besides, which was the more important? The destination or the journey?
  Her leather bag had been specially chosen for this venture. It was stout enough to put up with heavy wear and tear, with strong, hardwearing leather stitching. But inside it was padded with a coarse felt, into which the chick now nestled.
     The peregrines wouldn't miss him - he was the smallest of the three she had found. Ahead of him lay seven months of apprenticing - the training of hawk to lure, to her voice, to the whistle and to the shout.
    But for now, she'd put on its first set of jessies and feed it.
     A smile spread across her face as it finished squeaking, and she opened the gate.
                                                        Part two:
     'Hrr-Wea?' 'Wea-wea?'
   "What was that Onyx- do you want something to eat?"
Onyx bobbed his head, and then set to work nipping Tiercel's leather gauntlets.
   "Oi! They're expensive! Here you are, amazing eyesight, the flying agility of a dragon! Yet you pine for food because you can't be bothered to flush a sparrow! You're an amazing flyer - I've seen you around the yard. What excuse could you possibly have?"
Onyx nipped a little harder. The leather stitching broke, and he shot a foot out to grasp it.
  "Ruddy bird!"
Onyx turned his head to look her in the eye.
'And?...Your point is?'
Shaking her head, Tiercel cast him off.  The little falcon climbed high, and circled around the orchard. It was on a narrow strip of land on a steady upwards slope. A stream fed its bottom while a wood clothed its top. He knew that wood well.
  One of his favourite games was to dash at breakneck speed through it, flitting from tree to tree, racing Tiercel.
  There was also a nest of wasps. One of his best days had been spent zipping through them, enticing them into giving chase. He had lead them in a merry dance around the Dratherian  countryside, before dispersing the swarm by flying through chimney smoke. A good summer that was.
   Rounding the orchard a fourth time, Onyx landed in a decrepit, gnarled oak. He sat there a little while and admired the view.
A small whirl of movement caught his eye. It was Tiercel swinging the lure on its hemp string. Knowing what was required, he took off and made a low dash down the valley towards her. He caught the lure as it approached the top of its curve, and slammed it to the ground.
   Tiercel watched her little peregrine take the lure with pride, knowing it was her own effort and training that had produced such a confident bird. She made in to the falcon slowly, crouching low to avoid startling him. To be honest, it was unnecessary. Onyx knew her well and trusted her. It was mere habit. Still, she crouched low and offered a piece of meat between the thumb and forefinger of her glove.
  Quick as a flash, he hopped up. She took his jessies in a riding-rein grip and stood. Despite today’s reluctance to hunt, he had flown well. It was all she could ask. Not everyone can be on top form 24/7.
  She stopped by the back gate and perched him atop the post, just like she had a year ago. This time, however, he didn't scream.
Instead, he surprised her by launching off and arrowing down the valley. Spinning, Tiercel scanned the sky to see what had taken his fancy. She grinned. Not a mile off, and lazily doing summer-sults in the still, cool air, flew a magnificent crimson dragon. Through the tentative mental link she shared with her closest of friends, she too reveled in a shared passion for flight. By the time the dragon had taken its leave, she  had a thundering heart and surging adrenaline, laced with a hundred new thoughts and feelings. Still feeling a little dazed, she wandered back in with an exhilarated Onyx perched on her wrist. Whatever their feelings that morning, the two still loved each other more than ever.

Part three.

The crack of thunder rolled through the house. Onyx took fright, and hid in the safest place imaginable. Underneath the sofa.
  Tiercel entered, slamming open the oak door. She stood, dripping, in the middle of kitchen.
  “What a wretched night, eh Onyx?”
At the sound of her voice, Onyx took enough courage to peep out.  Tiercel watched the little head with a smile of amusement.  A dismayed Onyx sank back behind the sofa.
   There was something soggy dripping in his master’s kitchen. This soggy thing sounded like his master.   
  Oh dear.
   Onyx had the awful thought of Tiercel staying soggy and falling into little pieces everywhere. Just like that bit of bread he left in his water bowl once.
  For the little falcon, already terrified by the sudden flashes and loud booms, the night had just got a little worse. That is, if it could get any worse when your already hiding under the sofa. With an inward sigh, he wriggled out (rather un-elegantly), and took flight. A moment later he was perched on Tiercel’s shoulder. Wincing as the talons took hold, she turned her head to look him in the eye, the leaned across the fire place for a flint and tinder. One, two, three, four strikes later, and she had re-lit her rather battered hurricane lamp.
  “It went out just as I reached the hen house. Poor things are soaked through. I got an extra bale out the loft and spread it round. We’ll have ta check them in the morning.”
  With a sigh, Tiercel stripped off her Barbour coat and hung it by the fire. She got it lit, and realised she didn’t have enough logs for the night. Grumbling, she picked up her coat and ran out to the wood shed to split half a dozen more. Onyx flew to the doorstep and watched, peering out through the murky gloom.
Onyx didn't do wet.
A little while later they were both in the dry, and Tiercel’s waxed Barbour was once again hanging by the fire. It filled the room with a musky ‘wet coat’ smell.
Stretching out on the sofa, she soon fell asleep. Onyx took advantage of this by snuggling down in her lap. Blissfully unaware of the chaotic weather around them, the two slept `till the light hours of the morning.

The story of Tiercel and Onyx. Part 4. Into The woods.
________________________________________

This chapter is for Kris and Frodo the ferret.

The game trail sneaked through the forest, winding on as far as you could see. Trees pressed in on every side, and the smell of pine permeated the air. A ferret gamboled along, moving as fast as its lopping gait would allow. It hunted. Several strides behind, and not quite as silent, a boy followed.
He wore an armless leather jacket and white cotton top beneath- atleast it had once been white! Days of dirt and grime stained it... Below were trousers, brown, and a faded leather belt. The belt carried a normal, everyday, practical knife. And a not so everyday dagger.
Across his back he wore a worn, much loved bow, and a quiver of equal age. In his right hand he handled a walking stick- though with no obvious use for it. So it seemed.
The other he raised to his mouth, and a shrill whistle followed. Lifting its head and pricked its ears, the ferret turned and lollopped back. Bending down, he grasped it in both hands and raised it to his face.
The ferret took this in its stride, looking upon the familiar face with a steady gaze. Its beady black eyes met with green, then darted to take in the wild brown hair- and the scar that stretched from left ear to bottom of cheek.
The boy gazed too, into the creatures eyes - and saw his own looking back at him. He held his reflection a moment, before speaking to the animal.
"Good work Topaz. We have come far- and it won't be long before we leave Tion." He gazed around warily before continuing: “You just carry on as you were- and let me know of anything before it knows of us."
With a sigh, he placed Topaz back on her feet. She bobbed her head once, to show she understood, and they set off again.
It didn't do to be careless in Tion. The forest was dark, and an easy place to become the hunted.
There were no birds to be heard, no flowers to add colour to the place. The few rays of light to break the canopy only emphasised the murky gloom. It wasn't a cheerful place, and not one to stay long.
He followed her a long time. His head would whip around at the slightest noise, his hand darting to the belt, the old walking stick being grasped a shade tighter. Invariably however, the noise was nothing more than the 'wish-wisk' of one or two black crows.
The crows had followed them for days, generally keeping out of sight. But just when he thought they might be gone, one or more would fly ahead. Merely to reassure him they weren’t going anywhere. An uncomfortable thought popped into his head. They ate carrion.
Evil things, crows were. He'd seen them peck the eyes out a mire-bound sheep before, - many a time... He would prefer to shoot them- but the gains were too small. Their meat was evil, and he couldn't afford to risk losing an arrow. He had few enough as it was.
Resigned to it, he sighed again. They were least of his troubles. Hi flight had been a long, desperate, drawn-out drag.
Dire wasn't a place to stay for any length of time- especially not in times like these... A war in the borderlands of the province had dried up the best of its trade, and the town’s people were getting desperate...
With the war spreading his way, he thought it best to leave by the quickest route possible.
Unfortunately that meant Tion. The forest of Tion was ancient. Brooding. Malignant.
He cast his mind back to the tales of his childhood. Many century’s before, some lord or other had sought a queens favor. He marched with his men through the forest, in-order to reclaim some obscure lands for the thrown. They simply disappeared.
A flicker caught his attention. A different shade of dark, dashing through trees ahead. With a curse, he thumbled for his bow, having it knocked and drawn within the space of two breaths.
"DON'T!!" came a cry.