Chapter Text
Victor’s blood seemed to run cold as he traveled back with the hunting party he had been sent with. The winter’s wind seemed to freeze each individual bone in his body. He stretched his wings, sure they would freeze if he kept them so stiff. To his dismay, he and his friends were not able to track down anything, likely that any moose or deer had headed away from the forest to find a warmer home for the time being. Victor had begged his father for what seemed like forever, begging him to move the clan to a more warmer area, as his friend Chris does with this clan. HIs father, stuck in his old ways, of course reminded him once again that they were arctic wingkin, creatures meant to bear the snow and freeze to death, apparently. It was incredibly obnoxious, and Victor had sworn that the moment his father passed and he took over as chief, he would lead his clan to a much more inhabitant area.
Above him, the other in the group were bickering, obviously annoyed at not being able to catch anything, forcing them to go hungry once more. Usually when it came to it, the clan would hunt other wingkin, those under them, but all the others had flown south in order to face a much more tolerable winter. This, of course, left only scraps left by wolves to be eaten. It annoyed Victor, the fact that their “elite” species was forced to act like scavengers.
Huffing, he pushed onward, wanting to get home and settle in this nice warm bed. The sun was just beginning to set, throwing up beautiful orange and red gleams that set the icicles on fire. It seemed to radiate through the woods and almost made Victor feel warmer. However, he knew that he had no time to waste. Getting back home would be near impossible in the night, the subzero temperatures would surely kill any of the, even if they were designed to inhabit these types of conditions. He called out to the others:
“We need to hurry fellas, we can’t be out here at night. “ He growled, sweeping his stiff wings in a single motion.
The others nodded and picked up the pace. Being an alpha wingkin had its perks. The others followed his every order, making it very easy to get things done. Of course this had consequences, if what had happened in the past would have anything to say about it. Sometimes, an alpha would use their influential powers over others, forcing them to do their bidding. Victor shuddered at the thought of forcing their young to fight, or teaching them how to fly before it was time, watching them plummet to the ground. He remember the tales his father used to tell him about, about the terrible, power-hungry leader that had once ruled over this frozen wasteland. He had been told that the wingkin had once been a wonderful, compassionate leader, but had witnessed something unimaginable, that had sent him into his power-driven mindset.
Victor could not imagine what he had seen that would force him to throw their young over the edge before they had even started branching. It was a sickening thought, and Victor could almost hear the sickening thud as they fell to the ground. He had witnessed a few accidents in which the same thing occurred. If a chick was not careful, they would so easily fall off the edge of their nest and fall to the ground, all without their parent’s knowledge. It was a terrible tragedy whenever it occurred, Victor couldn’t imagine someone doing it on purpose, it was practically murder.
A shout sounded up ahead, breaking him from these dark thoughts, he looked ahead and saw him men standing a few wing-lengths from where he stood.
One of them stepped forward, his great golden wings standing proud. “Come on then, Victor. Telling us to hurry when you are falling behind.”
Blushing, and not from the cold, Victor ran forward to stand, once again, besides his men. “ Sorry about that, I was getting lost in my own thoughts.”
“Don’t mention it Victor.” The wingkin with the golden wings, Ivan, smiled. “We’re quite used to you and your scatterbrain. We’ve been hunting with you for what, five years now?”
Victor whacked him with his wing as Ivan laughed and flapped away. Ivan and him had been friends since they were kids. Being an alpha himself, Victor could never get Ivan to listen to him, but he found it somewhat nice, to be able to joke around with a friend without having to worry them about making sure to treat “royalty” with respect. It honestly annoyed him, having to constantly remind some of his friends that they didn’t need to be so formal around him, but they never seemed to listen. The other wingkin around them glanced at each other, doing their best to not look uncomfortable as the alphas joked around with each other. Oh how Victor wished they would join in and not stand like trees.
He looked back and smiled. “Come on, let’s get back home.”
Everyone nodded and they began their trek once again. He heard one of the younger wingkin complain about not being able to fly back home. Victor understood his frustration, but it was just a fact of life that they had to deal with. When it was this cold, no wingkin would stand a chance in the frozen air above them. The trees made a sort of barrier that they were able to hide under. Above the canopy, great winds and sheets of ice raged, as though the winter demons his mother’s stories held had come alive just to cause misfortune for wingkin. He ruffled his feathers at the thought of flying in that hell. While walking down here was a pain, flying home was not worth dying over.
And so they walked, dragging their feet through the snow drifts. Without being able to fly, they had not gone far from home, but it was still a trek that none of them wanted to partake in, especially after a day of unsuccessful hunting. He sighed and willed himself to continue forward. Waving his wing, him and his party continued onward.
~~~
The sun was nearly set by the time Victor caught scent of the nest. His men let out a cheer as the quickened their pace, eager to get home. Victor smiled and followed. On their way back, they had been able to ambush a rabbit burrow, and got a hefty haul. Victor was grateful that they were able to bring back anything at all in this winter, even if their ten rabbits would only be able to feed ten out of the hundred wingkin that lived in his clan. It would have to do though, he could only hope that the other hunting parties had been more successful.
As they approached the camp, a weird smell washed over Victor. He lifted his wings, stopping his party’s advancements. “Do you smell that?” He asked.
The others soon picked up on the strange scent. A young wingkin with pale yellow wings, named Theo, wrinkled his nose. “What is that?”
Victor shook his head, indicating that he did not know. “Stay here, I’m going to check it out.”
The others nodded and Victor, laying down the rabbit, followed the scent. It seemed to lie west of where the nest was situated, but whatever this was being so close to where the nest lie, worried Victor. He was not sure what it may be, and prayed it was not something that would call threat to them. With the little food they had, they didn’t need any competition.
He slunk his way through the snow, keeping his wings and blades free. They were his greatest weapons. He continued onward and stopped every-so often to make sure that he was on the right track. The stench grew stronger as he padded threw the woods. He happened upon a giant ditch in the snow.
The ditch looked as though it had been created by something falling. Victor’s blood ran cold as he saw the feathers and blood marks that stained the snow. Gulping he followed the trail of feathers, that lead him to a clearing. His breath caught as he took in the sight of what had created the trail. A smaller wingkin was laying in the snow, so still Victor was sure he was dead. His wings were bent and misshapen so much that it made Victor cringe and flap his own wings unsteadily. The frost on the other’s wings made it clear that he had been flying, and judging from the ditch and the trail, riddled with blood and feathers, he quickly caught onto what had happened.
This reclus wingkin had been flying and his wings froze, plunging him down to the ground. Images of the dreadful king flashed through Victor’s mind, causing him to shutter. Gulping, Victor approached the figure to get a better look. Upon getting closer, he found the wingkin to be a younger male. At first glance, Victor assumed he was an arctic wingkin like himself, but once he got closer, Victor saw that that was not the case. He gently lowered on the ground. No, this wingkin was not one he had seen before. His wings, even while so bent were obviously much smaller than Victor’s. As well as his body shape, everything was so different from one of his own..
He reached out a hand and gently laid it on the pools of inky, black feathers. A small moan made Victor jump as he quickly withdrew his hand. Blinking, he leaned closer. The smell hit him at once and he scrambled to his feet, backing away as far as he could. This wingkin, whatever it was, was an omega. They were said to be very rare: Victor had only ever met one. A prince and his father had come to see him and his family when he was young. Victor could distinctly remember the rancid smell that drifted off the prince, and it immediately made Victor feel sick. He had told his mother and father who had laughed and told him that the prince had been an omega. A very rare type of wingkin, one that they hoped Victor would mate with one day.
It was not in Victor’s best interest, as his parent’s kept telling him. He could hardly think anything that smelled like that was something he should be interested in. They did not meet the prince and his father again, and Victor was happy for it. But now, glancing down at the omega that lay in the snow, Victor felt something he did not think he would ever feel for this creature, pity. He sighed and shrugged off his coat, immediately puffing up his feather, trying to escape the harsh winds. He trudged over to the fallen wingkin and gently wrapped his coat around the other, attempting to make him as warm as he could. Then, as gently as possible, he lifted the other up and brought him close. The omega was so pale and small, he weighed less to nothing. Victor was worried he was too late, until he saw the small puff of air coming from his mouth. He still had a little time left. Pulling the boy close, he trudged back towards where he left his friends.
When he finally found them, bundled together against the cold, they stared at him wide-eyed. “Come on then,” he said, interrupting the questions he was sure stood on the others lips. “Let’s get home.”
They continued onward, their once gleefulness at being so close to the nest replaced with silent, unreadable feeling. Victor shifted the boy a few times, a small moan escaping the other as they continued onward. Arctic wingkin were not known to rescue others of their kind, they were seen as cold and standoffish, not to be messed with. Chris was the only other wingkin he knew that wasn’t apart of his nest. No one would have thought an Arctic would find it in themselves to rescue such a small wingkin that could otherwise have been used as a good meal.
The idea of treating this poor omega as a meal just felt wrong to Victor. He was obviously not one of their own, but with his deathly pale skin and shivering figure, he was obviously too weak to defend himself properly, and it just felt wrong to Victor to utilize what the omega could not control.
Finally, the party reached the base of the gigantic oak tree that held their nest. Theo and Ivan nodded towards him, flying up, carrying their catch. The last party member, a silent older female nodded and shook her dark grey wings, tipped with white, before following. Victor sighed and looked back at the forest, the sun sinking behind the mountain that reared up in the distance. Holding the omega close and making sure he was secure, Victor spread his enormous wings and pushed up in the foliage to where his nest awaited.