Bird and the Wurrm

He opened his eyes, blinking the world into view. He turned this way and that so that he could take it all in. He stretched his wings as he chirped to his neighbors. What few stirred told of a golden dawn and an open sky, perfect for the hunt. He fastened his trappings and prepped his feathers, hopped to the edge of his perch and looked to the silvery slice of light peeking over the horizon. A new mist hovered above the ground and a new wind whispered through the leaves. With his eyes closed, he took a deep breath and fell from his high branch. As he fell through the air, twisting and spinning, the ground burst through the morning mist and shot up to meet him. He spread his wings and let the air pull him up high until he leveled out. He flapped his wings and pushed higher into the treetops, bobbing and weaving through twigs and branches and shot through leaves like a bullet. He burst through the canopy and fluttered above the sea of green that stretched on and on into the breaking dawn. He stared back at his home as a strange thought overtook him. His mind couldn't entertain such thoughts though, for he was the early bird afterall. He glided through wisps of cloud and watched as the sea of green transformed below him into the brown lands. A wide open land sparsely littered with thin gray trees that scraped at the sky with thin twisted fingers and thorny bushes that grew as wide as a tree top. The muddy ground and deep puddles were fertile ground for the hunt. 
 
He soared about the sky and found a good landing position below. He was excited to see that he was the only bird in the sky or on the grounds. The first. The earliest. His feathers rose a little in pride and he started to slow to begin his descent. He spiraled down into a particularly large thorn bush and laid out his tools on a dry patch of fissured earth at the base of the bush. As he pieced his spear together, something in the corner of his eye grabbed his attention. A dry, mummified mouse lay against the twisted roots of the bush, reaching out to the empty air. He wondered what the mouse was pointing at.  He followed its reaching finger with his eyes and saw a small nest tucked in the lower branches of the bush. His curiosity overtook him and he fluttered up into the nest. It was empty except for a single dull black feather. He flipped it and saw its fluorescent underside, so colorful that it initially scared him. There was an expectation that it might blind him or be a trap of some kind. However, another moment passed and nothing happened. He blinked, enraptured with its beauty he decided it would come with him. Whether it was luck was uncertain to him. He swept it into his beak and tied it onto his back with a bit of leaf hemp he had on his belt. The sun hung low in the sky as he re-emerged into the open, a crow was poking about in the mud. There wasn’t any doubt for his catch; therefore, he quickly snatched up his spear to flutter to the open mud. 

His angry twittering was ignored by the black bird, making him twitter more. The crow cawed with dismissal of the tweet and continued poking about, his yellow eyes never leaving sight of the muddy ground. Offended, he flew a few flutters away to another spot. Little did the crow know, he was prodding the wrong spot.  He began his toil shooting harsh and sharp glances at the black bird, but his gestures went unnoticed. As he pushed his stick deep into the mud and swiveled  it around, he noticed a shadow emerge from behind. Instantly, he jumped, dropping his spear. It was the crow, standing and staring with his beak ajar. To what is the black bird staring at, he asked himself. The crow answered by nodding to the feather. He pulled it around to his front and looked at it clearly, the colorful side was exposed, appearing quite beautiful in the light. The crow cawed, receiving a tweet as a reply. The crow pulled up a satchel from under his wings and showed his shiny wares. Curious, he pushed his neck out in order to better see what all was in the sack. There were pretty stones, colorful buttons, bright strings, glistening beetles, and in truth, a wad of useless junk. The black bird pushed through most of it, shuffling the tangled mass about in the big satchel. His feathers were ruffled as he pulled out a small iridescent orb that glistened and winked in the pale morning light. As he looked into it, he felt as if he was pulled into a deep gust of wind. There was twirling and swirling in a flood of color and mute sound. He blinked. The world came back to him. The crow looked sure of the trade for he cawed its pleasure. He thought it over for longer than expected, but decided a bauble like that was more dangerous than useful; therefore, he declined with a tweet. With a shuffle and flurry of feathers, he hopped back to the spot where his spear laid pressed in the mud. The crow squawked its incredulity, but didn't seem disappointed. He left it there to stare into the orb squawking and cooing softly to itself. 

Some time passed and the mud began to dry and crack under the heat of the rising sun. It was imperative that he find it soon or else he would go home empty taloned. He poked around under the thin shade of a gray withered tree, when all of a sudden,  something pricked at his senses, causing him to look up There, against the greying sky, perched on the only branch of the old tree, sat a massive holy bird. He bowed deeply to the bald necked holy one. A long and deep screech came from its curved beak. He didn't understand what it meant; therefore, he tweeted a question. A raspy arrrgh gurgled from its naked throat as it shifted its weight on the branch and stretched its massive wingspan to eclipse the sun. It was then, he understood. Nonetheless, he could not leave no matter the danger, for he was the early bird afterall. The holy bird's cold eyes shot to the feather on his back and another long screech broke the silence. It bowed to him before it smoothed its white collar against its black feathered body and jumped from the limb, sweeping over him in a gust. His eyes followed the holy bird clear over the empty blue sky as a boom of thunder sounded across the distant sky and moisture filled the air. He watched the bird disappear into the horizon and his eyes fell back to the ground where he saw a small lump in the mud. He hopped over. It was a satchel. The crow's satchel, he realized. He swiveled his head all around and saw a bush here and a tree there but no sign of the black bird. He picked up the satchel and shook it. Beetles, string, and other junk fell and plopped in the mud. He wondered about the orb as he slung the empty satchel under his wing and hopped away from the pile of crow junk. Suddenly, a drop of rain fell to the ground, gradually quickening its pace,  and sending him toiling in the downpour. 

The heads of small soft worms wriggling about in the mud as it got thicker and harder for him to walk in. They would be easy prey and soon his thin toes would be packed with muck, but he pressed on for there were bigger worms to catch. He poked down this hole and swirled around that puddle until his spear caught on something, it was a ball of worms. Wrapped all about each other, he picked up the mass and wiped the worms clean of grime before swallowing them into that memorizing glint and flicker of the orb. He could not pull himself away. Somewhere he heard the splat of something hitting soft, gritty mud, yet the flashing colors kept him warm and all of his birdly troubles seemed to wash away like dirt in a stream. Until. A rumble snapped him out of it. The rain became harsh hard  and the doughy mud was turning to soup beneath his feet. He snapped his head around, but there was no sign. He listened, but all he heard was the heavy rains.. He put the orb in his satchel. A deep earth churning groan shook through his hollow bones and a cacophony of muffled roots tearing, and snapping sent jolts through his feathers. The sound became louder as a dark mound slowly erupted from the mud in front of him. His body became still for he dared not move. Two stalks flipped up on top of the mound. One then the other. They were eyes. Deep black pools of savage hunger were staring right at him. His heart was pounding, the mound was three of him wide, and just as high. Large enough to eat him whole. He thought about flying away but the mud and rain would slow him and the commotion might get him eaten, so he dare not move. The stalk eyes were searching now, no doubt trying to discern him from the muddy background. Worms have terrible vision but their sense of vibration is beyond belief. 

Fear broke his eyeline from the stalks down to his talons, they had been swallowed by the mud but there he saw his spear. He flicked his eyes back up to the worm. The stalks were moving left and right scanning the area. The muddy mound began to descend, sifting back and forth through the mud and the stalks soon sunk out of sight. There was thunder in the distance. The early bird took three deep breaths and snatched up the spear. Already, he could hear the deep horrible rumble below growing. He drove the spear down into the mud and with all of his might pushed against it until one foot was wretched free with a sucking "thwoop". The rumble became louder as he began to pull until with a second "thwoop" which freed him. He flapped hard, but the rain was too heavy and his feet were covered in thick mud. With all his might, he tried to get away from the swell of wet earth and the growing growl that was getting closer. In his haste, he slipped and fell into a pool of dark, muddy water with a flat plate. As kicked and reached wildly, he began to sink, but there was no ground to gain in the muck. His world turned to black cold grit when suddenly, his leg was crushed by some great force. Short of breath and panicked he inhaled, the dark slurry filled his lungs. He was snatched up through the mud and into the air by something hard that knocked his lungs clear. He gawked for air and scrabbled, clinging to whatever he could. His eyes were closed, but he could feel the rain and air smash against his face. As he ascended, a familiar drop tugged at his gut. He opened his eyes to see the muddy ground rushing up to meet him. He let go and pushed away from the mass, expanding his muddy wings to slow his fall. The worm's massive body plummeted past him. It's small rear legs scrambled for purchase all while it's segments writhed. The worm crashed with a sickening crunch. He splatted flat into muddy ground and as he tried to rise his leg was engulfed in an electric pain. He fell to one knee and felt something pressing against his wing. His spear was still on him, tangled around the crow's satchel strap. He untangled the spear, pulled it up, and saw that the worm was turned around, staring at him fully exposed. Row after row of razor teeth sharp as spear heads littered the gaping maw of the worm. One huge claw like forearm was hunched close to the body and ended like a shovel, but the other claw dangled sickeningly from sinew. A series of cracks emanated from a large indentation on the forehead between the eye stalks that were angled down upon him and he knew they saw him clearly now. 

He rose to circle the worm, his spear out stretched. His leg was on fire, but he circled the worm as it rumbled and growled. At the time, his muddy feathers were unruffled and his hollow bones were unshaken. It slammed and drug its functional claw around the muck, flinging black speckles as it raged. He saw it was hurt and couldn't dig and it never made a move forward, but stood its ground. He tested it, stabbing at the worm's hard carapace and circling his foe all the while. It snapped at him and smashed its claw into the mud in rage as it missed. He jabbed the spear down a crack in the broken claw. In and out as the worm ducked and dodged the bird’s attacks.! He was behind the worm as it writhed in pain and the long pink tail whipped and caught him full in the chest. Knocking him off his feet and a good distance away. He sloshed around in the mud trying to get his bearings. He wiped the mud from his eyes and saw the worm charging him, mouth wide. The rain had stopped and there was a grey mist across the sky. He was tired, unsure  if he could muster any more strength when he saw, caught among the sharp white teeth lay black feathers. The feathers gave him an idea and while he was too weak to do much more fighting. He reached into the crow's satchel, grabbed it and pushed the orb into the air. He dared not look into it but held it aloft and saw those black stalks gloss and lose focus. It stopped its furious charge, it slid forward just in front of him then was rooted. The scent of earth and death seeped from the gaping maw. He lowered the stone to the mud and watched the black stalks, they remained locked on it. He limped feebly over to his spear and picked it up as he climbed up the worm's back and stood between its eyes, driving the end of his spear down through the cracked indentation on the worm's head, and it broke like a fresh egg. 


A deep purple substance began to pool up from inside. The stalks dropped slowly, resisting here and there, but fell forward all the same as if to sleep. He slid down the worm's front and settled himself against the hard carapace. His breath rattled in his chest and his leg throbbed dully. He looked down at his chest at the feather he found. A ray of sun burst through the grey sky above and shined on his charm of luck. It looked more dull to his eyes now but just as beautiful. He tweeted his gratitude, untied it and let a sudden gust of wind carry it away. He pushed himself up with his spear  and began to gather the three sharpest teeth from the worm. He hobbled around the back end of the worm and sliced off the soft, pink tail and packed it all up in the satchel. He fluttered raggedly away until he caught the wind. He looked toward the horizon, toward home. Then he had a strange thought:
 "Though you may wake today, sleep could find you in a different way and though you may hold a charm, it does not guarantee you from harm. However, one thing is for certain, in this world of twists and turns, the early bird always catches the worm." 
. As he flew into the mid-morning horizon, he tweeted with satisfaction.