The Story of the Hawk, the Weasel, and the Jewel.

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The Story of the Hawk, the Weasel, and the Jewel. Empty The Story of the Hawk, the Weasel, and the Jewel.

Post by Mew-Chan on Sat Mar 08, 2014 12:32 pm

The Story of the Hawk, the Weasel, and the Jewel
A little Nursery tale about why hawks travel alone and hunt for cats which Relicheart of Frostclan often enjoyed telling the kits of the clan.

In the beginning, there was only one hawk in the world and he lived in the forest. His mighty wings allowed him to soar higher than any bird and his eyesight was much keener too. However, as he glided between the clouds, the other birds were much closer to the ground, and always plucked up any rodent they could see, leaving the hawk with nothing to eat.

One morning, the hawk caught sight of slight scuffling and he swooped down to see if he could catch something. When he got closer, he noticed it was a fat mouse nibbling on a seed by a near cave. Excited that no other bird had seen the fat, little creature, he dived down, hooked beak open. But at the moment he was to snatch it up, something as fast as lightning darted out of the cave and caught the mouse, crushing its spine beneath in small, but powerful jaws. The lithe white creature looked up at the hawk with his beady eyes, the hawk now perching itself in a small shrub.

Setting the mouse down, the white creature bent down and began lapping at the pool of blood, its tiny snow white paws getting drenched in the crimson liquid. When its thirst was quenched, it sat up on its hind legs and spoke to the hawk, which shocked the bird of prey even more.

"Swift hawk, your sight is keen and your talons are sharp, yet no prey fills your belly. Why?"

The hawk cleared it throat, the feathers ruffling around his neck.
"As swift as I may be, other birds are swifter and swipe the land clean of prey. Therefore, I have none."

The pure white rodent yawned, its long fangs gleaming, flicking its long, feathery tail upward, like a ghostly flame.

"Dear hawk, as you can seen, I am the weasel who lives in this cave with the other mice. I guard them from danger and every moon or so, I feed
upon one of them. Food is no worry to me. However, I cannot leave this cave for too long, for if I was to be eaten, the mice would surely never leave
and would rule over. I shall make an offer to you; soar high and far beyond these lands for me, as I cannot leave. If every day, you return to this spot, I shall send out three mice from my cave for you to eat in exchange for a story of your ventures. And you shall never go hungry."

The hawk couldn't believe what he was hearing.

"I accept your offer, good weasel, for I have many tales."

So for many moons, the hawk would leave and return to the same shrub, sharing his stories with the white weasel. And in exchange, he would collect the three mice that the weasel sent out of his cave, the group of rodents fat from protection and unaware of their fate.

And the weasel was happy to hear stories of seas, mountains, and volcanoes. And of many creatures the white creature has never heard of.

It would seem to others that the hawk and the weasel had quite a good friendship, but most believed it impossible for a predator to be friends with what some thought of as prey.

One day, very much like the day the hawk first met the weasel, the hawk had finished his story and the weasel had disappeared deep into his cave like every other day. However, the hawk was a bit full up and had yet to finish his meal. As he gobbled up the last morsels, the hawk wondered where the weasel wandered off to and he decided to explore the dark cave. Tucking his large wings in, he scampered into the darkness, his talons clicking against the cold stone.

After walking a couple minutes, he entered a large cavern which twinkled like the night sky, tiny flecks of light dancing around. In the center was a small nest where a beautiful jewel born of crystallized smolders laid. At first sight, the hawk knew he had to have it for himself. As he wandered closer to it, he heard thunder rumble outside, the sign that a storm was coming. He gently picked up the gem with his beak as the patter of rain sounded. He then started his way out of the cave, the storm getting stronger as he neared the exit. As he left the safety of the cave, the rain rolled off his feathers as if he were a duck.

Suddenly, a white flash of snarling teeth and claws shot out of the cave and latched itself onto the hawk's back.

"Curses! You wretched beast! Thief! You dare steal the prize possession of my cave?! After what I done for you?!"

Aware that the rain could harm his flying, the hawk feared that the weasel would kill him, so he quickly opened his wings and took off into the air. Black clouds rolled overhead and lightning crackled. As he neared his nest, the angry white weasel had slipped down his back and clung to his tail. A shocking bolt of lightning darted down from the sky and slapped the hawk's tail, searing the ends of his feathers. But as the hawk escaped with his life, the weasel plummeted to the forest floor, completely charred and dead.

For many seasons, the hawk lived happily in the forest; the small cave providing him with plenty of prey, and his lovely jewel giving him the most beautiful sight when he curled up in his nest to sleep.

One day, the hawk was returning from a good hunt. As he neared his nest, slurping down the last of the mouse's tail, he noticed a bit of movement in his nest at the top of the highest tree. Worried, he quickened his speed, and to his keen eyesight, he saw the white body of a weasel wriggling through his bedding. Confusion raced through his head as he reached his nest, and hearing the hawk's sharp cry, the weasel clamped its jaws around the glittering jewel. The hawk lunged at the weasel's long tail, but to his dismay, his beak went straight through it. Alarmed, he figured it had to be the ghost of the weasel who died due to his own greed and the bird lunged at the gem, knowing he wouldn't fall through it. The weasel then leaped off of the tree, jewel held within his fuzzy maw. The hawk dived down and at the moment his beak touched his jewel, the ghost slashed his face and vanished. The moment the hawk opened his eyes from the attack, he saw the jewel shatter into a thousand pieces against a boulder that sat beneath the tree. Heartbroken, the hawk promised that he would find the ghost and somehow rid it from the world of the living. The hawk was the ancestor of all other hawks that live today. The reason hawks live alone is because they share the same sorrow as their ancestors; and the reason that attack us cats is because from far away, they believe we to be the weasel who cause their ancestor so much grief, as the slashes to the first hawk's gaze lessened their sights...

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