Writing Colonies XXVI: "Aliens" in the Colonies

For those interested in a SITREP (sans graphic), I'd say I'm about two-thirds done with Aerilon at this stage.  

A while back, someone asked me if there would be any unusual wildlife on the colonies, something we never saw in any of the shows.  As these were, essentially, alien worlds to humanity, it made sense that we could see something of that nature.  I've sprinkled a few around (the single-horned mountain rams of Gemenon, the wild cats of Leonis, various varieties of birds and flowers, etc.), but none were very prominent in the story.  That changes with a scene in Book Seven.

Ready to be grossed out by the lizard vultures of Aerilon?  Click the JUMP and read on.

Story-wise, all you need to know is that our protagonist, Domhaghart Mac Modan, has gotten lost in the desolate Badlands.

His lips were cracked and his feet dragged across the dusty ground.  He stumbled often and he kept his eyes closed for much of his daytime wanderings.  The thought occurred to him that he should perhaps move only at night, but he realized that he had no means to make a shelter with what few bags he had left.

Later, he couldn't recall when he collapsed.  He only knew that he must have.  He thought it may have been on the sixth day, but he had actually made it to the seventh.  At any rate, he would always remember the feeling that coursed through him when, in a half-slumber, he heard an ancient, primordial call above.

The scream cracked the silence and Mac Modan opened his eyes.  He saw only the cloudless blue sky at first.  He blinked over and over because he felt a film beneath his lids.  Finally, he saw three dark shapes circling above.  He tried to focus but he knew what they were.

He turned and felt the rough, dry ground against his face.  He tried to raise himself up on his hands and knees, and he finally did, though he only managed to crawl a few meters afterward.  He fell unconscious again, though he didn't know for how long, only to be awakened by a tugging sensation on his leg.

Dom rolled onto his back and saw a pale figure at his feet, about a meter tall.  The vulture was pale, like ashen gray flesh.  Scales covered its body and the recesses between them were caked with the brown-red flakes of dried blood.  Its torso was skinny and it walked about on black clawed feet.  Its scrawny arms stretched behind itself and its wings appeared to be folded.  Its neck was long and sinewy, holding aloft the thin skull of the vulture and the recessed yellow eyes of the lizard.  There was a small, pointed crest on its crown and its thin beak extended more than twenty centimeters from the skull, and all the scales of its face and neck were covered in dried blood.  The smell of death from the thing flooded him and his stomach turned.

Its head tilted as it regarded its still-alive prey  The beak opened and revealed the sharp edges of the front portion that gave way to serrated teeth toward the back.  Its stained tongue flicked inside and it cried out again.  The shriek ached his very bones at such a short distance and Mac Modan summoned what little strength remained and he began to scramble away from the animal.  Startled by the sudden movement, the vulture extended its wings and he was stunned to see the three-meter wingspan, a thin membrane stretched under its arms.  It jumped forward and pecked at his boot and he weakly kicked toward it.

Dom looked above and saw that there were four more circling overhead.  The one on the ground nipped at his calf and he felt the sharpness of its bite through the fabric of his pants.  He reached toward the revolver on his hip and put his thumb on the hammer.  He tried to pull it back, but he simply couldn't.  He then reached for his knife on his left hip.  Holding it on his belly, he tried to crawl backward again.  The vulture hopped toward him and nipped at his holster.  He flicked his fingers and the slight movement attracted the lizard.  It moved closer still and he slashed at it with the blade.

The animal cried out in a harsh, wounded manner.  The membrane of its wing had been cut and it tried to flap away, but couldn't gain any more than a meter or so in height before it fell back to the ground.  It lay there, flapping and shrieking, and Mac Modan returned to his stomach and started to crawl.

He passed out again.  He only knew that because he was awakened by the sensation of sharp claws digging into his lower back.  He tried to roll over, but the weight of a vulture made it difficult.  Finally, the animal hopped off and Dom saw a different animal staring at him curiously.  He heard the cracking of bones nearby and he turned his head to see three other vultures tearing apart the body of their wounded comrade.  The sprays of gore and the sounds might have made him sick were he not so weak. 

The nearest vulture shrieked.  Its body was more gaunt, more lanky than the other.  Bits of rotted black flesh hung in its beak and teeth and its tiny, red-yellow eyes bored holes into him.  He tried to raise his knife-hand again, but he couldn't.  Finally, his head collapsed to the ground and he closed his eyes.

In case you're curious, the "primordial shriek" I have in my head for these things is the oft-used "pterodactyl" screech heard in many Hanna-Barbera cartoons in the good ol' days.  Here's a sample from Jonny Quest:

Thanks for reading.