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The world, sometimes called the Great Ground by the natives, was a large continent surrounded on all sides by an ocean that no Praxian had ever claimed to have crossed. They were no strangers to water, since Great Ground had many lakes of various sizes. However, none were eager to venture out over the water unless they knew of islands or were certain of a shore. While any Praxian can glide for hours, they are not great navigators away from the land.

Praxians are by their nature resistant to large social structures. They are mighty avians of prey--another planet's answer to what would be thought of as birds in other places. They coast and wheel through the sky at great heights, keeping watch below for unsuspecting and unintelligent water birds, bigger fish that swim too close to the surface, and wandering land animals of significant size. A soft rush of wind is all that would precede an attack; prey is rent apart by mighty talons, the Praxian's secondary claws which are weaker but capable of delivering much more precisely targeted stabbing strikes, and their strong raptor beaks.

Typically a bird in good health and standing will make his prey selection, dispatch it, and then carry it to his lair to possibly share with the other Praxian who shares his territory, even if it is not breeding season. To cope with the social needs of sharing hunting space, finding companionship, raising chicks and defending from wanderers and other predators with sharing the world, most good ranges of moderate size have a pair of Praxians occupying it; almost all Praxian pairs belong to a flock of perhaps 40 or so individuals.

Many members in a flock are related, but little attention is paid to any others save immediate family. A bird will remember his siblings, sire and dam, but does not feel he owes them any special regard once his parents drive him away from their territory. Some older Praxians will gain a level of status among their peers merely from their age, or from hunting prowess, or from being the sire of a significant percentage of the flock.

The Praxian flock of the lake, also called the Thee'Gee flock by others, had an odd number of members, and that was usually a minor omen for something bad. An odd population usually leads to instability, and the oddest one out usually solved things by wandering away.

It's good if there is an even number in the flock for then everyone gets a territory mate to help guard the territory, and when breeding season begins, to court and mate and help to raise chicks. A territory mate should be someone a bird gets along with, and they should soon come to an understanding between the two of them; all Praxians are of one doubly-capable sex, able to sire and bear offspring, so courtship usually involves not only strengthening ties between a pair but also allows the pair to sort out who will play what role.

But Felin Thee'Gee had not had a territory mate; not really. He and his sibling were not yet fledged when both parents were killed by wanderers who coveted their territory, which included part of a lake and access to a series of cliffs near a pass through mountains to the north. The rest of the flock drove the wanderers away, and grudging caretakers were found.

When they came of age, they went to the large unclaimed sand bar that was used for courting and pairing up. All of that generation attend, strut and call, and among themselves sort out who will go where. However, this is where the odd problem begain: Felin had no match. But there was an older Praxian whose mate died during the trouble. He was chased from his territory by Felin's sibling, and his chosen mate. The older Praxian had moved to the territory of Felin's parents, and allowed Felin to stay.

Different generations will rarely enjoy each other's company for long, however. And this older individual was not long for the world, in any case. When he passed, Felin was truly the odd one out.

It was a large territory for one bird. Felin knew that, as did his neighbors. The old bird, Usul, had been dead for long enough so that no traces of him remained. For the first time, it would appear to any visitors that the territory was his, despite his long occupancy. This was the first time that he was the oldest one here, and there were no reminders of anything else. Yet he didn't feel as if he owned it, yet.

It would take him perhaps three hours to fly in a meandering path across all of the significant parts. There was a wash, occasionally filled with water, which led from mountains to the north of his range. Of that range, only a few large hills were within his demises. Other pairs had claimed the properly large mountains, a valuable asset--but they had given up access to the lake, which formed the southwest boundary to Felin's territory. Various wandering land animals would frequent the wash, either hoping for a drink, or looking for a direct path to the lake; flying along the wash was usually a good way to pick up an easy meal.

Of course, for ease, nothing could beat the lake. Any patient bird could catch a fish. However, it took many of these to make a satisfying meal. Some kinds were also edible, but not preferable. So it was a comfortable place to live; there was enough food, and sometimes being persistent and working hard would yield something tastier than normal.

Felin's lair had also served his parents. It was where they had used an old nest, and where Felin had hatched. Within sight of the wash, and on the western end of the territory, among the hills, there were three hills, steep mesas, that were the tallest. The one that was second in height had a wide concave side to the southwest. This faced the tallest of the hills, and so was sheltered. On this difficult to climb face of the hill was a shallow depression, barely a cave, with a small plateau beneath it.

It was hard to spot, and hard for anything without the gift of flight to approach, so it was safe from the nest-raiding seeker rats. It was the natural choice for a nest. Felin knew of others who build huge nests across the arching branches of great trees, but he knew little of how to properly build such structures. And why should he bother to learn?

He was tired of fish, so he was zigzagging his way back and forth across the wash, scanning for grazing herds, or solitary hunters on the ground also stalking the grazing horned beasts. Aside from very small rodent-like game, there was little that caught his interest, until he spied something large that was already dead.

Praxians are not above scavenging when times are hard. Felin didn't particularly feel like eating something that had been dead for very long, but a corpse still bore investigating.

He spiraled in, searching for anything on the ground or in the air that might come calling and disturb him while he was at a disadvantage. Being on the ground and preoccupied would allow anything to happen to him, unless he was careful. All he saw was a small group of water birds on their way to the lake. Maybe he'd trail them if the corpse was too old, and snag one of them.

Felin had nearly landed when he realized that not only was the corpse fresh, but something else had already picked it very clean. Landing, he walked over to the body and was startled to see the large gashes of talons across the hide. "Someone else? Someone else killed it, right here on my land, and ate it." He tried to remember when he had last come this way. It had been several days; long enough for an intrusion by one of his neighbors.

He clicked his beak a few times in displeasure, and then rubbed the bottom of his beak with one of his smaller foreclaws. "If he were sneaky, and stuck low to the ground while hunting, maybe I would have missed him. But what a risk for him to take." Felin looked around, trying to judge how near the unofficial boundary between his territory and his neighbors to the north, by the mountains, lay. It didn't seem as though it was close enough to allow for a kill, especially a big one like this, without permission from the owner of the territory.

Felin puffed out the feathers on his chest, and flapped his wings in a gesture of irritation for no one to see. He had been aware that this might happen, because of his status in the flock. Someone was encroaching.

He ran, spreading his wings, and started flapping. Soon, he was airborne, gaining altitude slowly in a wide curve to take advantage of thermals, until he had enough height to glide most of the way home. He had forgotten about the water birds until he was almost there, and he started to veer toward the lake to scan for them when something else caught his eye.

Another Praxian, far off to the northwest, was wheeling in the air. Felin mimicked the other bird's movements, to alert the trespasser that he knew he was there.

The correct response would be for the intruder to come straight for Felin, challenging him, or to land and do a little dancing shuffle, acknowledging he was wrong and knew he was in the wrong, and to beg for permission to go on his way out of the territory. The other bird did neither. Felin, curious and perhaps a little angry, moved toward the intruder.

He was still far away, but it wasn't hard for keen Praxian eyes to spot that the other bird was carrying something: a small carcass. The intruder had caught something, was flying away with it, had certainly seen Felin flying and--and had not cared.

***

After another day or two of searching hard for signs of other incursions, Felin was on his way to Skweega. He was an older bird who lived on the other side of the lake, whose opinion could be stronger than a good tailwind when it came to getting things done. Constantly, from three directions, Felin's boundaries were coming under pressure. The most serious trespasses were by a pair his own age, which he was the most angry about. It was his own sibling, Feelie. From further north and from the northeast, almost at the mountains, came older Praxians on their way to the lake to bring fish back to their nests, to teach the chicks about their taste and look. All together, it stuck in his crop.

Almost halfway across, he mused to himself as he watched his shadow ripple across the surface of the lake. "This wouldn't be happening if I was part of a proper pair." His shadow disappeared for a moment, which spurred the next thought: "The flock would prefer it if I would leave."

His altitude suffered slightly as the words rolled back and forth, and he whistled them out loud to the air as it streamed past him. "They want me to wander. They want my cliff and trees and part of the lake for themselves, and for their chicks." Though it wasn't what he wanted, actually saying it out loud made it seem less serious. Skweega would never directly say to him "Go."

Reaching the shore, Felin took to the ground, cocked his head to the side and peered along the horizon in all directions. He wouldn't go tearing straight for the domicile of Skweega and his mate, Shh'fee. He would do things correctly. He hopped along the shore, spreading his wings and keeping his arms tight against his body, then straightened up and listened, watching the places where he knew the pair usually spent their time.

Sure enough, his dance had an audience, but it was four birds who took wing and came to meet him, not one. Felin would have been surprised if even Shh'fee had accompanied Skweega to see him, but it became apparent that Shh'fee was not one of the four. It was Skweega...and Marz'kal and Feelie, the intruding neighbors, and older Chee, who was part of Skweega's generation and lived further along the lake than Felin had ever gone.

Felin clicked his beak in irritation. This couldn't be a good wind blowing his way.

The formation landed near enough for easy conversation. Feelie wore a tight necklace with shells and shiney stones; apparently he had consented to bear Marz's eggs. Felin gave him a look of bored contempt, and then turned to Skweega who had begun speaking already.

"Felin," he said with a slight incline of his head. "I'm glad you're here. We were thinking of sending one to ask you to come."

"Then you know why I'm here," Felin said as he tried to keep calm. Inside, he was preparing for a defeat. He was the odd bird out, and not only that, he was of the youngest fledged generation. He had next to no rights in an argument like this, for his territory. He was sure that Feelie and Marz'kal were begging Skweega for help in obtaining it.

"Perhaps," the old bird continued. "But maybe you don't know why you're here. Instead of worrying about territories between birds of the the flock of the lake, we have a more serious issue. There is a group of wanderers. They demand a tribute ritual for access to the lake."

A group of wanderers was a bad sign. Only one flock within six days' flight kept groups without territories, and that was the wild birds of the plains, the Boska'Nee birds. They all wandered to some degree, and usually refused to obey territorial marks and polite rituals of trespass. What is more, they often confronted an entrenched flock and offered a ritual contest as an alternative to violence, which most Praxians avoided when they could--small disagreements could easily turn deadly, given the birds' arsenal.

The smug look of Feelie's face was all Felin needed to deduce what was next. "One of them, one of us, or they'll try force. And you're thinking of me." Felin tried to keep from looking upset or desperate, or any of the other things he felt.

Marz'kal spoke up. "You don't have a mate, Felin. No one bird needs you, no bird's flight but yours depends on your wings--but the flock, we all as a whole, we need you.

Felin stifled an urge to fly straight at Marz's face and twist his beak off. Such pretty songs are likely how he talked the nest circlet onto Feelie's neck; Feelie and Felin had both been closer to their sire than their dam, and said to each other many times that the stronger bird should not be stuck sitting on a nest. "But look at you now, Feelie...look at you now," Felin thought as he turned to look at his brother, who was looking at the ground, idly fingering a shell strung to the circlet around his throat.

But Marz was saying things tightly woven around a bone of truth. This was a mission intended to solve several of the flock's problems, most notably its odd number. The Boska'Nee were fast fliers, very strong and hardy. They preferred physical contests to settle the challenge rituals. No one in the flock of the lake believed they could win against the wanderers, so no one was eager to volunteer himself. But the odd bird? Certainly, Boska'Nee. Take him and leave us in peace.

So Felin would be offered up, and would become the bonded pair to whoever his opponent was. He would join the ranks of many such birds, taken from their homes and forced to adapt to a rough, wandering life with no status save what he could grasp with his own talons. And it wouldn't even rid the flock of the wanderers, for they would, as the winners, get the access to the lake that they sought. It seemed a poor solution, but one that everyone here was willing to brood out.

"I'll go." Felin sighed and flapped his wings a few times. "Which side of the lake?"

***

It took almost two hours of flight for Felin and Skweega to reach the south end of the lake. Long before their arrival, Felin could see the wanderers. There were seven--another odd number. Everywhere he turned, it seemed the eddy winds of fate were against him.

"Although," Felin thought to himself, "what would stop them from bonding and breaking as they pleased? They have no neighbors. They have no status. Would they care about such things?" With that thought, the pair of the flock of the lake landed near the challengers.

"Thee'Gee birds!" There was a cackling and hooting series of calls from the rest of the smaller group, as their spokesbird hopped forward, his small arms clutching at his shoulders. "We didn't think you'd come. And I think you're new!" He leered at Felin, looking him up and down.

He leaned over his shoulder and called "Hukek! I wish I had been the one who agreed to pit myself against their bird. See him?" From the group came a bird who was almost the biggest of these wild, aggressive and strong birds, and with an amused look on his face, he repeated his peer's somewhat rude stare.

"I'll take good care of you," Hukek said, which elicited jeers from his peers. "I'll win and you'll come with me; I think you'll like wearing a necklace for me." Reaching down, Hukek fondled himself, pushing aside a protective flap that kept his male parts covered during flight.

Skweega shrieked, high and piercing, and cut off the merry chirps of the Boska'Nee. "Save your lewd acts for your empty plains. Only there could you learn to behave that way! And that's where such obscene displays should stay."

Felin turned to look at Skweega, wondering why he would bother to scold them at a time like this. Off in the distance, he could see other members of the flock. "All here to watch me be carried off like a tusker carcass," he thought to himself. "Let's get this over with, I'm ready to leave these traitors behind."

He stepped forward, clicked his beak and said "Done bragging, you ugly half-molted flatland groundnester? What did you come here to do?"

Hukek stared back, while the first Boska'Nee bird stepped closer. "Easy, Thee'Gee. That's no way to talk to your new flockboys, now is it." He cocked his head to the side and giggled at Felin. "We want to eat fish from time to time. Your lake's the biggest around, and we'd like to be able to get to it. Of course, old bird there doesn't like that idea." He turned and pecked the air toward Skweega. "He knows what's good for him, but he's insisting on this tired old game. If you win, we go on our merry way, and you get to keep Hukek, there. But probably what will happen is that within a year you'll be squatting on one of those ground nests you hate so much stuffed with some of Hukek's brats, and we'll be stuffing ourselves with your fish--because you'll lose."

Felin ignored the speaker, looking Hukek over. The latter stood still, his beak gaping slightly in what seemed to be amusement. Hukek eventually clicked his beak shut and turned to his companion. "Now, Dueeh. Don't be too sure I'd have him. Look at him! He's pretty, but honestly. Can he hunt on the plains? I'll have to be carrying things in all four claws to keep us fed." His beak gaped open at Felin again, his gaze still traveling up and down.

"He can hunt," said the old Skweega. "We are all hunters, from the plains, the mountains, the lake. Watch your tongue."

"Show us!" The ringleader of the wanderers, Dueeh, adopted the same gaping beak expression as Hukek. "Show us. That'll be our contest: The Speedy Hunter."

"You make a game out of something so serious?" Skweega looked as though he were about to drop most of his feathers in a premature molt on the spot.

Felin turned this over and over in his head. Sure, he'd been on his own for a long time and had to learn how to catch a meal quickly or starve. And seeing who could catch dinner first was a sort of game he and Feelie had played as chicks. Could he match these greedy, grasping Boska'Nee, who had to live on so much less, in climates that were not abundant with game? Places where even the smallest meal could not afford to be ignored?

"A game. Yes, you didn't strike me as players, excuse us for being so playful." Dueeh hopped back to Hukek, and for a second Felin thought that they were perhaps siblings; they adopted many of each other's mannerisms. "This is a game Hukek will win. The first to get prey here is the winner and gains the loser." He paused and looked over Felin again. "Do you have land that touches the lake?"

"Wait!" Skweega looked suddenly desperate. "If they are to bond no matter the outcome, then why won't you have access to the lake through kinship? How can you lose? This shames your proud ancestors, for you are not gambling at all."

That seemed to pluck a tailfeather or two; some of the Boska'Nee birds murmured and gave Skweega dark stares, but didn't argue with him. Dueeh spread his wing, and slapped Hukek's back. "If he loses, he'll remain here and we will go to the next lake. If! Caw. What I'm sure we'll see is our little Thee'Gee friend here sitting on his favorite ground nest while we all take our picks of your favorite hunting spots."

"You will leave if Felin wins? You swear it?" Skweega hopped closer. Several other birds of the flock of the lake alighted nearby. There was some strength in numbers, and all present heard Dueeh's boast and terms.

Hukek gaped his beak at Felin again, and Dueeh cackled. "Speedy Hunter! The first to find game is the winner."

Hukek leapt upward, beating his wings furiously, and began to soar. Felin watched him go, and felt a strange contradictory feeling. "Would losing to him be so bad? Look at him fly." Skweega looked at Felin desperately, almost clucking, before Felin took to the air.

He shadowed Hukek for a while, wondering if he were quick enough to dart in and take whatever item Hukek had set his sights on. Before long, he noticed that the other Praxian avoided flying over the water.

Felin looked down at his mirror shadow, following him over the small stretch of water he passed over as he turned more widely than his opponent, and he suddenly realized: maybe there was a chance. These birds wanted to fish but they were ignoring the biggest source of food here, the whole goal of their visit: the lake. Hukek was scanning the shore and nearby ground and not even looking for the brief, quick, silver flashes of fish just beneath the surface.

Speaking of which--there was one now. Felin began to dive doward, foreclaws ready but hoping to snag the fish up with his talons. It looked better and would be faster. "Look out! Caw!" came screeches from the spectators.

Hukek must have determined the flaw in his strategy and was also diving toward the water--toward the same fish Felin had targeted. The slightly larger bird had closed the distance between them, and had angled slightly toward the same part of the lake Felin was descending toward.

"He was waiting for me, to do the same thing I planned to do--he'll try to steal from me!" Felin thought in a flash. Then he thought of nothing, knowing better than to distract himself at this crucial moment.

Their bodies collided briefly, as the Praxians came too close to each other; their wings were briefly fouled with the other's, and Felin folded his wings close to dive even faster and to right himself before getting to the surface of the water. This meant his path had changed too much; the fish was nowhere to be seen. He swooped, pulled up, and circled.

Hukek was not so lucky; he must have panicked, flapping wildly, and ended up splashing down in the lake. After several seconds, he surfaced, wings flat and his legs and arms kicking feebly. Praxians are too light to drown, though once waterlogged, they cannot take off for a while and must swim to shore.

Felin swooped down again, and grasped the outstretched winglimb of the struggling Praxian. Hukek squawked angrily and shook himself but it was no use. With a lot of effort, Felin dragged the other bird to shore. "I win," he said with a pant, slightly out of breath. "I caught myself a slow, stupid water bird."

The Thee'Gee spectators had come closer during the voyage back to shore; many of them hooted and called at the Boska'Nee, who huddled together. Dueeh alone did not look frightened or disappointed. He looked angry, and glared directly at Hukek.

"You must leave," said Skweega. "Go to the next lake and do not trouble us. Your kin remains."

"Good," Dueeh said. Hukek looked up, then immediately looked down to avoid the other wanderer's gaze. "He'll stay."

Felin watched the Boska'Nee depart, and turned to the new occupant of his territory; now, firmly his territory. Hukek looked back and forth at the assembled Thee'Gee birds, the grinning gape gone from his beak. Felin came closer and said "Don't be afraid. Be strong with me."

He turned to the approaching Skweega, Feelie and Marz'kal, who all looked very pleased with themselves. All the anger Felin felt from earlier that day resurfaced; how long would they look pleased once it dawned on them that now, his territory would remain his? How long until they began trying to encroach again? How much bolder could they get? They'd steal right up to the straws and feathers of his nest, no doubt.

"Welcome to the Thee'Gee," Skweega began to say.

"No." Felin shook himself, stretching his wings out, and paced around Hukek. He spread his wings, arched his back and called to the sky. The piercing screech silenced all of the assembled birds, who leaned in to hear what Felin said next. "No, he's not Thee'Gee."

"You'll cast him out?" Feelie looked even happier than he did before. "To wander alone?"

"Yes, you'd like that," thought Felin. "Then I'd be back where I started."

He said aloud "No, he and I will remain in my territory. But we are not of your flock. I am not Felin Thee'Gee. I am Felin Pahl'wi. I am lead flyer of my new flock. He is Hukek Pahl'wi. Stay off of my shore, stay away from my sky, Thee'Gee. Did you see me defeat a Bosk'Nee? I'll do the same and worse to you." He turned and bowed to Skweega Thee'Gee, a mark of respect between equals.

Hukek stayed quiet, which wasn't surprising; there was the shock of losing, and a cold dousing with water, of course. The winds of change sweeping away his entire world, his old flock and probably his kin, in a moment of fouled wings--how would any bird react?

The other members of Felin's old flock looked at him, shocked. Then, they slowly left without a word. Skweega was the last. "Do you know what you have decided? Are you prepared to--"

Felin turned his head and pecked the air toward the older bird. "It's not enough you would have tossed me aside to spare yourselves, and not even done a good job of that--now you think to lecture me further? I have no use for bad eggs. My dam taught me not to sit on them."

Skweega turned to go. "I thought you might win, if that means anything," he said, and then took to the air.

"Come on," Felin said to Hukek.

***

They walked along the shore, and Felin ignored the trespassing ritual as they crossed territory after territory, until Hukek's feathers were dry enough for him to fly. "Follow me," Felin said, taking to the air, and they made their way back to Felin's territory--the Palewing territory, as it came to be called in modern speech.

Felin landed on the ledge under the large ancient nest, and the sight seemed somehow different than it had been before. It was new again.

He looked over his shoulder at Hukek. This was where he and Hukek might have young, soon. Felin thought of Feelie and his small, tight circlet of objects. What to say to a bird you've just won in a ritual struggle? What to do? How do you court a barbarian wanderer? It occurred to Felin that it was surprising that Hukek had followed him at all, but then again--where else would Hukek go?

Hukek circled once or twice. He called out, a wild, tearing cry, then landed on the plateau near Felin. He had a rather humble attitude now, as opposed to earlier...yet there was still the fierce, wild and unpredictable presence that all Boska'Nee birds have.

Felin patted himself on the flap that concealed his own organ, mimicking Hukek's earlier performance. "So! Am I still desirable?" He leaned toward Hukek, and fanned out his tailfeathers. "See how much nicer a nest is when it has some proper altitude?"

The larger bird remained silent, but looked up at Felin. Felin kept his tail fanned out and strutted back and forth, finally giving a call similar to the one Hukek had performed before landing.

"You don't need to rub it in," Hukek said quietly. "I lost. I was humiliated by you. I left the old wandering plains flock with my--with Dueeh because I wanted to...to excel, and be strong, and take a brooder from some weak lakebound flock. But..." he went silent again.

"Is it so bad?" Felin asked, crouching near the other Praxian, and reaching out slowly with his neck, beak half open. He snapped it closed with a click, a short distance from Hukek's beak. "I think it's good. We'll have to be strong. We're a flock of two."

Hukek's beak dropped open into the expression he had used mockingly before; though his eyes lacked that hostile quality now. "We are. I'm impressed. But I guess any Praxian can be strong when he has to be."

Felin stroked Hukek's shoulder gently, and the latter bird shuddered, but only for a second. "The weak ones don't make it out of their shells." Hukek crouched a little, letting himself be stroked by the victor of the contest. "But you seem stronger than most, Hukek."

"I'm Hukek Pahl'wi," said the formerly wandering bird. "I'll follow you, lead flyer."

Felin left Hukek on the plateau; the bigger Praxian watched as Felin hopped up to a crevice in the cave, then returned with a small thin line, a chain made of sinew and scales from fishes, with some shells attached here and there. "Want to find a new rock for me?" He rolled the small decorative circle back and forth, unable to think of anything but Feelie and how he looked with such a circlet around his neck. Such shiny stones and polished shells could look fetching on him, he was sure. Maybe Hukek would be easier to win over if he was the first sire.

Hukek's hand closed around the links and took it from Felin. "I like it fine," he said as he bowed his head and leaned to one side, fastening it in place. "I'd...I'm proud to wear it. No chasing flight, no posturing and no more rituals. We've done it already."

He shook himself; the circlet made soft tinkling sounds. "Sire your first clutch, Lead Flier, and we won't be a flock of two for all that long. I'm almost at the end of my season so you'd better hurry." He stood up with another gaping grin. Reaching over, he patted Felin's underside, stroked along the bald, horned hide of his talons, and crouched before his territory mate.

Felin called out softly, a repeating whistle and click, and caressed Hukek's head. He guided the other bird to the end of the plateau, and had him face out over the land. "We can almost see it all from here, Hukek." Felin gently pushed up against Hukek from behind, his flap being edged aside from his swelling erection.

Hukek grunted, spread his legs, and positioned himself to receive his mate. "It's my first time," he said with a small cluck.

"It's mine too," whispered Felin. He leaned over Hukek, spreading his wings and slowly feeling across the plains bird's spread wingshafts with his small foreclaws, spreading apart Hukek's feathers and letting them lace back together in their airtight formation.

Hukek make a soft, squeaking croak as Felin's fingers wandered down his back, then gently spread under Hukek's fanned tailfeathers, pressing the fan gently from underneath.

The bigger bird crouched lower, supporting himself with his talons and foretalons, his wings tucked against his sides. His tailfeather fan shivered, widened and lifted higher, feathers spreading out as far as he could make them go.

Felin slowly pulled at Hukek's wings, opening them and stretching them up, and letting them fall back to gliding position. "You're so fast," Felin whispered. "You weren't hurt when you fell, were you?"

"No." Hukek let Felin continue to play with his wings, and he folded them back against himself when Felin released them. The smaller bird gripped the ground behind Hukek with his talons, flapped his own wings several times, and then called out lowly, ending with a whistle. "I liked watching you fly. I thought it wouldn't have been bad to lose." He reached around Hukek's sides and squeezed around his lower abdomen.

"It would have been worse, I think. I don't miss any of them like I thought I would. And this..." he trailed off, closing his eyes as the attentions from Felin distracted him.

Felin leaned forward more, pressing against the other Praxian, and sighed as his cock pushed into Hukek's cloaca, finding his eggchute and guiding himself up along it. Hukek stiffened, groaning and digging his talons into the stony earth.

The smaller bird whispered "Enjoy it, I'll enjoy you. And we can look at our home. Just look at it...your land, your sky, your water. I share it with you." He rocked against Hukek's body, lengthening cock slipping deeper and deeper inside.

"It's yours," whispered Hukek. He gasped, and then moaned as the unfamiliar sensation of a long penis poking him deeply began to create pleasure as well as discomfort. "It's mine," he moaned, and backed up slightly against his lead flier.

Felin remained quiet, save the occasional moan and grunt of exertion. "By the winds and sky," he thought to himself. "A wonderful beginning for all of this; my land, my mate, and I hope a brood of chicks." A new dream, new ideas and landscapes unfolded themselves, never awakened to the light of day before; hidden from the world by a thick shell, now chipped away, exposed and possibly soon to be fulfilled.

He rode his mate, who moaned under him as they both absorbed the beauty of the sky, until Felin's penis, fully gorged, locked into place inside Hukek's eggchute. The Praxian's hermaphrodite nature, even all by itself, two in one, was made more perfect by being four in two; the full symmetry of it would be realized, someday. But to begin, it will be this way: Lake bird sire, plains bird dam.

The flow of Felin's seed caused them both to moan together, locked together, and they lay panting together after the flow subsided, and after Felin's organ began to diminish in girth, allowing it to be removed from Hukek's body. They rested together, facing out over the land, facing the future.

Fin?