kyrraven

Mocha wanted very much to win a prize at the Festival of Death, but he was notoriously lazy. Learning magic would take time, and effort. Competitions in physical strength and speed weren't really his idea of fun, either. He found himself lamenting the lack of an eating contest, as he could eat all day and never tire... nor truly feel full. During the weeks leading up to the festival, the hazel rook spent a great deal of time thinking about what he might be able to do to win a contest. He thought about it as he ate, as he dozed in his hammock, and while stealing socks and blankets off the clotheslines of unsuspecting humans. He pondered his options as he swam in a nearby pond, and as he basked in the sun on the bank, drying his fur. He was sitting below a tree, eating fallen fruits, and thinking some more, when he saw a most glorious thing. A motorcar was traveling down a nearby road, going very quickly indeed! Mocha's small ears perked up and forward as he watched and

Cocoa was eager for the Festival of Death. She had attended every year since she was a small pup, but this time would be even more special. This time, she was helping to set up some of the booths and decorations on the festival grounds. She would be there a few days ahead of the crowd, and would learn hands-on how to put up garlands and banners, how to assemble booths and the awnings that shaded them. On the first day, when she arrived at the festival grounds, she was led to a huge mound of orange flower blossoms. There, she and several other kukuri volunteers were shown how to thread the flowers onto strings, to create the long garlands that would soon hang overhead, mark out the paths for races, cordon off areas for contests of strength, and decorate the stage where magical performances would be held... among other things. These flower garlands would be almost everywhere. The hooded hazel dove settled in with the others, gently drawing the sturdy thread through the base of

Gwyneira had always loved the snow. As a pup she'd happily frolicked in soft powder, scrambled to climb to the top of massive drifts, then rolled down the other side, and built her very first loaf of snow kukus. She was certain snow was magical. After all, it appeared every winter, but then disappeared in spring. If she tried to take it into her nest to keep it, it vanished, but not before wetting her bedding. It even disappeared when she tried to eat it, leaving her mouth chilled and tingly, with a hint of freshness. She'd even been given a name that meant “white snow,” as she was albino, and hatched covered all over in soft, white fur. As such, when she heard that Death was encouraging the kukuri to explore the magical side of their own nature, her first thought was of snow. Could she create snow? Summon it from the sky, perhaps? Gwyn had heard there would be a chance to demonstrate magical gifts at the Festival of Death, and was eager to do so, but it would take a lot of

The Festival of Death was in full swing, and the day of the big obstacle course challenge had come at last. Sciuridae, or Scurry, as her friends called her, would be competing. She was eager for the event and had been practicing by building and running her own courses for weeks. Now it was time to head to the starting line at the festival grounds. As Scurry crossed the grounds, she took in the sights. Garlands of bright orange blossoms wrapped around lamp posts and draped between them. Kukuri pups crowded around an elaborately crafted, tiny stage, where puppets acted out the story of Life and Death, of their struggle, Death's sacrifice, and her rebirth. There were neat rows of tables and rugs laden with goods for sale, grills with savoury roasting meats and veggies, and carts full of sweets. The dove stopped at one of the vendors selling skewers of grilled meat, and exchanged a few carefully gathered feathers for a quick snack, then continued on her way, nibbling as she

When Nascha had befriended Nougat, the little elf-eared dove had been shocked to find that the rook knew almost nothing of the Goddesses, Life and Death. In a way it made sense, of course. The kind people at the rescue who had raised him didn't know as much about the Kukuri and their creators as others of their kind would have, and they couldn't teach what they themselves didn't know. She had spent an entire day telling the large amber Prairie all about Life and Death, of their creating all Kukuri, of their falling into disagreement and conflict. She told him about the Carnival of Life each fall and the Festival of Death in the spring. She even told him how Death herself had died and been reborn. Nougat had listened intently to all of it, ears alert. Afterward, he lay quiet and still, and as the silence stretched on, Nascha began to wonder if he'd fallen asleep. Since he had no eyes to close, it could be hard to tell sometimes when he was lying down, whether he was thinking or