An afternoon medley of light breeze and chirping fairies is suddenly interrupted by the sharp sound of snapping branches. A distant rumble, and then, a deep booming roar followed by the keratinous clacking of beak. The source of all the discord reveals itself in the form of two great byrds locked in ferocious combat.
A male white-faced malleorn has mounted an ambitious predation attempt on a blue gorn. The blue gorn is a prime specimen, average sized and in good health. Such quarry is a rare target for a predatory thescelornid as great as even the malleorn. Even so, the reason for this choice is simple.
Desperation.
The malleorn has gone for weeks without substantial food, and he's nearly ran through his reserves dry. Not to mention, mating season is just over the horizon, and he must acquire himself a great deal of calories if he is to survive the coming fast. This blue gorn could just be the prize he needs.
Unfortunately for the malleorn, this ceratornid will not go down so easy. Though he may not have a noticeable size advantage to his aggressor, his strength and weaponry is a match to his opponent's.
The malleorn rushes to sidestep, jaws agape, aiming for the blue gorn's legs. One solid bite of these bone splintering jaws could easily cripple the giant ceratornid. But as the malleorn flanks, the blue gorn goes in to jab at his leg, but went too low and ends up catching him by the ankle. Seizing the opportunity regardless, the blue gorn pivots in place, dragging the thescelornid stuck to his horns to the left, and throws him against a nearby tree.
The malleorn manages to right himself before he falls prone and scrambles to keep a distance between him and his opponent. His experience tells him to bide his time and find an opening, assessing for any weaknesses, but his hunger overrides all previous sense. He lunges forward again.
The blue gorn does so aswell.
Jaws latched onto horn, the two byrds are at a standoff.
Each one pushing the other, not conceding one another an inch of ground. The malleorn strains, scraping the leaf litter with all his might, the vice like grip of his jaws unrelenting. The blue gorn steadfast in his defense maintains his ground.
A loud snap.
The blue gorn charges ahead but stops in the middle of his steps. The malleorn nearly falls flat on his face, but shakes off the shock. And in his jaws, one half of the blue gorn's right horn, bleeding still from the core.
The malleorn discards the horn and grabs hold of the ceratornid's tail, plucking a mouthful of plumage on the first bite, the blue gorn turns about, but is stopped in his tracks as the malleorn connects his second bite to a more vital area.
Gurgling calls conclude the clash, as the predator wrestles his prey down to the ground, jaws around the blue gorn's throat.
There is hope yet for this malleorn.
