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Spearmaster looked down at the young vulture in-front of it. If it could smile, it would.
That little, adorably ugly creature it was looking at, was it’s son. It’s son, who would some day grow up to be something large and murderous.
It couldn’t believe it.
Bartholamew was his name, Bartholamew the vulture.
The vulture that had barley started opening its eyes, and making sounds that replicated ways of speech. It could swear that it heard him calling Saint by it’s name the other day.
Suddenly
A soft sound came from the young vulture.
“Pa..” he said softly, moving towards Spears. “Pa..pap” he repeated the sound again, this time looking up at it.
Spears sat down in front of the young vulture, allowing him wobble onto its lap. The soft sounds continued, as he rubbed against spears, specifically against the scar on its chest from when it got a pearled brutally ripped from its body.
“Did I ever tell you how that happened?” It asked, looking down at the vulture, who was staring up at it with curiosity. “No, of course I haven’t.” It said with a slight laugh.
Spears gently placed one of its paws on the vulture’s small head. Explaining what happened, but not going into to much detail.
“Your uncle Pebbles used to be a lot meaner and grumpier than he is now.” It said, the young vulture playfully flapped it’s wings in response. Spears eyes brightened seeing it happen.
The little thing that had hatched from an egg it found only a few weeks ago, was there, sitting in its lap and engaged in a small conversation.
It’s son, the baby boy who’d been the reason for so much joy in its life in those past few weeks. The baby boy who it loved so, so much.