The pteranodon that would one day be called Myfanwy settled on her perch, eying the odd creature below her with interest. It was the color of the sky late in the day, before it darkened and the night came into power. It had appeared in that spot during the morning hours, its cries echoing through the jungle. Several small creatures had emerged from its bowels only to disappear into the trees - she could not tell if they were children or escaping prey.
She was curious. It was rare that any creature surprised her and she relished the moment. She was ruler of the air, yet she had not seen this new creature moving along the ground or flowing in the sky. It had come from somewhere beyond her sight.
The new creature had a beautiful song. The sound played in her head over and over, remind her of past days even though it was unlike anything she had ever heard before. She felt the urge to brush against the being, offering herself to it even though she somehow knew it would not give her any hatchlings. But her mate had been gone so long . . . surely a new nest was not a possibility for her anyway.
A loud mixture of sounds - all of them harsh and unfamiliar to her - filled the air. The small ones were back. She watched carefully as they made their way to the creature's side. They were not prey, then; offspring seemed the only other option. Yet they looked nothing like the one she had been observing. The object of her attention was unique in every way, beautiful and mysterious, but they . . . they looked like the small pests that ran from her shadow. Larger, yes, but similar.
The loud cry from earlier rent the air, causing her to shriek in pain and confusion as she reeled back. That sound was one of pain. The lovely song was fading, pulling away from her. Blindly she flew from her perch, aiming herself in a downward direction. She could feel it leaving her; their connection was shattering.
Stretching her claws, she reached wildly for the sky-colored creature. Her talons hit nothing but air as the last remnant faded away, leaving only the wind behind.
With an angry shriek, she pulled out of her dive and instead headed upward. The song was gone, replaced with an empty silence. She was so consumed with anger and hurt that she didn't notice the biting taste in the air until it was too late. Her trees disappeared in a momentary flash of pain, delicately carved towers replacing them.
Screeching, she spun around and around in midair. Then she paused, her gaze focusing on a high tower. It shone with the light it captured from the sun. There was something . . . .
It was the song. The sound was softer, faded - it was an echo of the one she had heard. But it was there, calling to her. It made her feel complete.
Her forests all but forgotten, she set off. She couldn't make the other wait. It was there somewhere, waiting for her.
She only had to find it.