Breeding Season

By Sean Mulroy

A REDDISH MOON, TINGED with specks of green and utter black from long abandoned settlements and toxic forests, reached its zenith to shine high in a sky full of bright stars and other floating debris. Swarms of two-headed owls flew under it in a hurry, hooting and flapping wings in wild frenzy; seconds later one thousand giant bats fluttered past screaming and screeching and pursuing the owls hungrily.

Next came Nadie. She had been following the bats, though not for any practical purpose, merely to see if she could keep up. Instead of flying past the moon she spiralled, up up up, towards it. Her skin so pale and spectral she appeared to be merging into that faraway orb. Moonshine could not be told apart from the shimmering hue of her delicate wings; since once moonlight hit them the mix of red, green, gray and black shining through created a color tapestry appearing to be made of the same ethereal material.

Turning in an arc to face the earth, there in the valley below, she spotted an age-worn statue; gigantic in stature and crumbling under the attire of countless years. With fluid grace, Nadie drifted towards that idol of bygone days and was yet to decide whether or not to soar onwards to the breeding grounds or land on its head and take a closer look. She felt a strong inclination to do the latter because her brood-mother had once said these eerie stone figures dotting the landscape were representations of their ancestors; though few actually believed so.

Suddenly, from the direction of the devastated city—what Nadie’s people, the Thrakia, referred to as the breeding grounds—a female of her kind screamed in lust; informing potential suitors she was on heat and in estrus. There, against the black background of dead towers, Nadie saw a silvery sliver glide in sensual motions through the air like a mystical fairy; trailing behind were three other gossamer shapes which the flying vixen pulled along as if on a leash.

So that’s what males look like, thought Nadie and squinted both eyes hoping for a better appraisal.

From this distance it was hard to notice any distinguishing features between her gender and theirs. When Thrakian litters were born, roughly two-thirds were male. After a few days those males would be cast aside to make their own way in the world. Nadie had seen this happen many times and heard the babes whimper and scratch at hive entrances wanting to get back in. Females, on the other hand, stayed in the hive under protection of their mothers even if sickly. Often Nadie wondered where those males would eventually end up, at least ones that survived the initial ordeal, for she knew many didn’t. She’d speculated on how they learnt to communicate with each other; they had no language of their own, and if they lived together, did they have their own hive?

And now she could actually see them; there they were, three adult males, in eyesight, on the outskirts of the breeding grounds journeying inward.

Nadie knew she, too, would have to venture towards the city and perform an ancient rite.

The statue was almost upon her. Yes, she thought, surely there’d be enough time to dally here a few moments.

In this lonely meadow on the outskirts of a ruined metropolis, which tonight, like every night, only had moaning wind for companionship, stood the likeness of a man who’d been standing there for countless ages. Nadie landed on its shoulders and crouched erect. Indeed there was a similarity with the physique of the idol and her own people. Though this statue had no wings or tail, was rather stocky and sturdy and clothed in strange apparel which made the cenotaph seem foreign and weird, if not otherworldly.

Sharp talons on Nadie’s toes clung to the statue’s shoulders and she leaned over its head, her tail sticking up for balance, to see the effigy face to face. If this carved sculpture accurately represented a creature who once existed then it truly had been a strange beast indeed. Portrayed in stone was a muscular body completely useless for flying, unlike Nadie’s, whose limbs were strong but sleek and lithe; relying on a sinewy-strength rather than an aesthetic appeal to attract mates for courtship. The stone figure had small eyes, useless for seeing prey from any great distance or height. This was very different from Nadie whose large peepers rarely blinked and often glowed dull yellow. Curly fur was all over the statue’s head, cheeks, and chin. The Thrakia had no hair anywhere on their bodies and viewed the idea of such a thing as disgusting, if not downright primitive, very much animalistic.

Perhaps the strangest thing of all was the clothing.

In all of Nadie’s life she’d never seen any creature who needed, let alone desired, to wear such a fabric. Her kind preferred the night as a substance to be clothed in, and for most of the year garbed themselves in the humid dark of underground hives; labyrinthine-like structures chipped into fetid earth under hills and near flowing rivers. Realising this difference, she touched the statue’s lips. The stonework was hard and cold; probably like the man’s skin had been. Nadie’s skin was always warm, even when she flew like a leaf on the wind against a cold gale, or got stuck in freezing rain.

Once more a startling call rent the air; again coming from the vicinity of the city, that direction she was subconsciously putting off going to.

She shot her neck up and studied dark shifting shadows of the cityscape. Ancient towers dominated the skyline and threw dark ink over everything. They looked formidable but were mainly hollow inside where whole forests grew and seas of thirsty weeds writhed in the never-ending heat of the land. Nadie slipped her tail around the statue’s neck and reached farther down to touch its hand. Her four fingers fit easily in the palm and for the first time she thought that maybe this statue’s race were the ones who had built the tall towers and constructed those massive toppled bridges whose broken steel trestles flayed over the surrounding landscapes.

A shiver ran up Nadie’s spine at the thought and her imagination began to traverse deep regions of her mind as she followed the meandering idea that if indeed these people built the towers what else had they accomplished?

The thought was short lived though.

Another call rent the air, this time obviously male. Her tail loosened on the statue’s neck, arms flung out and four folds of gossamer extracted from soft flesh underneath. Nadie hissed at the city; then with a mighty push of her feet thrust herself forward into the night sky and pondered little more about the statue but, like anything important, the thought lingered.

***

When flying over city limits, shells of destroyed buildings underneath, Nadie could see mountain-like structures nearer the heart of the breeding grounds. Just thinking of flying to the summit of those colossal obelisks was fatiguing. Between towers were long gardens, shaped like waterless canals, which crisscrossed and skirted about all over the city. Most animals, large sentient ones anyway, who’d normally be out in the open, as this was usually their territory, were hidden away, smartly keeping out of sight. For they’d heard the call of the Thrakia and knew instinctively this was the hottest night of the year and the season Earth’s most dangerous predator came out to mate.

As Nadie flew over empty canals, always at a great height, she looked more at the carpet of stars above which were so clear and bright they lit up the dead city like a bonfire. While doing so she suddenly spied a large orbiting artificial satellite. This brought back memories. For two years prior, one of the first times she’d left the safety of the hive, under supervision of her brood-mother, she’d seen the roving spheroid and the image of it had never really left her mind. She changed her course and flew up up up, above the nearest building, then carefully landed on its hard cement edge. There she crouched and gazed at the lifeless space-station, unaware over a hundred dead bodies of the statue’s race floated pointlessly inside.

The thought that the same people who made the building and constructed the statue had too made the orbiting star did not cross her mind.

Nadie cooed up at it and wondered how many others had done the same.

On a hot night like this, sound echoes far, and if Nadie had been hoping to enjoy a silent reverie while watching the dead satellite she was sorely mistaken.

Screeching like harpies and engaging in violent scuffles, a group of three males descended from distant skies. The speed with which they flew towards Earth and their almost translucent whiteness made each one look like battling streaks of lightning fighting over some withdrawn promise from angry gods. Nadie stood and opened her wings slightly, presenting herself to these three suitors and getting ready to inspect and judge them. They landed rather roughly on the far side of the roof and immediately started moving towards her, screeching at the top of their lungs.

Males almost always had smaller wings than females and were more adept at gliding while women were superior at hunting and aerobatics. One of the males suddenly pushed the other two aside and stepped between them. This was the alpha; he was taller and stronger, his tail whipped about and Nadie noticed he had beautiful control of it. The other two hissed and screeched in rage while baring slavered fangs, then kneeled down, stretching arms forth to show beautiful iridescent patterns on wings that glowed hypnotically under moonlight. The alpha responded likewise immediately and to Nadie’s surprise the two others hung their heads, moving tails between legs to cover their manhood and grovelled backwards.

The alpha watched them until both were at a comfortable distance then straightened his shoulders, spread wings out wide to give his sole audience member a good view, and stepped towards the debutante. Nadie studied her suitor critically. He was quite a specimen; everything Nadie’s brood-mother had said to look for was there—clean complexion, symmetrical shoulders and most important of all, the pattern on the wings. The alpha’s wings certainly were exquisite; the other two suitors paled in comparison. His slim veins were camouflaged so impeccably into the diaphanous webbing of tissue they could not be seen. Like a map of the Earth from above showing ghostly lost continents this male’s pattern was terrestrial—a wispy tenuous symmetry of gauzy delicacy; similar to shadowy river-fog threading through forest paths.

He was healthy and fit; no doubt Nadie’s brood-mother would approve and yet ...

As he drew closer and his face became clear under star-shine, to Nadie’s large eyes it appeared hard and cruel, as cold as the stone on the forgotten statue. She stepped back, at once regretting her action, but then, agreeing with it, repeated the gesture to make sure the alpha knew he’d been rejected. At once the other two suitors took flight and flapped away, understanding if the alpha had been denied they’d have no chance.

Nadie glanced up at the satellite and noticed it had travelled quite a distance since she’d looked Earthward. Approaching the ledge, getting ready to fly away, a strong hand suddenly pulled her back. She fell on the hard cement.

The alpha stood over her like a herculean titan.

Yes indeed, thought Nadie. He is like the stone giant.

Attempting to get up, she was pushed down by the alpha with the heel of his foot. Two sharp talons broke skin on Nadie’s shoulder. The wound stung and she hissed with hatred at him, comprehending only too well this blemish would reduce her chances of getting the absolute best quality of male suitor. The alpha sibilated, his tail whooshed up above his head; the benign stinger there glinted nearly as cruelly as his eyes. Nadie felt the stinger on her own tail tingle, which unlike his was full of potent fluid, but knew this suitor was not the one she wanted to inject with the hot poison inside.

The alpha knelt down. Two brawny hands took Nadie’s hips and were in the process of turning her over, preparing to mount. Suddenly, and with as much anger as Nadie had ever experienced, she howled then cursed the world for its indifference. The Thrakiess pushed the male aside, reached for his nearest pinion, flicked three clawed-fingers out and cut as many straight lines in the fabric of one wing fold.

The alpha was so stunned and horrified he ceased to move.

Nadie took the imperative and both her clawed-hands scratched like mechanised razors, cutting, tearing and ripping his beautiful wings to shreds. The alpha screamed and yowled, though not so much from pain, for the cobweb looking substance did not hurt badly when defaced. But instead with knowledge that his chances of securing a mate this season were now nil and he’d have to wait a whole year, maybe two, for folds of skin to regrow and knit together to form new wings.

With the same mighty push Nadie used to thrust herself off the statue, she kicked this suitor off of her. The sound of her feet against his chest echoed hollowly and he flew through the air like a cannonball. Unconsciously, while in mid-air, he attempted to use his torn wings to fly but the ripped shreds only moved about pathetically. He hit the ground very hard midway across the roof but still managed to crouch up and screech Nadie’s way. The torn gossamer wings he fingered and kneaded through both hands.

Nadie momentarily wondered how he’d fare leaving the breeding grounds; deprived of flight, he’d have a very long trek home.

However, by the time her feet were on the ledge he was almost forgotten and she dove off the roof freefalling temporarily through the sky, descending deep into the pain of her wounds and humiliation. When approaching the point halfway between roof and pavement she flapped out her arms and glided faster than ever before until the whole of the breeding ground became a blur and it seemed the earth and sky were one.

***

Deep night covered the city in its humid embrace; each layer of darkness enwrapped towers and their long shadows until all three merged.

Nadie could not hear herself think as noise of her brethren made the task impossible.

Thousands of Thrakia must have come to the breeding grounds, their screeching and wooing rode the air and echoed rigidly across quiet places. As Nadie flew and glided over broken viaducts and the decimated ruins of ancient urban centers, she spotted large congregations of communal breeding and others of her kind huddled together in mateship throughout isolated nooks and berths which they had claimed for their own. Here noises reached fevered pitch as the Thrakia engaged in heated coupling often in extreme positions; males upside down in rear penetration, females screaming like banshees in transcendent states of copulation. Still others rode the air amidst intercourse. Many flew past Nadie and she noticed their lips bled bright red from aggressive kissing.

There were a few instances of beautiful females caught in the same situation from which Nadie had just escaped; unfortunately for them their suitors, or captors, were nowhere near the quality of the one Nadie refused.

She flew past a large quadrangle where countless males sat or buzzed about pitifully on stunted wings; each one reaching up to her and begging to be destroyed. All males there looked incredibly old, even more aged than the ancient mothers in her hive. Some were so elderly they could no longer fly and probably lived here throughout the year waiting for this one night. Their gross and flabby bodies a patchwork of scars and wounds from successive years of females fighting off unwanted advances. These males had never been chosen and in most cases it was painfully obvious why. Nadie wanted to look away, for they disgusted her, but she kept giving in to the morbid fascination. One old man had a rather bad case of craniofacial duplication, another simply a cleft lip and palate; all defects seemed to be congenital in nature. Most of their skin was not a healthy gossamer either, but a dull grey often with age-spots and other rashes.

Yuck, thought Nadie. I bet they’d taste awful.

Wild animals were here too. Pure orange eyes of fat skeeklers glowed from darkened recesses and moved on when aware one of the Thrakia had noticed them. A mepthri with enormous tusks and a shaggy green mane slithered along on pulpy tentacles for the briefest of moments in a knotty grove. Nadie felt an almost uncontrollable urge to hunt. Any other night of the year she would have, but tonight a different gene was at work inside her and it was the only one powerful enough to override hunger.

While flying about, looking to find a mate, she began to regret her earlier decision to cast aside the alpha merely because of the sharp glint in his eyes. This feeling only heightened when two males, obviously having trouble finding a partner, spotted her and decided to pursue. Seeing their physiques Nadie was discouraged. Not only were they inferior to the alpha they were downright unattractive and would probably find no mate even if they stayed in the breeding grounds till dawn.

Perhaps one day they’ll end up as just another of the old males in the quadrangle.

Dismissing them, Nadie inspected her surroundings searching for the right male and flew higher and higher trying to get a better view. One of the pursuing males suddenly grabbed her foot and tried to pull her towards him. He spotted the two claw marks on her shoulder but then breathed in the air thickly and smiled lustfully as it was apparent Nadie had yet to be partnered and her scent was still all her own.

With a quick motion Nadie retracted her foot from the male’s grasp, her sharp talons cutting crimson wedges on the palm of his hand. The male screamed in pain and the other flew upward against the Moon, then dove down in a dive-bombing position with hands outstretched to collect her. Nadie flapped both arms viciously and only intermittently glanced behind to see if her stalkers were still in pursuit. They were, and followed her for quite a distance; through dripping tunnels and rusted subways, over highways of poisionous flowers and boulevards of singing willows, to avenues of broken mortar, then cobblestone streets covered in slimy moss—until it seemed like every artery and vein of the city had been traversed.

Nadie, of course, was only tormenting them, and once bored she forged ahead and left the two stragglers far behind until only their anguished moans had any chance of reaching her.

Without meaning to, Nadie had flown into the heart of the city. Here buildings were more condensed and darker. Glancing up at stars was like seeing a jigsaw puzzle with missing pieces; buildings blocked a complete view of the cosmic tapestry. Being so deep into the breeding grounds made one feel constricted and trapped, noises sounded faint and far away.

For some reason the Thrakia did not journey to the center of the vast substance but preferred to stay on its outskirts.

Against this backdrop of tall buildings, utterly black, where only starlight fell dimly between sharp edges, flew Nadie, a silvery form appearing to be completely alone and lost in infinity; a small glittery creature more precious than gold swimming through some dark abyss deep under the ocean or a shimmering mote travelling randomly over Earth’s surface through a dark night sky, there for all to see, but that only a few actually would.

***

On and on she flew until her evolutionary quest felt pointless.

Tired of swimming through the murky substance and worried this one night of the year for courtship may be wasted, Nadie swooped down to perch on a terraced balcony of what was once a gothic cathedral. She rested there, surveying the vicinity below and losing hope as it seemed to be entirely empty. Carven gargoyles perched beside her, looking out over the city as well. She touched the cheek of one and wished he’d come to life and mate with her. He, with horns and sharp teeth, was much more attractive than the males she so far had turned down. Seeing only a deep blackness below, Nadie tilted her head upwards. Expecting to behold silent stars blinking at an indifferent universe, suddenly, another gossamer object disturbed the view. Not far away was the tallest citadel in the breeding grounds, an antediluvian façade of a skyscraper; much of the structure had crumbled either from some past disaster or just collapsed due to age, so that the summit was formed in a peak much like a mountain.

Up there, in the highest eyrie in eyesight, was movement.

A sliver of pale silver moved in familiar motions, and yet, with an obvious difference—there was real joy in the act of flying itself.

The silvery form circled and wheeled about the high peak. Round and round the shape flew; swooping here, diving there, flying straight up, then falling helplessly only to catch itself before impacting on the hard roof. Nadie stood up immediately in rapture and awe; leaving the line of crouching gargoyles to be the only sentinels watching over the city below while her eyes turned to a higher vision. Whether the flyer up there was male or female hardly seemed to matter. The impressive feat of flying so high to then simply flutter about in joy impressed her, attracted her so much she needed to know more.

She kissed the lips of the handsome gargoyle, now accepting they’d be the only ones her own would touch tonight, and regretted not doing the same to the giant statue in the lonely field. Nadie then dived off the platform falling gently into a powerful glide and used that momentum to zoom upwards like a hawk until the motion was exhausted. The lift helped only at first, then she felt the weight of her lower extremities, but pushed on regardless.

Holes larger than the lonely field were in the flesh of the building; Nadie could see straight through them to the other side. The higher she flew, the demarcation of where the breeding grounds ended and surrounding landscapes gradually flowed back into dank forestry became visible. Every now and then she’d glance up; her destination always seeming so far away it would be impossible to reach.

Putting all effort into her ascent she screeched out in anguish, trying to break through that barrier of physical pain, and saw the silvery flyer near the summit stop its graceful flight to hover momentarily far above. No doubt glancing down to study this imminent visitor; with a quick motion the flyer then disappeared into the dark tower.

Finally, the crest of the tower was in reach. With each flap of her arms the summit got closer and closer. Nearing the top she saw a rupture, one massive bite-mark with serrated edges, behind where a smooth ledge was. She just made it there then collapsed in exhaustion and hugged the chilly concrete surface, her warm breasts and skin pushing into the hard substance cooled them. Fierce winds whipped about and helped revive energy, for at this height gales and breezes were almost insufferably fresh and filled with a primal strength she had never experienced nearer ground.

She rested, breathing heavily and wondered if she’d ever regain enough energy to move.

A whooshing sound suddenly echoed in the dark recesses of the tower.

Nadie glanced up and knew what the sound was; retraction of wings.

Why? For whoever owned wings that could fight such strong winds with ease must surely have magnificent ones. Why would the owner not want to show them off?

Slowly kneeling, orientation returned and her eyes gradually customised to the dark.

A figure was up here, it stood a distance inside, covered in darkness, right on the edge of the smooth platform. Staring into darkness an outline of the flyer could be deciphered—male. He was quite young, the right age. This was almost certainly the first year he’d been old enough to journey here; he was in his prime.

Nadie smiled, two fangs gripped her lower lip in excitement.

This meant the suitor had never been rejected and if Nadie had her way tonight he never would be.

So why was he here? Away from the others and alone; performing a magnificent show none would see or know of save himself—right in the center of the city where he’d have the least chance of being coupled: almost as if he didn’t want to.

Nadie put both taloned feet apart, crossed her arms and waited for the male to present himself. He didn’t do that. In fact, he stepped back a little farther, even looked over the edge into the darkness of the night sky; no doubt thinking about jumping off and flying away. A foolish idea, for once in the air Nadie would be able to catch any male and force him down or rip him to shreds mid-flight. He must have realised so, for his wings retracted even farther.

Becoming quite impatient, Nadie screeched, making sure he knew she was ready to be taken. I just need to see your wings, she thought and pouted at him; expressing the desire. She stepped forward and motioned for him to do the same.

For a brief moment, which felt much longer, he remained motionless—then reluctantly stepped under moonlight. He wasn’t as strong as the alpha male she’d discarded, but in that respect he was certainly the second best she’d seen tonight. Undoubtedly this male had better control of his tail and limbs; was much more interesting at any rate.

She tilted her chin up slightly and stepped even closer, wanting him to do the same.

He did so, though again reluctantly. As star-shine caught his eyes, Nadie knew she’d found her match. There was a deepness in them, a keen intelligence and individuality she did not perceive in the other males. She’d been taught males were good for just two things, and lacked the intelligence and foresight that all women were naturally born with; for these reasons and many others males and females lived apart—to exist side by side in some sort of equality being a completely alien idea for both genders.

A last criteria, although Nadie had made her decision, still had to be inspected. Nadie lifted both arms up high, displaying her womanhood, and her gossamer wings fluttered out. She waited with anticipation for her chosen to do the same. Slowly but surely he repeated the action and Nadie breathed in languidly as multiple incandescent folds slid from skin in straight and strong motions. His pattern was celestial, like the carpet of stars above; exquisite fibrous pinions freckled with shining orbs, each one astral and ambrosial, and smeared with a smudgy illumination reminiscent of star-clusters. With arms raised like that, he looked like a heavenly archangel, his wings seraphic and elysian in nature.

Yes, thought Nadie. This is my pick.

Nadie knew her brood-mother would praise her choice; many times she and her sisters had been schooled in the dank warrens as mother flew above asking what features to look for in a mate. Whoever answered correctly would get thrown a juicy piece of warm mepthri tentacle, with nerve-endings still wiggling. Those who did not only received a cold dead eye or foot of a skeekler chucked in their general direction; which meant it would have to be fought over and someone was going to go hungry that night.

Nadie screeched ferociously, leaving no doubt now was the time. She retracted her wings expecting the male to do the same. Her tail whizzed above her head and the sharp needle of its stinger was visible; gazing forth like a third eye. Nadie expected him to be overwhelmed by lust like the alpha had been but also perhaps to look at it with some fear, she’d been told sometimes they do; although hormones always got the better of them. But no, he didn’t and wasn’t projecting any signals he was on heat, but instead that he didn’t really want to be there, yet had come anyway; beckoned on by a physiological call too strong to resist.

He stared out, looking behind her, at a certain point in the sky.

She turned to look as well. There in the distance, shining like a beacon, was the orbiting satellite winking at both of them. He lifted both hands and fluttered them like butterfly wings in the direction of the satellite.

Nadie laughed. I too would like to fly to it.

This male was interesting and therefore would produce good offspring. He had a love of life, of flying that even in females was rare. No wonder he doesn’t want to couple with me, she thought.

As if accepting his sentence the male moved forward and fell into her arms and she in his. While mating always did Nadie’s stinger waver above his head. When finished the sharp needle struck deep into his neck. This being Nadie’s first time she was amazed at the lack of control over her actions, feeling unnerved they were governed by something else—some invisible force more powerful than both of them, than their species, than the world. Leaving his embrace, which had already started to go cold, she studied the male’s face and caressed clawed-fingers over it. Gazing into his emptying yellowish eyes, she noticed they had not been looking at her. Hers had hardly left him during the act; his had not turned from the blinking satellite which soon would become unseeable. She positioned his head towards her, so those dead eyes peered into hers alone and with a gentle motion closed them.

She laughed again and lifted his shoulders to embrace him one last time.

Fly to the satellite, she thought and chuckled at the absurd idea as she bit into his neck. May as well fly to the Moon.

While feasting she wondered what their children would be like. 

Sean Mulroy is a writer from Newcastle, NSW, Australia. He has worked on a farm, at
a fruit shop, and in Student Services at the University of Newcastle. His short stories have been published in “Every Day Fiction,” “Oblong,” and elsewhere.