Fic: The Polar Bear and the Narwhal
Title: The Polar Bear and the Narwhal
Creator: drizzlydaze
Rating: PG
Setting: AU
Word count: 461
Prompt: A Creepy Tangle in the Bermuda Triangle (AU)
A/N: So I got the same prompt and genre. This is forfoxstarreh. Info on polar bears for the curious. Also of relevance, this and this.
The seals were wising up. Buffy checked the breathing holes once, twice, thrice, six-ce, and no nose came peeping out, small and dark against the floe. The stink of feces and oil lifted away in the wind veil by veil till the lead smelled as white and clean as the ice around it. One time, Faith turned up-Buffy lowered her head, growled-circled round, and, unprecedentedly, touched her nose to Buffy’s. Buffy was so surprised that she almost broke the ice. “I don’t have food for myself,” she told her. “No seals, not even a pup. I literally have zilch to spare.” Faith left and Buffy hadn’t seen her since. Pickings were thin everywhere, it seemed.
Buffy spent a lot of time waiting near breathing holes, the fur of her underbelly flat against the ice. She waited for two days, and all that time she was wishing for the hunt. Eventually, she abandoned post and dove under the sea, enjoying the rush of water through her fur. Buffy liked swimming, long swims, but it had gotten pretty dangerous; where there had been ice floes once, there might not be now. Now she swam the short distance to the kelp. It was a sorry meal, but it was a meal.
Then one day, she smelled something interesting: the smell of warm fat, rolls and rolls that sunk into themselves and marinated in oil and seawater. Her head jerked up. Ears flattened she padded forward, following her nose. She walked and walked until she reached a breathing hole that was strangely large, with little cracks creeping out from the circumference, not neat like the seals’. There, she lay down and waited.
After six hours, something interrupted the water’s surface, a pinpoint that sent out a ripple and ripple more, and it rose up in a thin spiral horn sprouting from firm black skin. The water rose along with it in splashes, trickling down the slippery skin.
A narwhal.
Buffy was on her feet in a flash, muscles tense. This was the fight she’d been aching for. One large black eye turned on her. “Whale, whale, whale, you blow me right out of the water,” she said to it. “How’s that for an ice breaker?” Hey, she hadn’t spoken to anyone in two months. She could afford to go a little overboard.
The whale shifted very expressively: “You think you can take me? This horn has killed bears like you and’s just hungering for another, pet. Don’t you know who I am?”
“Maybe I should ask you that,” she snuffed, rearing up on her hind legs. “I’m the best hunter in the land.”
“They call me Spike,” the whale expressed through its very expressive motions, “and I’m the best hunter in the sea.”
Creator: drizzlydaze
Rating: PG
Setting: AU
Word count: 461
Prompt: A Creepy Tangle in the Bermuda Triangle (AU)
A/N: So I got the same prompt and genre. This is forfoxstarreh. Info on polar bears for the curious. Also of relevance, this and this.
The seals were wising up. Buffy checked the breathing holes once, twice, thrice, six-ce, and no nose came peeping out, small and dark against the floe. The stink of feces and oil lifted away in the wind veil by veil till the lead smelled as white and clean as the ice around it. One time, Faith turned up-Buffy lowered her head, growled-circled round, and, unprecedentedly, touched her nose to Buffy’s. Buffy was so surprised that she almost broke the ice. “I don’t have food for myself,” she told her. “No seals, not even a pup. I literally have zilch to spare.” Faith left and Buffy hadn’t seen her since. Pickings were thin everywhere, it seemed.
Buffy spent a lot of time waiting near breathing holes, the fur of her underbelly flat against the ice. She waited for two days, and all that time she was wishing for the hunt. Eventually, she abandoned post and dove under the sea, enjoying the rush of water through her fur. Buffy liked swimming, long swims, but it had gotten pretty dangerous; where there had been ice floes once, there might not be now. Now she swam the short distance to the kelp. It was a sorry meal, but it was a meal.
Then one day, she smelled something interesting: the smell of warm fat, rolls and rolls that sunk into themselves and marinated in oil and seawater. Her head jerked up. Ears flattened she padded forward, following her nose. She walked and walked until she reached a breathing hole that was strangely large, with little cracks creeping out from the circumference, not neat like the seals’. There, she lay down and waited.
After six hours, something interrupted the water’s surface, a pinpoint that sent out a ripple and ripple more, and it rose up in a thin spiral horn sprouting from firm black skin. The water rose along with it in splashes, trickling down the slippery skin.
A narwhal.
Buffy was on her feet in a flash, muscles tense. This was the fight she’d been aching for. One large black eye turned on her. “Whale, whale, whale, you blow me right out of the water,” she said to it. “How’s that for an ice breaker?” Hey, she hadn’t spoken to anyone in two months. She could afford to go a little overboard.
The whale shifted very expressively: “You think you can take me? This horn has killed bears like you and’s just hungering for another, pet. Don’t you know who I am?”
“Maybe I should ask you that,” she snuffed, rearing up on her hind legs. “I’m the best hunter in the land.”
“They call me Spike,” the whale expressed through its very expressive motions, “and I’m the best hunter in the sea.”