A pterodactyl races to save the life of her weakest chick as a catastrophe looms.
(300-word story practice)
Roagga screeched as the lightning flashed across the dark sky. The End of The World was near. The People of the Skies had been predicting this for many sun cycles.
Roagga had been afforded little time to prepare her chicks. In desperation, she realized that she had no alternative but to pick them up by their necks in her razor-sharp beak and transport them to the underground caves. She had delivered two from the nest and had only one more to go.
Kroagg cried as Roagga picked him up, as gingerly as was possible for a pterodactyl mother. He was the weakest chick of the brood, yet Roagga held tender feelings for him. It was not her people's way to show mercy to the weak, but Roagga knew herself to be different since the very moment that she had been hatched as a sickly chick long ago. Her body had been weak but her soul had been strong and she had survived. She had always allowed her spirit to lead her, and right now her spirit was bidding her to save her son. Perhaps it was all in vain, but if the world was about to end she was willing to take that chance.
"Stop squirming, Little One," she thought, willing the creature to calm himself so that she could transport him without dropping his tiny, precious body. He flapped helplessly in her beak.
She cast her fears for all her progeny away and flew inside herself to the nest of her soul. As she entered the serene silence, she felt her chick come with her. His body quivered as he at last grew still.
The hellish lightning split her nest to pieces, setting it on fire as she whisked her dead nestling away into the night.