Tragedy in three parts, starring Batjohn and Fawnlock when young. Fawnlock was running through the forest, enjoying the day as the evening sun painted the trees and grass red. He wouldn’t need to be home for a long time, yet, there was time to explore and enjoy. He was looking for some unusual songbirds he had heard singing to each other, and as he passed through a less dense area of forest something caught his attention out of corner of his eye. He turned back and looked closer, and saw that here it wasn’t just the red of the sunlight filtering through the trees. A bat stretched out on top of a bush, brown fur mixed with rusty brown of partially-dried blood. It had been just left there, so it wasn’t killed for meat, it was just… killed for fun. Perhaps it had flown a small way away from the attack to land here, finally unable to continue. Fawnlock frowned, and looked closer, and was surprised to see a much smaller brown bat clinging to the dead one’s back, and it was breathing. Its left wing was partially torn up, and it was soaked in both its own blood and the blood of its mother. Fawnlock bent over and held out his hands gently, cooing as he tried to comfort the tiny bat, who flinched away from him at first. After a few minutes of trilling and gentle stroking, Fawnlock finally coaxed the tiny, shaking bat off of the corpse, and held it to his chest as he slowly made his way back home. The bat clung to him and whimpered all the way home.
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Tragedy in three parts, starring Batjohn and Fawnlock when young. Fawnlock was running through the forest, enjoying the day as the evening sun painted the trees and grass red. He wouldn’t need to be home for a long time, yet, there was time to explore and enjoy. He was looking for some unusual songbirds he had heard singing to each other, and as he passed through a less dense area of forest something caught his attention out of corner of his eye. He turned back and looked closer, and saw that here it wasn’t just the red of the sunlight filtering through the trees. A bat stretched out on top of a bush, brown fur mixed with rusty brown of partially-dried blood. It had been just left there, so it wasn’t killed for meat, it was just… killed for fun. Perhaps it had flown a small way away from the attack to land here, finally unable to continue. Fawnlock frowned, and looked closer, and was surprised to see a much smaller brown bat clinging to the dead one’s back, and it was breathing. Its left wing was partially torn up, and it was soaked in both its own blood and the blood of its mother. Fawnlock bent over and held out his hands gently, cooing as he tried to comfort the tiny bat, who flinched away from him at first. After a few minutes of trilling and gentle stroking, Fawnlock finally coaxed the tiny, shaking bat off of the corpse, and held it to his chest as he slowly made his way back home. The bat clung to him and whimpered all the way home.
Zoom Info
Tragedy in three parts, starring Batjohn and Fawnlock when young. Fawnlock was running through the forest, enjoying the day as the evening sun painted the trees and grass red. He wouldn’t need to be home for a long time, yet, there was time to explore and enjoy. He was looking for some unusual songbirds he had heard singing to each other, and as he passed through a less dense area of forest something caught his attention out of corner of his eye. He turned back and looked closer, and saw that here it wasn’t just the red of the sunlight filtering through the trees. A bat stretched out on top of a bush, brown fur mixed with rusty brown of partially-dried blood. It had been just left there, so it wasn’t killed for meat, it was just… killed for fun. Perhaps it had flown a small way away from the attack to land here, finally unable to continue. Fawnlock frowned, and looked closer, and was surprised to see a much smaller brown bat clinging to the dead one’s back, and it was breathing. Its left wing was partially torn up, and it was soaked in both its own blood and the blood of its mother. Fawnlock bent over and held out his hands gently, cooing as he tried to comfort the tiny bat, who flinched away from him at first. After a few minutes of trilling and gentle stroking, Fawnlock finally coaxed the tiny, shaking bat off of the corpse, and held it to his chest as he slowly made his way back home. The bat clung to him and whimpered all the way home.
Zoom Info

Tragedy in three parts, starring Batjohn and Fawnlock when young.

Fawnlock was running through the forest, enjoying the day as the evening sun painted the trees and grass red. He wouldn’t need to be home for a long time, yet, there was time to explore and enjoy.

He was looking for some unusual songbirds he had heard singing to each other, and as he passed through a less dense area of forest something caught his attention out of corner of his eye. He turned back and looked closer, and saw that here it wasn’t just the red of the sunlight filtering through the trees.

A bat stretched out on top of a bush, brown fur mixed with rusty brown of partially-dried blood. It had been just left there, so it wasn’t killed for meat, it was just… killed for fun. Perhaps it had flown a small way away from the attack to land here, finally unable to continue.

Fawnlock frowned, and looked closer, and was surprised to see a much smaller brown bat clinging to the dead one’s back, and it was breathing. Its left wing was partially torn up, and it was soaked in both its own blood and the blood of its mother.

Fawnlock bent over and held out his hands gently, cooing as he tried to comfort the tiny bat, who flinched away from him at first.

After a few minutes of trilling and gentle stroking, Fawnlock finally coaxed the tiny, shaking bat off of the corpse, and held it to his chest as he slowly made his way back home.

The bat clung to him and whimpered all the way home.

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