>>16398784Luchy continues to shiver in the cold, but he tries to resist it, as impossible as it may seem. It's a well-known fact that ice will destroy him if he stays out too long.
His thoughts reflect to a certain boy as he waits in the frosty rigid front yard, smack dab in the middle of suburbia.
"Haaaaaaaaaaawluch....."
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>YEARS AGO, IN A REGION FAR FAR AWAY. . . The hawk hobbles with iffy steps as he maneuvers through the forest, covered in bruises and the like. With deep breaths, he pauses near a tree, feeling nothing but repulsive angst and betrayal.
He has just been kicked out of his flock by a rival Hawlucha who's usurped him in the ranks. And not only that, swept his beloved away in the process. The tough guy birds he used to call his friends have left him for dead.
"Haaaaw.....hawwwwluch....."
Feeling weary and depleted of all energy, he slumps down the tree and can only wait for what he assumes is his forthcoming death.
It was a hard fight, the bird put his all, he threw his cards all on the table, but it simply wasn't enough to counter an entire horde of hawks. It was like going up against multiple perfect copies of himself, there was no chance in hell he was going to make it, but he dove right in anyway.
Now he's on the run from them and if he doesn't keep running, he's going to get the gas.
The Hawlucha tries to get up, but his leg is killing him, it refuses to keep up, anymore weight on that foot and he'll collapse altogether. Despite being a Flying-type, he hasn't mastery of 'actually flying' yet.
As far as his species goes, to soar in the skies is the most greatest of achievements.
"Haaaaaaw....luchaaa....." growing more detrimental as the seconds tick by, the Hawlucha waits for his inevitable death rather than prolong it. Let it be known here that the hawk died loyally in the woods rather than at the hands of his former comrades.
