Fawnhawk

A fawnhawk is a creature, rarely sited, but sometimes heard crying in the hills by small children. She is rarely spoken of by them and never without a mad glimmer in their tiny eyes. The Fawnhawk, though usually benevolent, when fed whisky, bursts into flame and descends on small villages with the fury of ten thousands wraiths. Humans have occasionally tempted their fates by seeking the Fawnhawk with malicious, self glorifying intentions. The few who have returned can only repeat over and over again “Oubliat moi, an jour tu et fini.” Regardless if they have ever before spoken or understood the French tongue. Roughly translated it means “Forget me, one day it will all be over”. Oddly the Fawnhawk is traditionally sighted in the Black Hills of South Dakota. Asteroids and crushed men with evil hearts have been split and severed, their blood, mapping the twisting pantheon of the fawnhawk bloodline. Like the prime meridian, the fawnhawk turns translucent under lightning, tearing raindrops from hailstorms with it’s almighty talons. The mating ritual is a metal thrash – a creation myth that cannot be fathomed by mortal eyes. The white bellied females watch from the trees while the men interlock talons and spin in the sky eating sea snakes and spitting seven secret words.