tl note: Sorry for the confusion about the character Meowster, she's actually a canon character named Ms. Meow-It-All and she's a female Felyne.
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Crab meat was the kind of food you craved after going without it for a while, but if you ate until you were stuffed, the mere sight of it could turn your stomach. You wouldn't want to touch it again for a long time.
That was how Morgan felt when he woke that morning. Just seeing the crab shells by the campfire made him a little queasy.
Altaïr, who had stood watch through the latter half of the night, was using the campfire's embers to brew tea. "Have some hot tea," he said, handing Morgan a cup as Morgan woke.
"Thanks," Morgan replied, a little embarrassed as he accepted it.
He was clearly the oldest in the group, yet he felt as though the others had looked after him the entire way.
After draining the hot tea in a few gulps, he quickly got to his feet, put on his armor, tidied the camp, packed the luggage and sleeping bags, and loaded everything back onto the Rathalos Model-09, which had been relegated to use as a transport vehicle.
Once the preparations for departure were complete, he glanced over and saw the little Flying Wyvern still sprawled unconscious on the ground. Morgan snorted, grabbed the creature by the tail, and tossed him like a sack onto the hood of the Rathalos Model-09.
Just then, Isis and the others returned from fetching water.
The group ate a simple breakfast of dry rations with hot tea, then set out.
Their goal was to reach the sea cliff, ten kilometers away, before noon. At a Hunter's pace, they would not even need to walk briskly to make it there by midday, much less treat it as a real journey.
But since they had entered the Mangrove Forest to investigate, speed mattered far less than finding clues.
The entire morning yielded nothing. There were no signs of anything unusual. If anything, the only notable detail was that they had not encountered a single Monster, large or small.
Given the density of life in the Mangrove Forest, that was somewhat abnormal.
However, considering that a group of small Flying Wyverns nested near the sea cliff, it was not entirely strange. The nearby forest might well be their territory.
When the sun was high in the sky, the little Flying Wyvern on the Rathalos Model-09 groggily stirred from unconsciousness.
Sajji poked his head out to look at him, surprise in his voice. "Already awake, meow? I wouldn't have expected such a small creature to be so resistant to tranquilizers, meow."
The juvenile twitched weakly.
He had barely regained consciousness, and his body had yet to recover from the anesthetic. Even if they loosened the rope binding him, he probably could not stand, let alone fly.
Altaïr glanced back. "We're almost at the sea cliff. Everyone, put on your Ghillie Mantles and move quietly.
"Sajji, Clawdia, if the opportunity presents itself, climb to the top of the cliff and look for any unusual traces.
"If there are too many small Flying Wyverns, forget it. Don't take any risks."
As the group continued toward the sea cliff, the juvenile on the vehicle's hood began to struggle harder.
Whether because his strength was gradually returning or because he sensed the Hunters approaching his home, he grew increasingly agitated and restless.
To keep the juvenile from making noise and attracting the small Flying Wyverns on the sea cliff, Morgan took a rubber strap and bound his beak tightly shut, leaving him unable to make a sound.
At last, the group reached the forest's edge. The sea cliff, dozens of meters high and jutting out over the water, rose directly ahead of them.
Sharp cries mingled with the wind and waves, echoing in their ears.
Altaïr looked up and saw several small Flying Wyverns riding the wind as they circled high overhead.
With the exception of a handful of cave-dwelling species, Flying Wyverns, large or small, generally had keen eyesight.
Worried that the wyverns circling overhead might spot them, Altaïr gave a hand signal, and everyone slowly withdrew into the forest.
Taking cover beneath the trees, Altaïr raised his binoculars and studied the cliff face and the sky for a while.
"I've never seen this species of small Flying Wyvern before. Its body is more compact and sturdier than a Remobra's, but its head resembles a bird of prey, like a hawk or falcon.
"Judging by its physical features, it should be the same species as that juvenile." Altaïr lowered his binoculars.
"There are quite a few of them, at least twenty. Sajji, Clawdia, there's no need to risk it."
Now that they had confirmed the juvenile captured the previous day belonged to the same species as the small Flying Wyverns living on the sea cliff, they knew it was a native species, not an invasive one like the Egyurasu.
That meant these small Flying Wyverns probably had no connection to the incident they were investigating, so there was no reason for their hunting partners to take any risks.
"Let me get a closer look," Isis whispered.
Knowing what she intended, Altaïr felt somewhat helpless but reminded her, "Put on your Ghillie Mantle, stay close to the base of the cliff, and be careful."
"Got it!" Isis gave him a thumbs-up, put on the Ghillie Mantle, and ducked low as she stepped beyond the shade of the trees.
Moving quietly, she reached the base of the cliff, raised her binoculars, and spent a long time observing the small Flying Wyverns clinging to the cliff face.
In the end, she reached a conclusion that deeply disappointed her.
Even among the adults, the small Flying Wyverns' wingspans rarely exceeded six meters, roughly comparable to a Mernos's and perhaps even slightly smaller.
It looked like none of them would be taking her flying.
Keeping close to the cliff, she returned to the Mangrove Forest. Isis pulled down the hood of her Ghillie Mantle and said dejectedly, "Let the little one go. Even the adults aren't large enough. He probably can't serve as a flying mount."
Clawdia, who had followed close behind her, wore a strange expression. After hesitating for a few seconds, she finally spoke. "I didn't recognize the juvenile when I first saw him, meow. But now that I've seen these adults... I think I've encountered this species before, meow."
Altaïr, Isis, Morgan, and even Sajji immediately turned toward her with surprise and curiosity.
"What is it? Where did you see one?" Altaïr asked first.
"It was back in Mezeporta. Not out in the wild, but right inside the city, meow. I saw a Hunter from a foreign land who had tamed this kind of small Flying Wyvern as a hunting partner, meow."
"The colors were a little different. The ones I saw had an orange-red tinge to their wings, meow. These have bluish-green wings, meow. It was like the difference between an Ioprey and a Velociprey, meow."
Clawdia looked up at Isis as she continued. "Your father asked what it was back then, and that foreign Hunter called it a 'Halk,' meow. I don't know its scientific name, meow."
"Let's just call it a Hawk Wyvern!" Isis loved naming things, as usual, and her names were as straightforward as ever.
"His head really does look a lot like a hawk's." Altaïr smiled and glanced at Morgan. "Weren't you hoping for a chance encounter with a hunting partner? Isn't this it? What do you think? Want to raise him?"
Morgan looked from Sajji to Clawdia, then at the little Hawk Wyvern wriggling on the hood of the Rathalos Model-09. The disgust on his face was unmistakable.
"Forget it. Since we're here, I might as well send this little beast back home."
Altaïr smiled and spread his hands. "You caught him. It's up to you."
Morgan was a decisive man. He pulled out his Carving Knife and cut away the little Hawk Wyvern's bonds. Seeing that he was still woozy from the anesthetic and unable to fly steadily, Morgan clicked his tongue in annoyance. He grabbed him by the tail, dragged him to the edge of the woods, then swung his arm and hurled him out with all his might.
The little Hawk Wyvern tumbled onto the gravel-strewn beach in full view of the Hawk Wyverns circling overhead.
"Squawk!"
The juvenile cried out in alarm. Unable to fly, he flailed all four limbs and half tumbled, half scrambled back toward the trees.
The Hawk Wyverns that spotted him folded their wings and screeched as they dive-bombed. They did not look like guardians swooping in to protect a lost youngster. They were attacking to drive away an intruder.
"Huh? Aren't those his parents?" Isis exclaimed in surprise.
Altaïr raised an eyebrow. "Maybe he had already reached the age when he was expected to leave the nest and live independently, so the flock drove him out. Coming back would make him an intruder."
The juvenile's wings were too weak for flight, and he was too slow on the ground. The diving 'sentries' would catch him in seconds, and a vicious beating was inevitable. If he could not escape in time, he might even be pecked to death. They would show an independent individual already expelled from the flock no mercy, whether with beak or claw.
The little Hawk Wyvern scrambled frantically back into the woods and, for some reason, made straight for Morgan, the nearest person. He scrambled up his armor, hooked his two wing talons in place, and hung from his back.
Morgan was speechless.
The Hawk Wyverns did not abandon their pursuit merely because the intruder had fled among the trees. They threaded nimbly between branches and vines, then lunged straight at Morgan.
Morgan took a deep breath, unfolded his Heavy Bowgun, and chambered a round of Spread Ammo.
With a deafening bang, the Hawk Wyvern lunging at him was blasted backward and tumbled to the ground. It twitched several times, then lay still.
Startled, the other Hawk Wyverns scattered upward, circling among the trees and letting out sharp cries. A cacophony answered from the sea cliff beyond the forest.
Altaïr's expression changed. "We need to leave, now! They're calling the rest of the pack!"
(Translated by yourtl.app)