Karifeather

Skippy was once a New Holland Honeyeater, living in a peaceful patch of sandstone heath on the east coast of Australia. He lived with his parents and assorted siblings in a large family flock, and for a time the flowers were plentiful, the weather warm, and all was right in Skippy's world. Of course, it hadn't rained in quite a while, and the season was only getting hotter, but to Skippy this whole 'seasons' thing was fairly new experience. But one day, a hot wind came out of the west. It carried with it the smell of smoke and the cries of hawks, and Skippy's family was very concerned. The older birds knew the hazards of fire, but with so many young children, they weren't prepared to weather one this year.

When the fire reached their heath, it was wickedly fast and burning hot. Although they had tried to prepare the chicks, fires are deadly and chaotic, and there is so little any small bird can do. Skippy and his family fled as fast as their wings would carry them. The smoke was choking, the noises of cracking and spitting flames deafening. High above, hawks circled, waiting for the panicked escapees. Beneath them, animals of all shapes and sizes fled the terrible blaze.

Skippy flew hard, but he was young and new to flight, and lost his family in a careless turn. The smoke burned his eyes and throat, and the deafening roar of the fire drowned out his pitiful chirps. In a panic, he continued flying, as fast and as far as he could. Finally he reached the sandstone cliffs of the coast. Exhausted, he rested in the shade under and overhang, still crying for his family. It is perhaps fortunate that no one else heard him.

By nightfall, the fire had exhausted itself, and was down to embers and smoking stumps. Skippy stayed in the cliffs that night, but by dawn he was flying back over the ruin of his heath, desperately calling out for his family. In the muted morning light, the landscape was unrecognisable to him. He couldn't see their favourite flower bush, or the roosting tree, or the patch of good-spiky-shelter plant. He flew on. It was a long stretch of coastline, and Skippy too young to know it well. For days he circled the stark landscape. No other birds called out, and for a time the ground was still too hot to perch. Every morning and dusk he would sing for his family, but he never received a reply.

A season passed this way. Skippy was independent enough to forage, and he learnt the lay of the newly bared land. After a time, many of the heath plants resprouted - most proceeded to flower extravagantly, and for a time there was food aplenty. But even with the new growth, the bared skeletons of the previous heath remained, and Skippy couldn't find anything that he remembered of his old home.

This was how Cue found him, desperate and alone among the once-more lively bush. The small bird quickly attached himself to the large and friendly spirit, looking for any sign of comfort. Cue, with her love for children, couldn't resist one in need, but though she tried as well, neither could find evidence of Skippy's family. Taking pity on him, she transformed him into an esk, figuring that a life as a spirit was better than being lost and alone without a home.

Skippy remembers his life, but the transformation gave him some remove. He is still sad about his family, but he tries to believe that they are safe and well out there somewhere. He was a juvenile when he was transformed, and retains a bright and cheeky personality. He is very gregarious and a tad sarcastic, and would love nothing more than to make a new family with other esk.
 

Visual Description

Skippy is a medium/small esk with a build that is a cross between a wallaby and a raptor, with large hindquarters and shorter front legs. His fur is generally short and very soft, and fades from a light tan to grey at the tail. His face has a bright yellow mask, with a bold white bottom half. He has no mouth or nose, and almond-shaped, pupil-less black eyes. His fur is slightly longer on the back of his neck, and capable of standing on end if he is angry or surprised, like hackles. His legs have a white gradient, and his toes have pale green tips like a flannel flower (these are not claws). He has two rows of paler spots that extend from his shoulder onto his tail. His tail has a cream tip, and is flexible like a cats - he can control every inch of it. It usually sticks straight up with a little curl at the tip, but he can curl it like a possums or wrap it around himself if he wants. 

Skippy has three different plants in his nature feature. In the center of his chest is a single flannel flower, a white flower with nine soft, velvety petals with pale green tips. A couple of pale green, fuzzy flannel flower leaves peak out from behind the flower. On either side of the flower, two dried coastal banksia leaves extend like wings (he has four total). The white bottom side of the leaves face outward, while the top of the leaves are a warm brown. On his back behind his shoulder blades are three tea tree twigs. These are a dark grey, with a rough, stringy bark, and a number of round seed pods.

Skippy is primarily quadrupedal, with a hopping gait much like a rabbit - his front and back legs move in tandem when he is moving slowly. He is able to sit up on his hind legs, and those powerful hindquarters allow him to jump very high and far. When he needs to sprint, he reverts to a raptor-like run, lifting his front legs off the ground entirely, and stretching his tail out behind him for balance. He's really only good for short sprints, and will soon return to all-fours. He is very bouncy and curious, and is often spotted sitting upright.