03-14-2022, 10:22 PM
Time ran away from him. Kestrell missed the annual meeting with his band, tangled up as he was in Tehpra with Areane. He’d sat in the jungle and counted the angle of a few stars he could see at night, then tracked the sunlight and watched his window of opportunity pass by. During the longest day of winter Kestrell couldn’t join his troupe for the raiding season, and he’d missed it all because of his stubbornness and scorn against Ciri. He really hated himself for that.
At the same time he was grateful. If she hadn’t been so self-important and thorny, Kestrell might’ve actually gone to Hyaline and missed the opportunity growing like a weed in the heart of Beqanna’s volcanic kingdom. Just like the Thane of the Isle, there was another winged star-being residing in the western seat of the Islands. However, unlike Ciri, Areane had actually been quite helpful.
Still… despite trying not to, Kestrell was often reminded of one when seeing the other.
He tried to push the thought out of his mind for as long as possible, lingering a day or two after his leg had time to properly heal. At first he tried convincing himself that a flight north on the deadend of Winter was a waste of time. It would be cold, he told himself; it would be bitterly cold and long, for no reason.
Ciri didn’t even want him around, Kestrell thought one night as he slept with a traveling herd on the edge of Taiga and Nerine. She wanted him to leave her alone - but gave him the recipe for a healing paste - and threatened to hurt him - but told him exactly where to find her.
By the time he’d made his way safely to the tip of the northern Kingdom, Kestrell had just about decided to forget Ciri once and for all, dammit. He was done with crazy, powerful, or crazy powerful sparks between strangers. No matter how tempting.
And then that night he flew to her.
Kestrell took wing by evening, when the sea had calmed enough for him to rise above the choppy waves and head out toward the frozen wasteland. He soared, too high to see his shadow rolling over the dark water as the clouds thickened and ice stung his pelt, unforgiving. He prayed to the Gods for clear skies, had his wish granted (whether the Gods heard him or not we’ll never know), and soon cleared the worst of it to find a night frozen over by the most beautiful stars he’d ever seen.
If the cold hadn’t taken his breath already, then the stars surely did - and there was one in particular that caught his eye, though tonight she looked especially bright.
“Ciri.” Kestrell said in a huff of air, his lips numb from the cold. He landed quickly, and fought with his conscience the entire trip upshore to greet her.
At the same time he was grateful. If she hadn’t been so self-important and thorny, Kestrell might’ve actually gone to Hyaline and missed the opportunity growing like a weed in the heart of Beqanna’s volcanic kingdom. Just like the Thane of the Isle, there was another winged star-being residing in the western seat of the Islands. However, unlike Ciri, Areane had actually been quite helpful.
Still… despite trying not to, Kestrell was often reminded of one when seeing the other.
He tried to push the thought out of his mind for as long as possible, lingering a day or two after his leg had time to properly heal. At first he tried convincing himself that a flight north on the deadend of Winter was a waste of time. It would be cold, he told himself; it would be bitterly cold and long, for no reason.
Ciri didn’t even want him around, Kestrell thought one night as he slept with a traveling herd on the edge of Taiga and Nerine. She wanted him to leave her alone - but gave him the recipe for a healing paste - and threatened to hurt him - but told him exactly where to find her.
By the time he’d made his way safely to the tip of the northern Kingdom, Kestrell had just about decided to forget Ciri once and for all, dammit. He was done with crazy, powerful, or crazy powerful sparks between strangers. No matter how tempting.
And then that night he flew to her.
Kestrell took wing by evening, when the sea had calmed enough for him to rise above the choppy waves and head out toward the frozen wasteland. He soared, too high to see his shadow rolling over the dark water as the clouds thickened and ice stung his pelt, unforgiving. He prayed to the Gods for clear skies, had his wish granted (whether the Gods heard him or not we’ll never know), and soon cleared the worst of it to find a night frozen over by the most beautiful stars he’d ever seen.
If the cold hadn’t taken his breath already, then the stars surely did - and there was one in particular that caught his eye, though tonight she looked especially bright.
“Ciri.” Kestrell said in a huff of air, his lips numb from the cold. He landed quickly, and fought with his conscience the entire trip upshore to greet her.
Image ©Karl Martens
@Ciri