12-19-2017, 11:18 PM
She stood, the edge of the tree line daunting. The sun ached her eyes, as if she was a vampire only able to be exposed to the pastel moon. There was something triggering about staring out into the field of tinted yellow grass, dying as Autumn did every year in a dramatic colourful exit of fallen red, yellow, and orange soldiers. It was a scenery of never ending, a landscape to swallow her whole.
Our little bird had realized the very vulnerability of her own existence, and it proved to be petrifying.
One claw forward, the light snap of a twig spooking her sideways, her wings fluttering in a mess of partial takeoff and utter awkwardness. Her nostrils widened as she lowered her head to the dirt, a deep inhale before exhaling a loud snort. Her ears trickled backwards to the coo of a song bird, her heart pace quickening with every ticking second.
It wasn’t until she lifted her head she realized her entire body had been exposed to the yellow sunlight that beamed down on her malnourished, pale blue roan coat. Her feathers dull from lack of bathing. Every inch of her was thin, and frail. Her mane a tangled mess of forest residue and wind tied knots. Along the side of her ribs a long scar tracing upwards in a slashing motion, only visible when her wings fluttered or stretched.
Perhaps it was the focus on fear itself, the idea of being completely at mercy of life itself, that she didn’t hear the nearby traveller. Perhaps if she had, she would have hidden back into the shadows, blending into her secret abyss and attempting a more social lifestyle next year. Either way, she wouldn’t have stood still like she did.
Her head swung around, the left side of her face visible though her vision slightly impaired from the harsh sun. Her eyes scanned over his deep, royal purple toned coat with his enchanting horns and familiar wings. Briefly, her mouth opened with what she hoped to be a voice of confidence, and experience.
It turned to be a meek, “hi”.
Our little bird had realized the very vulnerability of her own existence, and it proved to be petrifying.
One claw forward, the light snap of a twig spooking her sideways, her wings fluttering in a mess of partial takeoff and utter awkwardness. Her nostrils widened as she lowered her head to the dirt, a deep inhale before exhaling a loud snort. Her ears trickled backwards to the coo of a song bird, her heart pace quickening with every ticking second.
It wasn’t until she lifted her head she realized her entire body had been exposed to the yellow sunlight that beamed down on her malnourished, pale blue roan coat. Her feathers dull from lack of bathing. Every inch of her was thin, and frail. Her mane a tangled mess of forest residue and wind tied knots. Along the side of her ribs a long scar tracing upwards in a slashing motion, only visible when her wings fluttered or stretched.
Perhaps it was the focus on fear itself, the idea of being completely at mercy of life itself, that she didn’t hear the nearby traveller. Perhaps if she had, she would have hidden back into the shadows, blending into her secret abyss and attempting a more social lifestyle next year. Either way, she wouldn’t have stood still like she did.
Her head swung around, the left side of her face visible though her vision slightly impaired from the harsh sun. Her eyes scanned over his deep, royal purple toned coat with his enchanting horns and familiar wings. Briefly, her mouth opened with what she hoped to be a voice of confidence, and experience.
It turned to be a meek, “hi”.
B r i n e