Time was aging him. No longer was he a spindley legged newborn, nor a fluffy tailed weanling. Time was changing all things including his hides hue. The deep purple was now lightening. His wing tips almost a pastel now. They were stronger now too. Able to transport him easily upon the breeze. His new found freedom brought him across the Tagia skies from Sylva and over another forested land. Activity bustled below so he decided to take a look see...
Landing from the skies was a breeze now. Even maneuvering through the canopies had become easy. Hazel orbs scanned the terrain he now stood upon. Such a bland view they had down here. Resricted by the thick trees and brush. Pitty. Wings rested at his side's as he twisted thru the land. Nares drew in scents of so many others. Curiousity was getting the best of him these days. Not seeking anyone specifically he waited for someone of interest to pass by...
COTY
Assailant -- Year 226
QOTY
"But the dream, the echo, slips from him as quickly as he had found it and as consciousness comes to him (a slap and not the gentle waves of oceanic tides), it dissolves entirely. His muscles relax as the cold claims him again, as the numbness sets in, and when his grey eyes open, there’s nothing but the faint after burn of a dream often trod and never remembered." --Brigade, written by Laura
[Open] If that Mockingbird Don't Sing...
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