Ravin
11-25-2024, 10:06 PM
I woke before dawn as I often did, and watched the sky lighten at the edges of the dark canopy. The thick boughs of the Mother Tree block most of the sky, but they keep off most of the rain that I can hear pattering far overhead. I stretch out my left wing, the one not tucked in tight between Luvi and I, and twist my golden head around to see if she’s awake.
No, she’s still snoring, her head draped over the foreleg of a pale golden lioness whose toothsome mouth is hanging half open as she, too, slumbers.
Leaning to the left, I slowly extricate myself, and move quietly to the edge of the canopy of thick boughs, where I see that the rain has stopped and the sky lightened enough to see by, enough that I can hear the watery sounds of early birdsong through the chilly air.
I glance over my shoulder to see that Luvi is stretching but not quite awake, and I know that the pair of them will not sleep much longer, and that they’ll come after me whenever they do. I know that I should wait, that the two strangers that my mom had brought back deserve their rest, but I am too eager to wait.
Keeping my colorfully feathered wings close to my golden sides, I make my way up the bank of the spring-widened stream. It is hardly more than ankle deep, even in the wettest season, and I jump over it easily when I reach the meadow in which my family most often stays.
Rather than stop, I continue on upstream, my careful hoofsteps slowing as I draw near the shelter my mother had shown them to. It’s just around the bend, I know, but I’m not quite bold enough to take those final steps. Instead, I pace back and forth a few times, not realizing how loud I am being, and then losing my courage entirely I turn and bolt back to the meadow, where I intend to wait for someone - whether its the strangers or my sister and mother - to find me.
@Cascadia
No, she’s still snoring, her head draped over the foreleg of a pale golden lioness whose toothsome mouth is hanging half open as she, too, slumbers.
Leaning to the left, I slowly extricate myself, and move quietly to the edge of the canopy of thick boughs, where I see that the rain has stopped and the sky lightened enough to see by, enough that I can hear the watery sounds of early birdsong through the chilly air.
I glance over my shoulder to see that Luvi is stretching but not quite awake, and I know that the pair of them will not sleep much longer, and that they’ll come after me whenever they do. I know that I should wait, that the two strangers that my mom had brought back deserve their rest, but I am too eager to wait.
Keeping my colorfully feathered wings close to my golden sides, I make my way up the bank of the spring-widened stream. It is hardly more than ankle deep, even in the wettest season, and I jump over it easily when I reach the meadow in which my family most often stays.
Rather than stop, I continue on upstream, my careful hoofsteps slowing as I draw near the shelter my mother had shown them to. It’s just around the bend, I know, but I’m not quite bold enough to take those final steps. Instead, I pace back and forth a few times, not realizing how loud I am being, and then losing my courage entirely I turn and bolt back to the meadow, where I intend to wait for someone - whether its the strangers or my sister and mother - to find me.
@Cascadia