Trekori
i'm freezing, it's not winter yet
but my fingers and toes
are shivering beneath these sheets
and i feel so alone
i don't want to die, i want to sleep
Summer has set in, and if I thought it could get any warmer on these islands, I was wrong. For all of the fuss Brennen made about this being a paradise compared to his old home, I can't help but grumble about the heat. My wings constantly leave sweat-stains on my barrel, and I can't very well walk around with them outstretched like a buffoon now can I?
Grumble grumble grumble.
Huffing, I decide to take action against the wetness beneath my appendages. Shaking out my mane, I shove off from the lagoon I'd been resting near at a trot. When the trees thin out, I stretch my wings and leap into the air. Ah, to fly. My sour mood lifts almost immediately when the sharp wind cools my sides, and for some time, I am content to frequent the clouds, surveying Ischia and occasionally glancing to the border to ensure no trespassers are lurking. Might as well do my duty while I'm up here playing around, right?
But then, someone does catch my gaze, and my curiosity peaks. I have yet to meet any of the Ischians (brothers or not) except for Brennen, Takei, and Andulvar - and if Brennen is serious about this whole mutiny business, I'm sure he must be bringing in more men. Perhaps the little ant-like figure I have spotted down below is one of them; and as my body has more than cooled, I figure, why not get acquainted.
I settle on to the earth easily, folding my wings into my sides. My eyes study the horse, but I don't wait long before piping out a greeting. "Hey." My voice cracks at the word, and I die a thousand internal deaths; but no sense in accentuating the curse of teenagehood with a prolonged silence in its wake. "I'm Trekori, are you from here?"
