stifled the choice and the air in my lungs;
better not to breathe than to breathe a lie
His navy legs are darkened with mud when he reaches Taiga. It had begun sprinkling in the late morning and the sparkling droplets had felt cool in comparison to the humidity of the day. By midday, the hesitant rain had turned into a downpour. The storm seemed to be heading in the same direction as Tiercel, soaking him to the bone until it finally passed him in speed and moved elsewhere. The humidity of the air causes steam to rise from his damp shoulders and back as the golden stallion comes to a stop just past the border of the territory.
The scents of his family are strong in the redwood forest, though Tiercel notices the absences of Marni and Eyas. He wonders if they had flown the nest as he had, throats tight with grief. Pteron’s scent is strong along the border and the smell reminds him of his childhood. There had been times when Pteron would take Tiercel out on a special trip while Wolfbane and Lepis doted over Eyas and Gale learning to use their wings.
The muscle of his shoulders shudders, a reminder that Tiercel’s own sides are naked in comparison to his nest-making, high-flying family. For a flickering moment, isolation radiates from him like a tendril of sunlight winding between shadows. The golden-and-navy stallion harnesses the emotion before it can travel too far and he is placing that black-sheep feeling back where it belongs when a young voice rides through the air.
“CELINA!”
Tiercel’s ears twist toward the depths of the forest, where the dying sunlight illuminates the edges of the trees in strands of gold. For a brief moment, joy fills him like a white-hot lightning bolt. The voice sounds almost identical to Gale and Tiercel wonders if his brother is alive after all. It might be impossible, but the stallion quickly moves deeper into the redwoods. It doesn’t take long for Tiercel to spot the shape of a colt, but the dark red and gold points are a dead giveaway that this is not Gale.
Tiercel allows himself to fade into the background of the forest, becoming invisible among the shadow-and-light. His cerulean eyes scan over the boy with a serious expression, observing the aardwolf markings and feathery wings. Although he is not Gale, this is a son of Wolfbane and Lepis. The markings are Wolfbane, while the faint scent of Lepis lingers on the boy’s skin.
The squelch of the ground beneath his hooves should alert the colt that someone is nearby, but it is only once the boy’s eyes land in the direction of Tiercel that he allows the colors of the forest to fall off his body. Now in the open, his eyes look over the red-and-gold face again. “You look like you belong in this forest,” he says plainly. Tiercel almost laughs to himself at the irony — this brother must have never experienced Loess, whereas he himself has never experienced Taiga. “I’m Tiercel.”
The scents of his family are strong in the redwood forest, though Tiercel notices the absences of Marni and Eyas. He wonders if they had flown the nest as he had, throats tight with grief. Pteron’s scent is strong along the border and the smell reminds him of his childhood. There had been times when Pteron would take Tiercel out on a special trip while Wolfbane and Lepis doted over Eyas and Gale learning to use their wings.
The muscle of his shoulders shudders, a reminder that Tiercel’s own sides are naked in comparison to his nest-making, high-flying family. For a flickering moment, isolation radiates from him like a tendril of sunlight winding between shadows. The golden-and-navy stallion harnesses the emotion before it can travel too far and he is placing that black-sheep feeling back where it belongs when a young voice rides through the air.
“CELINA!”
Tiercel’s ears twist toward the depths of the forest, where the dying sunlight illuminates the edges of the trees in strands of gold. For a brief moment, joy fills him like a white-hot lightning bolt. The voice sounds almost identical to Gale and Tiercel wonders if his brother is alive after all. It might be impossible, but the stallion quickly moves deeper into the redwoods. It doesn’t take long for Tiercel to spot the shape of a colt, but the dark red and gold points are a dead giveaway that this is not Gale.
Tiercel allows himself to fade into the background of the forest, becoming invisible among the shadow-and-light. His cerulean eyes scan over the boy with a serious expression, observing the aardwolf markings and feathery wings. Although he is not Gale, this is a son of Wolfbane and Lepis. The markings are Wolfbane, while the faint scent of Lepis lingers on the boy’s skin.
The squelch of the ground beneath his hooves should alert the colt that someone is nearby, but it is only once the boy’s eyes land in the direction of Tiercel that he allows the colors of the forest to fall off his body. Now in the open, his eyes look over the red-and-gold face again. “You look like you belong in this forest,” he says plainly. Tiercel almost laughs to himself at the irony — this brother must have never experienced Loess, whereas he himself has never experienced Taiga. “I’m Tiercel.”
tiercel.
@[elio] @[Celina]