Murdock was going crazy. He was sure of it now, if he hadn't been before. Many times he had found the label of insanity posted to him like a warning light, but as always, he had ignored it. His carefree nature prevented him from dwelling upon serious subjects and devoting any amount of thought toward them, though often the claims of, "You're crazy!" had been meant only in the light of teasing, and had followed some ridiculous stunt or other. Now, however, he was convinced that these weightless accusations held some truth.

His wings were spread out from his sides, his back damp from condensation as he rode a swell of warm air above the tree tops. Overhead, the cloud was low and roiling, the dirty grey masses shifting and twisting despite the absence of wind. He had watched them in awe for several minutes, simply letting the physics of flight keep him aloft while he diverted his attention toward the heavens. The clouds, overcast a few thousand feet up with a broken layer of hanging mere feet above his head, seemed to be coming alive.

The young storm cell brought with it a threat of rain, but that hardly concerned Murdock for the moment. He was lost in thought, emerald eyes searching the smooth bumps of thick vapour for something he was sure had been there only a moment ago. As he had flown toward the mountains, disregarding the ground which lay several hundred feet below in favour of attempting to discern shapes in the cloud layer above, he had seen a shape. It was more than a shape, though; it had been a figure, a creature.

The fine, sculpted head of an animal had seemed to materialize against the mottled backdrop of grey, before lowering toward him. It was darker in colour, but oddly patterned, like snow that had been littered with ash. A foreleg had followed, thin and unmistakable, and shortly after, yet another appeared. It seemed as though the beast was crawling from the cloud layer itself. Though on reflection the image had seemed to appear slowly, in reality it had lasted a mere second. The roiling cloud had twisted, thinned, and the blended together once more, creating for one moment the silhouette of an animal.

He searched the clouds in vain, but the creature did not reappear. It had been a simple trick of the mind combined with the curious development of the cloud, though it had left him feeling strangely hollow. He tore his gaze away from the sky, eyes lowering to the smooth sides of mountains. He was approaching the Heavenly Fields, which seemed to be swamped in cloud and mist. Reluctantly, he began his descent, pulling his wings in against his sides and falling rapidly toward the ground. The animal he had seen was painfully familiar, as if it were a ghost coming back to haunt him. He cursed his imagination.

His landing was rough and uncoordinated. His wings had been spread too late, catching the mist and stirring it in rapidly swirling vortices as his hooves touched down heavily. The grass was damp with cool dew from the morning, the sun’s light weakly piercing the dense fog that had swarmed the field. The air held the warmth of summer, though it was damp and smelled of rain. There would be no chance of further flight until the weather cleared up, and so he seemed doomed to spend his afternoon in the confines of the field. His mind, at least, would keep him entertained if no one else would. He had more than enough to think about.

"talk talk talk"

@[Brisa]