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You can’t fly... Silas reminded his bonded grimly after the announcement had been called far up above. She’d been watching the turtle (a character of this land who she was yet to meet), intrigue plaguing the young, mild expression on her face. But he was wrong. Africa’s long ears slipped backwards and licking flames devoured them hungrily. I can do this! she insisted, fidgeting across tingling knees. Perhaps the method of her travel was unorthodox, and maybe there was no actual chance for her to win, but the Starry-Eyed felt not the restriction of her situation- she had faith and determination which so many around her seemed to forget. She was excited, and hot adrenaline was already coursing through the labyrinth-like network of her veins.
The eager one-winged mare’s skull lowered, soft lips suspended barely inches from the lush sweet grass of the lofty land, and she began to focus her energy; the buzzing activity and hum through the bright atmosphere fading out of her awareness. All at once her bones began to crack and twist and tendons released their grip- Silas was flung from his perch by her withers. Ligaments began to shrivel, and taught mottled canvas shrunk as the skeletal structure beneath contracted. The fire icing the wild tangle of her thick long mane ceased, and all hair adorning her elegant frame dissolved. Feathers started to sprout, itchy pins shedding their sheaths in seconds to reveal a plush mat of glossy grey-hues; and they covered her entirely. Forelegs vanished, and wings instead grew by new shoulders, and sharp talons formed where the hooves on her hind-legs had been. A hooked beak, white mask and then tiny pin-hole ears, and the transformation was complete- though it was not without pain, and the parrot revealed stood stunned for a little while longer; waiting for the pain of the transition to subside.
As her mind began to clear and the sting through her considerably smaller core waned, the parrot’s bright cream eyes peeled open and between widening wings, she lurched upwards. The Zephyr followed closely, respecting her resolve, but concerned all the same that a race such as this could bruise terribly her confidence. Already a small group had gathered around the Earth Turtle; a number of faces she recognized with a broad smile, some she knew and noted with mild indifference, and to the strangers she civilly nodded. Perhaps her appearance among them might have been as unexpected as the floating turtle himself. Nevertheless, she was not deterred from her decision to compete, to honour her God and this act of generosity towards his followers with all of her effort.
READY. SET. GO!
Wildly thrust wings sliced through air and there was a frenzy of whooshing feathers and igniting fire around her. Their momentum whipped up wind enough to completely unbalance her position amongst them and she flailed helplessly, as thrashing limbs and panting bodies wheeled from her reach. Go! Silas urged, the desperation of his voice unspoken waking her instantly from the daze she’d descended into. Already her winged kin were barely black silhouettes in the distance, and the stocky parrot lunged forward after them, pinning pupils searching ambitiously for the first of the golden rings along the course.
I can see it, there! she shrieked through their bond a small while later, but the Zephyr could see already the gleaming skin of the hanging loop already a long way ahead. His wings were long and angled, steady, and his lithe build was crafted for such enduring flights as this, but the parrot’s stocky body was almost entirely the opposite in every respect. She was stocky, stout and the feathers flanking each wing, as well as those red set into her tail, were blunt for short travel between fruiting trees. She was falling behind quickly.
It had been many years since Africa had soared in her true form through the thermals and fast-flowing highways of the sky. She did not remember them well, nor could she recall how to find them. But Silas was a regular user. He guided her gradually upwards, very gradually, until at last she felt the grand tug of the high altitude corridor, and though the air was thin and cold, she was able to rest her toiling arms for a while. Quickly there she made ground (though naturally not as quickly as those magnificently able creatures before her), and when finally the shining gold ring dangled beneath, the parrot tucked carefully her wings against the rippling feathers on her body.
Down, down... she plunged, and Silas swooped with her.
Near level with the target, the bird thrust open her wings and her fall ended with a rather dramatic jolt. She slipped slowly through and sheer delight, an overwhelming sense of I told you so, spilt from her reeling mind into his. Keep going! he pressed then, noting the waver of her forward motion, and they sauntered forward again together a good way behind the pack.
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:: Pegasus Flying Race ::
