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Hazy gems leer blankly at the far wall -- they quietly study the grainy composition of that simple, sodden frame. I continue to stare mutely until those nighttime shadows are forced into full retreat. The tiring knowledge that I'd not slept a wink sits accusingly in the back of my groggy mind...leaving my subconscious to shrug distantly. My heartbeat quickens as a warming dawn brings rare beams of sunlight to fall upon hard soil. I release a breath, slowly, trying to quell those submerged flutters that threaten to swell forefront. These curled limbs push stiffly from the floor; lilacs shift briefly to that dark slate on my right and behind me. Another threshold...another dark room. Obviously my folks aren't awake yet.

'Today is the day,' a fact which bore so much more importance than a few measly hours of lost sleep. Overhead, a splash of dim amber burns out a precious glimpse of pale sapphire. I emerge from our turf covered dwelling; shaking free the remaining haze while easily ignoring the anxious chattering that thrums against the roof of my heart. One glance around offers a testimony that everyone is still asleep. All the occupied holes near our hovel are quaint...innocently peaceful. Though there isn't a total hush, a constant southeastern wind almost always whistles; accented by the thrashing of large waves colliding into our nearby cliff face.

Habitually stepping clear of the doorway -- I fluidly unfold my wings. Those pectoral muscles unhinge, allowing long feathers to fan apart. Feathered limbs lunge into action, drumming thickly upon earth. I push off, kicking, pumping hard on the down-stroke. In our language there are no words that can accurately describe that sweet sense of abandon; or how the wind drags his cool fingers across each flight pinion from above and below. I relish these moments, admiring the quiet strength of flesh as powerful muscles cut deep. Lungs suck with raspy drag the arid stench of childhood that coats my tongue. Primary plumes find a comfortable rhythm, each stroke offers further lift into that overcast sky. The corners of my lips curve into a forsaken beam as this body spirals higher; years of lessons remind me to catch updrafts to aid my ascension.

Orbs gaze fondly upon my childhood home, though the longer I look the more the memorized details suddenly seem incomplete. On the eastern horizon is a lengthy drop-off angling into a misty ocean. Directly opposite that bottomless blue, a proud line of slate timber eventually lead into sharp mountains. Both are shrouded, covered with a blanket of mist and likely experiencing a mild torrent. Below me, our sheltered valley sits dead center; a quiet nest of hills. "Puncho!" Her shrill voice lifts, shattering the peace. Coverts rustle as I turn to face her. "Fháil do arse ar an talamh!" Broken Irish mixed with a splash of English -- obviously someone was feeling narky today.

I don't bother acting the maggot...instead, my toes land swiftly; wisely understanding that today wasn't one that this old lady would be merciful of cheeky antics. Once grounded, she approaches -- all the while eyeing my sleep deprived sockets with a vexed look etched into her normally gentle expression. Those lips flatten into a scowl, "Ar ith tú?" Oh bother...I'd forgot. An apologetic smile tugs upon my right cheek, "Níl." Abruptly, she turns aside; expecting me to follow. Her dark hair cascades across the pale line of that painted spine. Meanwhile, Da's coal black frame appears wordlessly in the doorway; his dull irises watch our exchange with guarded wary.

We eat a final a meal together in uncharacteristic silence.

Finally...I can bear it no longer.

"Tá mé ag dul." Ma lifts her head. She and Da exchange a glance before regarding me. My first instinct is to squirm, I resist and instead allow these shoulders to stiffen -- squaring against their scrutiny. "Tá sé agat am." Her voice is unusually soft, awash with concern and taunt with...pain. That sudden exposure of concealed fever sends a tight wave of responding twinges within me. She was right, I had until noon. Noontide is when the trial would officially start. "The sooner I go, the sooner I can return," those words solidify in brisk English, she begs for time...even as I intend to dismiss any argument. We'd run out of time. The corners of those eyes pinch together while the bottom of her dingy jaw shuffles apart. I brace for that verbal lash to fall...only to be further surprised when she says nothing. Rather, her mouth cinches into a hard line of suppression.

She turns abruptly and marches off, heading for our dwelling place. I can feel Da watching me as she leaves. Violets angle unflinchingly to meet his narrowed glare. "She hates the rite of passage." He admits with a voice that reminds me of soft thunder. Though tempted to drop my gaze out of habit, today I'm careful not to. "I know, Da," thankfully my voice remains level, unyielding to the dark emotion swirling in my gut. With our lips set, we stand in silence until Ma returns with a rough spun length of cordage hanging from her jaws. It was fashioned from the soft wool of a young ewe. She lays the lash across my back and instructs me to pull my wings in tightly. The cordage then begins to move of its own accord -- sliding around my barrel and across the top and sides of both feathered limbs. It pulls snugly, biting into my thick plumes. Once the bind is knotted securely, Ma steps back. There is another glance between them when I test the restrain and find it uncomfortable when pressed -- but bearable otherwise.

We walk to the heading of my journey. A tidy, cobbled eyesore that cuts through our hills and meadows. When we come to a stop, I can feel Ma's hot breath and whiskers upon my lower neck. Her velvet lips are a sweet caress, following a gentle path to my withers. Straining, I turn and brush a kiss across that delicate face. Ignoring the wet creases outlining the area just below her lower eyelids. Da is usually not a man of physical shows of affection -- yet he doesn't hesitate to pull me into an embrace. His powerful neck snakes across mine. The folds in my throat tighten; inky fear begins to seep past the wall of resolve I'd spent a year building. "Cuimhnigh," Da whispers into my ear. The nearest audit twists his way, "Don't stray from the path," he warns softly. That common say is usually followed by, "Or else a wee one will cast a curse on you." The warmth in that memory sends a shot of welcome amusement to my core, strengthening my conviction...but when I meet his eyes there is no reflection of humor within. "Don't worry," I reassure them easily -- because I've every intention to complete this journey without falling prey to distraction. These lips try for a smile in vain attempt to offer some measure of comfort for them...and myself.

The old law states that all adolescents are required to go through a pilgrimage trial...it doesn't mention that some are never seen again. I am the third child in the family -- my brother and sister went ahead many years ago. Time passed...but neither ever came home. Abruptly, Ma pulls away with her head tucked, allowing a graceful waterfall of hair to fall across her face like a shield. Da does the same. I'm shocked by a tight yearning that aches deep in my chest. I want desperately to reach for them again -- strengthen my resolve within their protection until it is iron. Instead, these lungs draw a steady breath. My right forelimb rises to step upon the first stone. Once upon the path it is forbidden for me to look back. "I am Sean, son of the sky and sea." The old rite flows from me, hard and numb -- "Mé forsake," never have I harbored doubt in myself or this task, "mé féin chun an domhain." Another couple of steps has me fully immersed, "agus forsake mo birthright." I never thought my heart would yearn for something so fundamental...

My jaw hardens when a quiet shuffle signals the arrival of friends and neighbors; who all gather behind my parents. I wasn't permitted to look at them, "Go dtí go thagann deireadh leis an cosán."

The weight of their combined stare becomes to much for my mind to imagine. I urge these limbs to a faster pace; my toes clip smartly against the puzzled stone. With bent ears I hear a soft murmur behind me, mingling with something that sounds like a choking sob. A sad thorn prods my heart and I'm overcome with the desire to get out from beneath their eyes...Feathered legs willingly jut faster, pulling me into a near sprint. My wings are taunt against their binding, already resenting their confinement.

Two weeks later...

Helovia

Winter sinks her fangs into my flesh...waking me with a start.

Shutters flutter open to behold a forsaken canopy of bare branches. Irises flick up, leering in a daze at the otherwise unmarred view of a diamond laden sky. White ash is falling all around -- littering my body with cold kisses that melt on contact. Usurping the dull ache that sits between my eyes I lift my head from the cold floor. The binding around my barrel rubs roughly as my cramped feathers strain in opposition. Audits twist ahead, sensing for something familiar. Nothing...not even the wind is in motion. To me it seemed like there is an uncharacteristic silence blanketing this land -- like the forest is caught in a spell. Aside from the sharp pinch between my ears, the physical flesh is unharmed. With care, I find my legs. They are wobbly but sure enough to hoist me without much issue. My subconscious ponders briefly on why each exhale is a stagnant smog...I couldn't remember our summers ever being this cold...or snowy.

The second logical notion to sluggishly creep across my brain is, "Where is the road?" A fresh wave of anxiety has me glancing right, then left -- narrowing at the base of trees and bushes. Dumbly expecting that cobbled path to become suddenly visible. As an afterthought I wonder, "What if I can't find it?" My crawling train of thought screams into action. What if I can't find the trail beneath all this snow?! "Bloody hell..." I shove those fears into a dark room. 'It has to be around here somewhere...' Damp forefeet scuffle the ground, pushing aside debris and three inches of fresh powder.

Glossary

Fháil do arse ar an talamh! - Get your ass on the ground!
Ar ith tú? - Did you eat?
Níl - No
Tá mé ag dul - I am going
Tá sé agat am - You've got time
Cuimhnigh - Remember
Mé forsake - I forsake
Mé féin chun an domhain - Myself to the world
Agus forsake mo birthright - and forsake my birthright
Go dtí go thagann deireadh leis an cosán - Until the path ends