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05-05-2017, 01:01 AM
Stellaluna...
A bitterly cool change slithers downwards from the north and its sudden arrival startles milder air into frenzied, furious wind. The bat too, is surprised by the change, her sleek black coat is thin, light and summer suited; she is visibly unprepared for the battering of this vicious pre-winter squall. For awhile she rides these bold, new swirling updrafts with delight and gushing hormone, but they are persistent (never weaken), and her strength is hardly rival for such violent bursts. Soon enough, her miniature frame is forced from the glittering black skies to seek a more sheltered route under wildly tossing canopies; she follows her guide there quietly, safely, accepting every opportunity to refuel (both physically and mentally), with waves of grinning gratitude - the length of this wandering is greater than any migration before, it is unchartered territory and she is at the mercy of the winged-woman. The air is dry, devoid any moisture now, and her skin begins to flake and itch - even to the point of distraction. Helovia, the contrast between here and the ridge is boundless, but the wild fragrance of the newer drives her on; enticing as a riddle. Though she does not know it, a week has been and gone; now she straddles the precipice of no return. They arrive together into a different forest (there are no redwoods here, no Eucalypts or oak), and the pup's senses ignite fresh wonder. “Is this it?” … she whispers gently towards the ground, touching on tales the giantess had shared along the way about the edge of the world - where mist gathered beneath the trees year round and moon-white butterflies sparkled through the night. Starry-eyes search tall wooden figures for faces as she crosses through their council; she touches each politely and hums a faint hello before gliding to the next. The wind seems slower here, calm, and the little bat is pleased for respite. In the distance, winking playfully between the interlocked arms of the ‘woodskins’, a light beckons her interest. Shyly, and with intrigue splashed through her expression, she delves ahead through the darkness to investigate the phenomenon. When she descends upon the delicate, veiny-winged insect, she turns and sings forth with a feathery voice, “Miss Lyanna! Miss Lyanna, look, I’ve found something!" The butterfly jolts to life, fluttering about the face of the enamoured child momentarily, before vanishing into the murky, moving awning above. The bat sighs delightedly and her wide gaze wanders down once more. “Will we find a fox too?” … she queries, an unmistakable tone of excitement icing her words. "Turn on the dark, I'm afraid of the light!" |
@Lyanna first please :)
