N o t e

Water lapped around Note's silver hooves, as if trying to pull him into the water, sucking him into a world of gills and flippers. But that wasn't a world appropriate for a pegasus. Pegasi were creatures of the sky, were they not? They lived their lives in the clouds, their wings a gift no one else had, but racism and jealousness arose from their prize. Why wouldn't you envy a creature that was able to fly?

At this thought, the dusty bay stallion ruffled his feathers, spreading them out to take a better look at them. They were long, slender, and made for flight, for speed. He felt ashamed of himself as he tucked them back into his sides so they once again covered his scar. All he ever used them for was a shield, to cover his scar from the world. He was still tentative about his scar, worried of anyone spotting it. Then he'd have to go through his whole life story with them. He had, in fact, entrusted his secret with his beloved Sohalia, but she was different.

The thought of Sohalia and how much she liked to fly still loomed around Note's mind. He glanced up at the sky, the wind blowing through his mane, tossing the dark gray strand back and forth between themselves. The Endless Blue was a wonderful place for flight...

Note turned, his mind set on one thing, and one thing only: flight. He was going to fly, if only for a short time. He was, after all, built for it. The stallion planted his hooves firmly on the beach, perpendicular to the lapping shoreline of the ocean.

A light breeze pushed into Note's behind, almost encouraging him to take off. He rose his gait into a walk, then a trot, and finally a canter. His silver hooves sparkled in the sun as they hit the sand, throwing up the beads around him. He spread his wings, his gruesome scar showing. It stretched from his shoulder to his hip, directly crossing over the muscles connecting to his wings. Even spreading his wings out caused a tug and pull of his scar that pained Note, although he didn't show his pain.

Wind rustled through his feathers as the pegasus caught a breeze that lifted him into the air. He beat his wings against the current, making an ascent into the atmosphere. Note had a variety of different takeoffs he could've used, but this one was easiest, and less painful on his aching scar. As he flew more, his scar was sure to pain him less, but for now, it strained his muscles to an extent he couldn't bear.

When Note's scar had just finished healing, back when he was around two and a half years old, he had tried flight. But the pain of even lifting his wing was excruciating. So from then on his wings were nothing but a cover for his scar.

Note gracefully soared through the sky. He had gotten better at flying, he had done it often in his younger days. Flying in the day didn't seem to be a problem, after all, he was used to flying at night. He had been an assassin for most of his life, killing at night for more cover. It wasn't life he had chosen, but a certain need to fight governed the pounding in his blood. Maybe it was a trait gained from his father? After all, they had never met...