The world circled us in an autumnal spiral of deep, rusty clouds, streaked with the weak, golden fingers of a dying sun. I poured the colors into Sumä, who with a courteous yawn, ruffled her feathers inside the leather pouch slung around my neck and wing. Her downy body, still only the size of a nostril, lay down underneath the forming stars, watching with my eyes the world around fade black. I felt the wind brush past, cooling the amber air, sliding along the lithe structure of my tall frame while catching slightly in the brown-touched ends of my wings. It was simply simplistic, and with that, my little eagle dreamt.
My patrolling hooves stretched much farther than the northern border. Seeking some extra breeze, perhaps? I found myself quietly absorbed in the southern territories, hooves scratching grass rather than sand. I plucked a few away from my reach quietly as not to disturb my little sleepy thing. She would care for a worm in the moments of which she might wake. Feeding her in the Throat was almost impossible. She cared not for the crunchy scarabs and their armored exoskeleton, but preferred the soggy insides of smaller sandpipers and squirrels which hid in the oasis foliage. I wasn’t going to be seen chasing squirrels. I made it a much easier task to dig up juicy grubs and other disgusting slimy creatures from the darkened outer soils. One could say for the both of us it was a win win solution.
I wouldn’t fiddle with worm-digging until the little bird woke again.
We moved slowly, merely strolling out in the quiet. It felt good to walk on my hollow bones and use the hooves for something other than pushing myself into the sky. My right front cannon was stone bruised and the real reason to walk was to stretch out the muscles that Murdock kindly took to hitting. They each ached a dull moan in the back of my mind as I lifted every hoof. I was heading to the place of the dangerous, airborne rain fight. It was a rare day, and on that day I did rare things.
Today, hopefully, won’t result to an explosion.
I saw the red flames arc over the grasses blurred in an orange mirage near the horizon. The sun fell slowly, whining with tragic colors and shadows that reached from my side to draw attention. The warmth of the Heart was worth a brief trip to escape the cool nights. The absence of daytime clouds told me that this night would be colder than most. The heat of my body probably wouldn’t serve as satisfactory warmth for a bird that had nearly nothing to her but a rumple of pale down.
Something yelped like a fearful pup, crows leaping from the scarlet grass in just as much surprise. I stood on edge, my body growing like the hackles of a protective cougar; head beautifully defined lay parallel to the sky while my intense hazel gaze scanned the horizon line. A flicker of ice in the orange sea of fire instantly caught me. Body pressing through the tall blades with haste, I desperately tried to catch another glimpse without moving to disturb my sleeping bonded. What felt like I pouncing – I pushed into a clearing to meet the dazzling creature. He was blessed with superior height, crowned with the throne of winter. I saw a chilled radiation curl into the air from the deadly, ice-like horn. The chill seemed to linger even from his hooves. The stallion’s eyes, strikingly cobalt, shimmered their hue even in such an orange sunset. Admittedly, I struggled desperately to keep my outer confusion from slipping. But something about all of this first-glance grace was all wrong when I noticed the flash of coal waning from a hot wound. His thigh was swollen, gashed with a terribly long strip of exposed tissue. Tissue that was fizzing from a blast of flame? I caught my eyes drift out to locate the heart, but it was much too far.
Was it something in the grass?
I drew aback, hazel gaze sweeping the floor, searching for danger that didn’t fear the thought of harming Sumä. In the passing seconds, my hackles descended, and I could only stare with bewilderment.
“How does one burn himself when the Heart is so distant?” Now relaxed, a chuckle escapes my honeyed lips.
Sumati the Sinbird
there's no thunder to warn you that I'll bring you to your knees |
.svg/2000px-Google_Chrome_icon_(2011).svg.png){kind=icon}
⇒
[P] I died a long time ago, in that worn out war
