Gull

“GULL!” The wind carries Bellona’s scream ahead to you, but you’re not falling for that trick again. Instead, you pump your wings harder, soaring above the cherry trees. You’ll beat her this time, with or without her little games, you think resolutely, not bothering to answer. It is only when you finally spy the distant pillars in the east that you look back for a second—just to watch her expression as she sees you winning—that you notice something’s amiss: the sky behind you is empty.

While you continue to fly, you’re confused. Rapidly, light eyes scan the airspace around you, looking for anything remotely jewel-colored streaking towards the finish. Did she take a shortcut that you don’t know about? But you see no one emerging victoriously from some hidden path, nor hear anyone’s bossy voice trumpeting her triumph, until—“GULL! GET OVER HERE OR SO HELP YOU…” Ah. There it is. Against your better judgment, you swing wide in a banking turn, reversing your course to find wherever she is and whatever she’s squalling about. What is it now? Another one of her tricks?

You’re grumbling to yourself as you flap your way back over the groves of cherry trees, feeling very suspicious at the turn this competition has taken. Mares. Why can’t a race just be a race? “If this is what you’ve got to do to win,” you call, still searching for your well-hidden rainbow, “I think we both know what that says about y—” Your sentence is cut short by stunned silence at one of the most bizarre scenarios you’ve ever encountered: below you, Bellona is stuck in a tree.

Not surprisingly, the silence doesn’t last long. You’re laughing uproariously by the time you pass over her, and you’re so weak with hysteria as you land in a nearby clearing that you nearly fall out of the sky on her account…again. Enjoying yourself thoroughly, you saunter over to her. “So,” you remark impishly, looking up at her, “I guess this means I win?” You hiccup out another obnoxious cackle. “Didn’t know you were going to take the scenic route, Bell—though I’ve got to say, it’s a pretty scenic view from down here as well.” It’s true, really, even outside the rather lecherous implications of your comment. Framed by the dark fingers of the cherry branches and lent a halo by the hazy golden sunlight, your companion does look beautiful. She’s even got a few stray blossoms in her hair, you notice, squinting up at her. A low whinny rumbles appreciatively in your throat. Maybe you should just leave her up there for another minute.

@[Bellona]

trouble just grew wings