They said pinks washed in to the shore this morning. Some were salmon –colored, others were as fair as new blossoms in spring. Some stretched their arms wide, some stained the sand with their brushes before receding back to the sea… gone away until the next sun arose. That afternoon, yellows and oranges thrust themselves upon the beach. Burnt oranges and pale gold’s, all dancing and all singing as they spread merriment along the coast. Though, it wasn’t long until they too retired to the ocean to wait for another noon. Sometime later there came dark blues and deep blacks. These were the most unusual of all the colors to sweep across the sands, for they came with long veils and sheer cloaks. These muttered, these groaned, until the moon was high in the sky. Then and only then, would night fall over the sea, and the colors would be washed away once more. Rise, celebrate, repeat. A new day would pass, a new color would wash away. Rise, celebrate, repeat.

It baffled me that this Brisa had not seen the celebration every morning; she had never witnessed the magic of the Edge as I had seen it. When her eyes fell upon me in that distant way, I couldn’t help but feel her unease turning my heart away. There was clearly something haunting her, perhaps a ghost from the past… or just a lingering pain that made her hard. No light of understanding touched her eyes and when she was forced to look away at my recommendation, I was hesitant that she would ever come back. But she did. Her soft voice reached up from the depths of her evident sorrow and lanced the silence that had once more grown between us. I didn’t want to press her for answers and instead decided that by keeping things shallow, I would evade her troubles for the time being. After all, she didn’t appear all too willing to share. Why push for answers that one cannot give?

“I’ve been here for quite some time my friend. But what about you, when did you decide to call the Edge your home?” I was more curious now, wanting to share something with her that might be able to resurface later in life. I wasn’t looking for favors or opinions… just a friend. Somehow, I felt that Brisa needed a friend as well after all there was something lonely about her… a distant image of happiness that had been robbed of her some time ago.

Shifting awkwardly at her side, I tried my best to adjust to the ghostly pain of my body. It quaked and murmured softly in agony- agony that I tried my best to hide. But it always found its way to my eyes, making them squint and hide from the suffering in an attempt to erase the things I’d seen on the Steppe. I feared the things that now affected me, but I was strong enough to deal with them accordingly even if I found no solace from the pain. I didn’t want to seek out help though, because something in that weakness made me want to hide my ailments forever. I guess I was just hoping things would pass, sooner rather than later. However, my wings… they had begun to shrivel slightly. They were too sore and too fragile now, far beyond their deformity. Whatever was happening to me now would surely come to pass… and hopefully I would be made all the better for it.

Quietly, I turned my attention back to Brisa in hopes of finding distraction in her company, though I knew that when I tried to find her own curiosity it would be hidden somewhere beneath the waves before us…. “Is something troubling you dear?”