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Fire bird. Falling. A shadow passes overhead, a hole in the sky shaped like a horse. Caneo’s long face lifts from the grass to watch it. He has seen the winged ones before but never up there in the air; something in his gut coils up at the sight. The wings fall though, tilting downward, toward the far side of the meadow. Is it dead? How do they get in the sky, anyway? The shadow passes over and he blinks up at the blue, now warm and damp with spring smell, and there are no more wings to throw shadows across his back. His stomach is full, and his mind is working again. Caneo has been alone for days; he should be doing things, but instead he is eating, straining to put life back on bones whittled to pins by winter’s teeth. He wonders about the falling bird, and his legs move almost before he wants them to. He finds the creature by the river quite alive, face plunged down into the current. Caneo’s ears come forward then; his pale eyes skate across a face and body the color of rich stone. It reminds him of a hot place, of the insides of caves striped with earth like veins of fire that has long forgotten how to burn. He might call her beautiful but he says nothing instead, watching for a long moment, taking in the sight. Distracted, he blinks at the sky every now and then, wondering what the world looks like from high above. Is it insignificant? Is he? He wants to know, but a part of him wants to flee in the face of this stranger. It is unlike him; it frightens him, in some base aspect of his mind, because he cannot understand its being. Caneo shoves all this aside and approaches a moment later. He walks on tiptoe, silver coat glowing like velvet, and now that springs kisses his hide he might be pretty, as well, if he were not so long and sharp, too tall and too thin still, with only wisps of hair to hide the lean curve of his neck and the long, twitchy tail just behind him. “Hello feathers,”, he calls brightly, and stops a few paces away. He has questions, but he waits for the stranger to speak first, and reveal some aspect of its character. If it is angry, then his legs are always ready to run, and the trees are not so far off. |
Table and Picture by Nicole (Niki)
[ @[Hearth] I hope you don't mind me :) I really need some more low pressure threads. ]
* violence & magic use always permitted *
Do not tag Caneo unless you are starting a new thread you would like me to see! Thank you!
