I politely tail Vu’s gesture, her introduction sends a cue for the wild carline to become something more than a simple ornament in the tangled, hollow backdrop. Thus far, the third member of our party has sat pretty on the back burner; though it isn’t in my hard-nose agenda to neglect her. She is seemingly gifted with a candid impartial, and smallish stature – a flower that pales in the glare of loud distraction. My passive scrutiny skips across her tawny features; I note the tuffs of creamy hide poking through that fuzzy winter shawl she bore. I wonder for an instant what the mysterious foreigner would say if her quiet heed wasn’t forced due to cultural differences. One caramel ear tugs back. The concept of foreigners has always been something told from the viewpoint of a historian. Generations ago, our ancestors came from alien lands – they built their homes on the hills and mountains of rich country side…

Persuasion pulls me from mulling and summons a bemused snort to puff free in response to Vu’s correction. I gander her way, working internally to curb my tongue until she finishes speaking. Aching pinions descend partially, “Aye,” my lips part, releasing the word in an undertow of disquiet. Home…the reality amid a dream. Simultaneously, my subconscious isn’t paying attention to the uncertainty that churns within me like a mushrooming storm – instead he is watching Vu, the inch worm. I yank him into focus by taking a purposeful sidestep away from them. The tips of my feathers rustle in the light breeze and shadow the faded turf. A dull smile skitters partway up my right cheek, “Be right back, lassies,” and without another word, these wispy forelegs pull me into a fullout sprint. A familiar pocket of air gathers beneath my outstretched wings. The first down-stroke sends a burst of sharp pain shooting through those tingling wing joints. My face distorts into a grimace and layers of crinkles form on my snout. “Argh!”

Given the flat terrain and scratchy flora, it takes double the taunt blows before at last...the ground disappears. With all muscles fuming from those impromptu demands, I climb awkwardly into the sky. The stiff upstrokes make me want to blanch, but once these wings are clear of earthly hindrance, that sweet sensation of a gale whisking by is...like an overdue embrace from a friend or lover. I circle tightly, drawing myself higher. Only when the rising air currents give me permission to glide do I look out across the narrowing landscape. At first, I naturally focus on finding that cobbled road -- previous knowledge left an impression that it was large enough to leave a noticeable mark. But as my eyes trace one horizon after another…dread begins to race my blood and pool in the back of my throat.

Directly north, another sparse canopy sits – and beyond them, mountains rise above the foothills. I study their tallest lines intently, but only feel disappointment throwing more weight on me. There is nothing I recognize. The west declines into yet another grove; this one is much thicker than the one before. When at last I lean south, my wings are working hard once more to keep me adrift. The trees grow thin and the land is pale on the horizon. My brow constricts and the tightness in my chest grows – this wasn’t Éireann.

I lean forward, thrashing hard and breathing even harder. The ground rises to meet me, and though I’ve been an aviator for a full year, my landing is rough and graceless. Forelimbs shrink into the ground, nearly buckling as I stumble into a canter and stop. Sunlight spills across the shallow meadow, accenting a calico trail of sweat that flecks my underarms and groin. My walk back to them is a slow one. “Your right,” vocals grate when we are near enough to speak, I drag another breath and add, “This isn’t Éireann...” at last…a semblance of forced acknowledgement would caress her ears. There is nothing to gain from her accuracy aside from the powerful wave of nausea which sits thickly on my belly. Temples furrow in pent frustration and vulnerable bewilderment, both of which continue to have me scrambling for a solution. How…?

“I don’t understand…” A riddled admission springs from the pit of me, offering a glimpse into the vortex of doubt and bafflement. They couldn’t understand either. “C-ca…” amethyst stones sink, they drill new figurative holes into the ground, “I can’t remember…” It had been an assumption that I’d merely trekked slightly off course. Since that shadowed part of my mind couldn’t produce feedback to verify or deny the assumption, it was only natural to cling to reasonable theories rather than unbelievable facts. “This is all arseways,” ice drips from me, but the chill is directed toward myself, “I don’t understand how I came to be here.” That faint ember of hope fades into the darkness. I’d been foolish enough to scheme...and lost.

SEAN