Patrick is late...

Fortunately Patrick is little more than a child.  A serious, mostly humorless child perhaps but still just a child.  He does not yet even understand the concept of “late”.  True, he rather enjoys being first and does not at all enjoy being last but that is the extent of his understanding at this point in his life. Of course, if anyone were to say in his hearing something along the lines of, “Oh, you’re just a kid it doesn’t matter if you’re late”, he would probably make a very stubborn effort to never be late ever again… just as soon as he finds out what “late” is.

It is good that his only charges within this kingdom currently are those of learning and growing.  That being the case it is unlikely that his tardiness will be noticed or commented on by anyone other than his parents and perhaps his sister.  So he can continue in blissful ignorance of the idea of lateness for a time longer.

The boy comes climbing up a dusty hillock because he had heard the authoritative call that rang through the Throat but he is very obviously dragging his hooves.  His tracks in the sand are reluctant furrows dug deep with that dragging.  His eyes are busily looking everywhere but at the place he is supposed to be going. This added to his natural, childish lack of grace brings him tripping over the crest of the mound and very nearly tumbling down the other side.  Now that would have gotten attention… in a bad way.  At the last second he manages to catch himself and stands with legs splayed and breathing hard while looking down upon the gathering.

From the height of this not very tall mound the boy has just barely enough of a vantage point to be looking down on the meeting.  There are not as many clustered below as there should be had the call been meant for all in the Throat.  If it were not meant for all though there is no particular reason why Patrick should have heard it.  So, perhaps he is not the only one on the tardy list this day.  Among those gathered are a great many with feathered wings, four figures with no wings and one with very oddly placed wings but feathered wings all the same.

At the core of the group is a very loud adult figure displaying both horns and, of course, feathered wings… feathered wings that glint with shiny gold in the sunlight.  There is no mistaking that this imposing creature has control of the current situation.  Pretty much everything else about the gathering is lost on the young colt though.  His sea-foam blue eyes watch that flickering shine in fascination as the voices from below drift up to him.

My first glance over the group showed no one that I have seen in anything more than distant passing.  Wait… no, there is a hint of shifting color over somewhere… ah yes, quiet and to the back.  So, why isn’t Sisss here with Mop? -Because why “Pop” and not “Mop”, it only makes sense doesn’t it?-  Another quick scan and nope… still no sis… well, humph.  If I’d known this was allowed, I wouldn’t have come either.  I’d have stayed off by the island’s coast poking around under rocks and searching for caves.  Ah well, since I am here I will listen. Listening is something I like to do after all.  I will keep my distance from all those feathers and their stinkyness though. Unless I have a very good reason not to.

As I listen I hear a jumble of words that make little sense to me and then exactly three that stick out.  I have learned in past sessions of listening that the things which allow those of us with no feathers safe passage on and off this island are called “keys”.  I have learned also that “make” is the word for causing these keys and other interesting things to be.  Then there is “gathering”, this is a word I learned very early on and a thing I’ve decided I rather like to do… almost as much as listening.  These three words catch my attention.  “Gathering” comes from a wingless pair situated near the front while both “key” and “make” are spoken by a golden winged one settled just next to that first pair.  This will require my intervention I think…

Suddenly the almost dreamy study of the leader’s wings is broken off as the colt snaps to attention ears perked up and swiveled forward.  After only a momentary pause he begins picking his way down to the group.  He comes to flat ground just behind Xolani and reaches up in an attempt to brush his muzzle against his mother’s shoulder as he continues on by.  He slips carefully around, and in some cases under, the others until he reaches what is almost the very front of the group.  Here he eyes the space between a large horned male [Mercutio] and much smaller dappled-brown female [Najya].  Apparently he felt it was just the right amount of space for him because he slides up into it.  Once settled he can’t really see much above their shoulders without really tipping his head back pretty far.

So it is that his eyes dart back and forth from one set of front legs to the other so that only those facing the three would be able to tell which adult he is looking at.  He does sort of tip his head towards the stallion prior to speaking though. When he does speak his voice is probably louder than it needs to be.  Not being one to talk much he has yet to grasp the concept of appropriate volume.

“Big-Horn and Gold-Crown gathering?  Pat gather too!”

This declaration is accompanied by a sharp nod and an important puffing up of his chest.  Clearly he intends to do what he has just said he will regardless of the adults’ reactions.