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04-29-2017, 08:04 AM
(This post was last modified: 05-05-2017, 02:37 PM by Stellaluna.)
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Stellaluna...
Wrapped snug beneath the membranes of blanketing, black wings, the bat waited like a lost child, silvery-blue eyes wide and watching; longing for a sign that help was on it’s way. The forest all around creaked restlessly, moaning eerily as the mild wind stirred to life a noisy chorus of leaves; she listened, strained to hear, but not even the mutter of cautious marsupial feet broke the otherwise, weight of quiet. The ridge she hailed from seemed to buzz day and night with the hustle and bustle of busy folk; as the sun held reign over a big blue sky, a bright array of birdlife forged and chatted, fought and courted, reptiles skittered, baked, and mammals ventured out to graze. When at last the cool shadow of evening fell and glittering stars began to amass above, the nocturnal world was roused from slumber - among them, the flock of forty other bats like she, who travelled a vast distance through the cover of darkness to feed. It was during this nightly ritual that the dreamer had become lost. Tiny obsidian hooves flinched beneath the warmth of her small body, a sound below touched pricked ears and her neat, narrow face flicked down towards it. Wombat? …she wondered, hoped, scouring the murky floor below for the distinct fawn, boulder body, of ‘Old Fatty’, as he waddled on by (he had a terrible temperament, and had she not have had a run in only days before, the bat might have too eagerly slipped from her perch to seek his aid). As it was she held tight, clinging to the oak’s queer, cold texture, with baited breath and a racing heart. To her dismay (and delight), it wasn’t ‘Old Fatty’ below. Gaping, night-savvy eyes grew wider still as a new face with two glistening eyes rose to find her; it wasn't all fear and bewilderment though as her focus scurried between long narrow ears, then down the surprising white length of the nose. The voice that followed quickly after (not hastily though, by any regard), was feminine and, thought she, far too soft for any creature of such enormous size. It greeted with unexpected kindness - not the way Da might’ve greeted the foreign flock to the north, at all. “Stella…” she answered softly, obligingly and far to trusting. The blanketing wingspan loosened a little across her fairy-frame, but she dared not move from the vantage point - not yet… Unblinking gaze travelled boldly, fascinated, down toward the black spine which jutted out behind the other; easily she placed feathers by each side, like a birds. “It’s true?” …she whispered gullibly, fancifully, almost convinced that her 'wonderland' had evolved into something more tangible - but the men! "Turn on the dark, I'm afraid of the light!" |
