.svg/2000px-Google_Chrome_icon_(2011).svg.png){kind=icon}
Cera was the first to run forward, eager as always. I sighed, but it wasn’t a moan or groan of displeasure. Quite the opposite in fact, my stream of affection seemed to have no end for the younglings. They were the most fascinating of creatures, always on edge to surprise or try something new. Delightful. Neither colt would disappoint. One would think this moment would strike heart with nothing but pride and happiness; I was beholding a young soul touch sky for the first time, taking the next step into adulthood. Sadly, that wasn’t what happened. When pale colt charged downhill and caught air, this heart lurked within breast; fear blooming like a black flower. Another babe had once taken this same attempt, same step…I swallowed the rising bundle of shallow thoughts and forcefully, firmly reminded that this—they weren’t the same. Cera was different. Less brash and rebellious. Norse. I still miss you. My wings hung with tense pose, I resisted the urge to spring at him like an overly protective mare. Coddling and wooing over aches or pains to come. My attentions wouldn’t be needed; Cera landed with a safe thud and almost immediately rose with a laugh and giggle, “You did great!” Hototo called out encouragement, I smile; surely my emotions were misled. Demi god rose, taking flight for only a moment before landing in similar fashion. My laugher rumbles free, jolly in their joking and taking glee in minor success, “You both did wonderful,” already our path led back up the slope, “let’s try something else.” After reaching the top I, gave more instruction, “The torrents warm and cool in different ways, your eyes will not be able to foresee this…instead your wings must feel it. Trust your inner voice to give instruction on when to shift, when to beat. Feel each feather, there will be times when air is stale; you must counter this with a strong downbeat. Try to curl your wings until your longest feathers nearly mate.” This time I rose from earth at a standstill. Feathers fanned and nearly brushed ground, the tips of my rear daggers floated free. My wind would create a base from them to trail from, “Rise.” Forcefully hovering I smile between heavy breath. |
![[Image: 5388c9b80fe59]](http://images.helovia.net/index.php/view/5388c9b80fe59)
