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I visit the place I once called home and grieve.
Here my parents had fled my company but what felt like moments after I had stopped drinking my mother's warm milk from her teats, disappearing with a flurry of wings and long legs thudding on the earth. It was this soil I had grown on, under the starry eyes of the night sky tending to me like a mother and father. Not so long ago had I survived here in the open, afraid to venture down the path cloaked so thickly in sinister silver fog. If I had been desperate for company, for family and friends, maybe it would've been different. Maybe I would be different now, a social butterfly rather than a quiet, starry-eyed bird always looking for the stars even in the bluest of brightest sky days. Now this world looks so different from above; small and ever so slightly forlorn, as if an unwanted child. I ignore the knots twisting in my stomach, that persist despite the logic that says nothing will happen should I descend to the warm, moist brown soil I love so much more than the desert sand.
I tip down a wing and begin the spiral downwards, slow, easy, and relaxed. Today I feel no particular rush, just relaxation. Soon enough I plunge through the thick cover of sprawling silver clouds that engulf the land below, the wind brisk on me. Soon enough I am feeling it, a sharp little side-wind that nudges me insistently. But I am a decent flier, enough that I can handle myself for most-times, and so soon enough I am approaching the ground, flaring my wings and back-beating quickly, stopping the momentum that would bring me faceplanting on the grass I know so well. Thud. Thump. Thump. My wings are steady, stirring the long grass beneath me, their beats annoyingly loud. In the peaceful, serene quiet of this land, they seem obscenely rude, like a human chewing gum in a church- although I am quite unaware of humans, gum, and churches.
I sneeze as the grass tickles the undersides of my hooves before it is crushed beneath my weight as I settle on all fours, carefully folding my long dark wings to my side with a satisfied little sigh. As I glance around, i am struck oddly by how desperately small everything seems, so different from when I was an unkempt dreamy-eyed yearling.
Then I blink, momentarily stunned. For the shortest of moments I thought I saw me- young, scraggly, and somewhat sad-looking. For that split second I even think the filly smells like me- like sand and dust and the Throat... before I realize how silly I was being. It was Azulee, I recognized, daughter of the star gazer Cassiopeia, and so, I decided, a friend, as with any of the herd. But I cannot say I have ever spoken to her much, not that I recall. Then again, I have rarely spoken to anyone. I suppose it is not so surprising I know little of her. The one thing I exactly know, perhaps, is that Azzuen has recently died, and she is his daughter. I wish I could understand that pain, help her through it. But being abandoned, I quietly think, is quite different than death. At least I can keep the hope I may one day see my parents- even if I want to see them, a fact I'm unsure of- but this girl... never will she see her father's face.
I am briefly tempted to take off, flee from the counseling that must come. Controlling the impulse, I move forward to her flank, careful not to tread on her outstretched wings, and begin to graze quietly, enjoying the taste of sweet grass. I wonder if she recognizes me.
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