02-11-2019, 10:15 PM
Exploring the rugged kingdom by foot would have taken months. The land is steep and rocky, and the footpaths weave back and forth along the ridges of the hill. Pteron, with his wings, is not bound to them. He explores the land from above, covering more ground in the span in a half hour than he might have done in a day on foot. The cool wind in his face counteracts the warmth of the summer sun that floats directly overhead, and blows back the growing length of his white mane. The red earth of Loess becomes a blur as he picks up speed, soaring up up up just to plummet back to earth.
He lands in a puff of dust, wings flared at the last moment to catch his weight. Precision is his strong suit – endurance is not. He has been flying for nearly an hour, after all, and while it is the fastest mode of travel, it is not always the best for finding new places. Pteron is always on the search for new places.
Pteron has landed near the base of a cliff, and around him rise tall walls of red stone. He’d seen something green in the cliffs when he’d flown over them, but there hadn’t been a place to land. He can’t see what it might have been from here though, and he clambers up a rock that was knee-high for a better vantage point. No, nothing from her either. Maybe that next ledge... or the next?
WhenIt is only when he sees the greenery (there, a copse at the bottom of that canyon) does the yearling take stock of where he is. Balanced precariously on a thin ledge of stone, he has one wing stretched up flat against the rock above to narrow himself, and the other hanging down into the air to even out his weight. Hmm. Perhaps not the best situation. Pteron can see water sparkling on the canyon floor but he’s not sure how to get there from where he stands. His wings are too wide to fly, but the slope of the rock suggests that the stone might widen closer to the water.
While weighing his options, Pteron catches a flicker of motion. There, about twenty feet below (quite near where he’d first landed) is a stranger. Perhaps they haven’t seen him, Pteron reasons, and immediately vanishes from sight.
@[Everli]
He lands in a puff of dust, wings flared at the last moment to catch his weight. Precision is his strong suit – endurance is not. He has been flying for nearly an hour, after all, and while it is the fastest mode of travel, it is not always the best for finding new places. Pteron is always on the search for new places.
Pteron has landed near the base of a cliff, and around him rise tall walls of red stone. He’d seen something green in the cliffs when he’d flown over them, but there hadn’t been a place to land. He can’t see what it might have been from here though, and he clambers up a rock that was knee-high for a better vantage point. No, nothing from her either. Maybe that next ledge... or the next?
WhenIt is only when he sees the greenery (there, a copse at the bottom of that canyon) does the yearling take stock of where he is. Balanced precariously on a thin ledge of stone, he has one wing stretched up flat against the rock above to narrow himself, and the other hanging down into the air to even out his weight. Hmm. Perhaps not the best situation. Pteron can see water sparkling on the canyon floor but he’s not sure how to get there from where he stands. His wings are too wide to fly, but the slope of the rock suggests that the stone might widen closer to the water.
While weighing his options, Pteron catches a flicker of motion. There, about twenty feet below (quite near where he’d first landed) is a stranger. Perhaps they haven’t seen him, Pteron reasons, and immediately vanishes from sight.
@[Everli]