----------------tell me: who do i run to?
The storm has spent itself overnight, and as Pteron picks his way over fallen branches and downed greenery in the pre-dawn light the only sign of the storm is in the destruction that it had left behind. His usually clear path to water is obstructed by a dozen hurdles, and he must hold his wings tightly to his sides as he slides between hanging vines and thick mossy trunks. Minor nicks and scrapes along his legs and belly go ignored, and by the time he has finished drinking, they are fully healed and leave behind flawless blue-green, white, and creamy grey hide. As he makes his way back along the path, he pushes the worst of the debris to the side, the sharp branches that might draw blood on an unsuspecting passerby or a round log that might trip an unalert child. It feels good to be useful, and he continues in this manner until he reaches the beach.
The usually pristine shores are littered with the bounty of the sea.
The tide will take back the display in time, Pteron knows, drawing much of this back into the depths. The pegasus makes his careful way through the seaweed, wood, and shells. Now and then he pauses to look more closely at what’s come up. He flips a peach-colored conch with a dark hoof, and finding it occupied by an irritable crab, promptly flips it right back again.
The dawn light comes slowly to the western side of the island, and Pteron enjoys the leisurely start to the day. He continues down the beach, watching both the sea and the shore with his curious olive eyes, and remains aware of the distantly circling osprey, through which he suspects his far-away brother keeps watch.
@[anyone]
-- pteron --