11-18-2018, 11:25 AM
Ahead of me the soft sweep of the pampas rises toward the soft grey horizon until it becomes hills and then – hazy in the distance – the tall peaks of the Hyalinean mountain range. The rising sun has just begun to paint the slopes with gold, each distant tree casting almost impossibly long shadows. A gust of cool wind sends the flowers around me bobbing their colorful heads and lifts the sweat-stained navy forelock from my face.
I am aware of none of this, for my world has narrowed to include only the damp creature that is curled beside me. His small sides heave quickly, each exhale revealing a belly that is stretched wide with milk. As pale as a summer cloud, it is easy to imagine that this boy with his cerulean wings is a creature of the sky rather than flesh or blood. Only my exhaustion and the shape of his father’s nose on his miniature face convince me otherwise, and I heave a quiet sigh before resting my blue chin on the opposite side of his body, feeling his heartbeat where he leans against my side.
I’d called out when the stars had still lit the sky, beckoning @[Wolfbane] to the hollow where I intended to bear my son. I could hear the creek gurgling behind me, a comforting chatter as I labored to give birth for the second time. It is almost easier this time. Not in terms of pain – that still wracks my body – but in knowing what to expect. I am quicker now, more responsive, gentler as I brush gentle kisses on the face of my newborn son.
“Pteron,” I’d named him, a fitting tribute for this tiny winged creature. The name I’d have had if I were a boy. A name honoring his heritage and his future.
My eyes have fluttered closed for a moment but open quickly as the boy beside me rouses. He’s heard the same sound I had, I surmise, and turn my head toward the source of it. It’s Wolfbane, I find, who has probably been there for some time. I open my mouth to introduce him to his son, but just as I glance back at the boy to encourage him to stand…
He vanishes entirely.
I am aware of none of this, for my world has narrowed to include only the damp creature that is curled beside me. His small sides heave quickly, each exhale revealing a belly that is stretched wide with milk. As pale as a summer cloud, it is easy to imagine that this boy with his cerulean wings is a creature of the sky rather than flesh or blood. Only my exhaustion and the shape of his father’s nose on his miniature face convince me otherwise, and I heave a quiet sigh before resting my blue chin on the opposite side of his body, feeling his heartbeat where he leans against my side.
I’d called out when the stars had still lit the sky, beckoning @[Wolfbane] to the hollow where I intended to bear my son. I could hear the creek gurgling behind me, a comforting chatter as I labored to give birth for the second time. It is almost easier this time. Not in terms of pain – that still wracks my body – but in knowing what to expect. I am quicker now, more responsive, gentler as I brush gentle kisses on the face of my newborn son.
“Pteron,” I’d named him, a fitting tribute for this tiny winged creature. The name I’d have had if I were a boy. A name honoring his heritage and his future.
My eyes have fluttered closed for a moment but open quickly as the boy beside me rouses. He’s heard the same sound I had, I surmise, and turn my head toward the source of it. It’s Wolfbane, I find, who has probably been there for some time. I open my mouth to introduce him to his son, but just as I glance back at the boy to encourage him to stand…
He vanishes entirely.
