I guess we're all gonna be what we're gonna be
So what do you do with good ole boys like me
The pair of ravens sat on the lowest branch of a wide oak. It’d been awhile since they’d been back here. Back home. Ozark didn’t really have an issue with his nomadic lifestyle. It was lonely, sure, or it would be if he didn’t have Darla. His raven companion had been with him since before he could remember - occupying his own thoughts since the very beginning. His voice of reason, to be sure.
But he’d been restless, so Darla had convinced him to come back and give the whole socialization thing another go. He didn’t have to live a life as flighty as his Ma’s if itwasn’t what he wanted. And deep down, Ozark wanted more for himself than he was willing to admit.
Darla looked at him expectantly, and with a huff, he leapt from the branch - shifting back to his true form before he reached the ground.
It took him a minute to get accustomed to the size of his true body. He didn’t shed his wings when he shifted back to his true equine form. To be honest, he just felt wrong without them. He shifted them unconsciously at his sides - giant feathered security blankets he refused to let go of. Flight was as much a part of him as any of the other essential bits like blood or oxygen. He was a sloppy shifter, always retaining a smattering of feathers down his neck and back. Hair just felt downright unnatural. And dirty. But feathers? Feathers were clean and sleek. Highly preferable, if you had to ask.
He looked back to Darla, “Happy?” he rasped, using his true voice for the first time in ages. The raven let out a single caw before leaving the branch and instead perching on the space between his ears. Ozark simply huffed, ”Oh well ain’t that peachy. Thanks, Darla.” before turning his gaze back to the meadow and the sea of unfamiliar faces that awaited him.
O Z A R K
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