Gale
this is going to break me clean in two --
this is going to bring me close to you
In the days that followed Mazikeen’s departure from Islandres, she was often on Gale’s mind. Her words ring in his ears: telling him she’s not afraid, promising to stop him if he were ever to need it. He should know better than to rely on someone else, yet remembering her confidence gives Gale confidence of his own. And he needs plenty of it, grappling with shifting as he is. He’d spent most of the first few days completely horse-shaped and with a large headache. As the days turned to weeks, and then months, Gale has grown better as well. He’s still limited – able only to take one other complete shape – but there is no doubting his Shapeshifting ability now.
As soon as he’d been sure, he’d come to Hyaline.
He flies through the darkness without fear, his blue eyes sharper than any true osprey’s. The ground beneath him begins to climb higher, and eventually Gale flies over the bare rock that he knows rings the mountainous kingdom belonging to the Pack. Rather than swoop down toward the lake that lies far below, Gale keeps to the highlands. He settles onto the winter-bare branch of a high-altitude aspen, and folds his white wings arounds his navy brindle feathered body. He’s kept his equine coloring despite his best efforts otherwise, and is grateful that at least it serves as a visible indicator that he is not just a bird sitting at the border in the dark.
“Anybody home?” he calls out, falling quiet to listen for a response. All that comes is the wind, and Gale quickly grows tired of holding his avian shape, and returns four hooves to the ground in a flawless and well-practiced landing. The sun has not returned, as they’d hoped it would at their parting, but there is still time. It’s not summer yet, the stallion thinks as he looks up at the dim ring of the distant sun.
He debates calling out again, and settles instead for ambling very slowly in a general downhill sort of direction. He should probably stop, he knows, but some part of him is curious how far he might go before something – or someone – stops him.
@[Mazikeen]
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