"But the dream, the echo, slips from him as quickly as he had found it and as consciousness comes to him (a slap and not the gentle waves of oceanic tides), it dissolves entirely. His muscles relax as the cold claims him again, as the numbness sets in, and when his grey eyes open, there’s nothing but the faint after burn of a dream often trod and never remembered." --Brigade, written by Laura
08-26-2019, 10:22 PM (This post was last modified: 08-28-2019, 11:01 AM by Smother.)
The grass lifts along the side of his soft, pole length body. In the summer, he would be completely concealed. However now, in the midst of fall with a slew of orange and red scattered across the field, he is a flashing neon yellow. A sore thumb. And he knows this, but cares not. While he hasn’t necessarily been present around the land of Beqanna, he has always been watching. His analyzation of social cues, his diligence in interpreting social interactions – he is positive this time, Smother is ready.
She stands masked in the shadows of oak and pine trees, concealed in the black comfort that has kept her safe for so many years. How old is she now? A mystery, certainly. The painted female had fallen slave to her insecurities for far too long, and now it was her time to emerge from the broken pieces that had once claimed her future.
A deep breath exhales from her nostrils, leaving a steamy mist to arise into the morning air. It’s getting frosty now, Turkish will begin to feel cold. During the winter season he tends to hang from her a little tighter, yearning for the heat and every year finding it a little less bearable. She appreciates his company – not only because they are tied together by an invisible force – but, sometimes, space would be nice.
“Smo,” his soft his whispers into the air the nickname they had grown accustomed to since they had been paired together so many years ago. Now, looking at him, she sees how large he has come in comparison to the child he once was. She only imagines how she must have aged.
Older, not old, but definitely more mature.
“Turkish,” she nods to acknowledge his existence, though the butterflies in her stomach and self doubt in her mind distracts her from truly appreciating his return. She knows with his arrival means it’s time, and this is something she has looked forward to putting off for quite sometime.
Are you ready? his words whisper into her mind like a soft song, his maturity and elegance even present in his speech. She can feel his seniority over her, his guidance like some form of leader.
No, she responds telepathically, partly because she is too scared to use vocalizations but also because she doesn’t want to hear his annoyance at her lack of excitement.
Ugh, the scoff fills the silence anyways.
So she does it as soon as her slinky-like familiar had curled and looped himself around her neck like an infinity scarf, completely appeased by the body heat radiating from her skin.
And she takes two steps forward, allowing the sun to hit her chocolate hazelnut and white cream coat for the first time in too many years.
They could both feel it in their bones... the land around them may still be a myriad of oranges, reds, and browns, but the chill in the wind made it clear. Winter was on it's way... just days away now... and the raptor soaring through the sky was impatient for the first snow to start falling.
Many animals that lived down on the ground were accustomed to disappearing into their dens for a long sleep, or watching the skies carefully for any predators that might be in search of their next meal. But when a predator, either a land dweller or a raptor, could blend in with the winter snow as easily as the Gyrfalcon could, it made one season more desirable than the others.
Turul had adapted to Beqanna's environment well enough that he did not have trouble supplying himself with food during the warm months. But winter was where he felt most at home simply due to the environment around him; his feathers were speckled with black, but moving through the trees, he appeared to be nothing more than a blur. The small land mammals he feasted on, and sometimes even the smaller raptors, never saw him coming.
In turn, there was not much that he missed either. The falcon's keen eyes easily spotted a number of creatures and happenings even from far up in the sky, like the very interesting one he was about to see today. Turul had gone out to the field with his friend to have the chance to stretch his wings out. He knew that the golden stallion would soon be making diplomatic trips before the winter snows settled and made travel much more difficult, so he was relieved that Aten was still searching for recruits now and not later when he would have a lot to deal with.
The Gyrfalcon was soaring over the Field when he spotted something emerging from the trees. Based on size alone, he figured it was a horse, but there was something odd about it's neck. Turul couldn't place exactly what was there, not until he flew closer for a better look.
Gliding downward, he circled above the horse before flying down to the left to glance at it's neck. To the falcon's surprise, a large reptile, a snake from the looks of it, was wrapped around the horse like a vine. The raptor knew he would be no match for a creature of that size, even if he was a pretty courageous predator. He almost considered it, circling above them again and flying low enough that, if the snake had been three times it's length, it could've reached up and snatched him.
Having a somewhat understanding of the situation, Turul banked and flew back towards the middle of the Field, where he had left his friend to graze. From it's angle, the horse coming out of the trees would have no problem spotting Aten, though it might have been a bit more difficult now since his golden coat blended in with the dying meadow grass.
Turul let out a cry to alert the stallion, Aten lifting his head and munching on the mouthful of grass he had to finish the bite so he could talk. Turul saved him the effort and swooped down, opening his wings in a split second to catch himself and reach out with his talons to land on Aten's withers and back where he normally perched.
The raptor quickly explained the situation, Aten's eyes shifting from curious as to why Turul had a crazed look in his eye to mild surprise at hearing of a snake wrapped around the horse's neck.
"Did it look like she was in trouble? Or that the snake was trying to kill her?" Aten questioned.
"I saw it wrapped around her neck! How does that not mean she's in trouble?!" Turul quipped.
Aten's eyes lowered into a deadpan facade, "Big difference between just being wrapped around her neck and actively trying to kill her," he pointed out.
Turul spread a wing and opened his beak if he wanted to counter with something, but the words died on his tongue. Aten's eyes softened, cocking one eyebrow and lowering his head some, "If she were really in trouble, I'm sure you would've heard her screaming."
Seeing no immediate danger to the situation, Aten returned to his grazing, leaving a perplexed Turul still perched. The Gyrfalcon looked back in the direction of the trees across the field where he'd seen the horse and snake, still watching them suspiciously as the mare exited her hiding spot.
