12-18-2019, 03:35 PM
The call of an owl wakes him, his eyes blinking open to see that the sun has begun to set while he slept. Clegane turns his head to look westward towards the distant forest and horizon. Grey as the winter-wood but twinged with reflected pink light, his eyes lift towards the brilliant sky.
The gathering of grey feathers above his shoulders rustle as the muscles of his back flex and shift. Flight was a skill he had yet to master or even attempt, but on a night like this, the sky seemed all too tempting. He stretches out a wing tentatively, wondering how it would feel to be suspended by such flimsy things, wondering how he would even get off the ground.
He draws the autumn air over his tongue, searching for courage wherever there was a chance he could find it. But mixed with the scents of sugar maples and distant woodsmoke, there is something else. The thought of a night flights is chased away by the realization that someone else is near, and the young stallion shifts his weight to turn in the direction of the stranger.
The gathering of grey feathers above his shoulders rustle as the muscles of his back flex and shift. Flight was a skill he had yet to master or even attempt, but on a night like this, the sky seemed all too tempting. He stretches out a wing tentatively, wondering how it would feel to be suspended by such flimsy things, wondering how he would even get off the ground.
He draws the autumn air over his tongue, searching for courage wherever there was a chance he could find it. But mixed with the scents of sugar maples and distant woodsmoke, there is something else. The thought of a night flights is chased away by the realization that someone else is near, and the young stallion shifts his weight to turn in the direction of the stranger.
