It was peaceful beneath the willow where he lay folded atop gangly legs. It was as nice and quiet and warm as she had promised it would be - the perfect place to nap after traveling. But that had been two sun rises and falls ago, and the break of this morning would be the start of the third where she had not returned. For now, it doesn’t bother the little black colt much, but one day, perhaps the questions would bare either the bitterness of resentment or bleakness of sorrow.
But not on a beautiful day like today. There was much more important things to do - like bother his sister.
When the wind swept by that morning one of mother willow’s fronds brushed his nose. The first time it goes unnoticed, and it’s not until the fourth pass of the branch that he is roused from slumber, blinking against the light of summer that was soon to be. Nerve’s nose wrinkled against the trespass, trying to deflect the tickle of a sneeze that threatened to disrupt their peace. He failed in his attempt, and instead of paying mind to where his sister was nearby, the scrawny colt let loose a mighty sneeze in her probably direction.
”Quietude?” he tested cautiously, trying to suppress the hiccup of a giggle that broke the syllables of her name. Blinking away the watery eyes from the sneeze, he tried to make out the dark, blobbish shape of his sister, “Are you mad?”
@[Quietude]
Wait here, Mother had said, as she had said so many times before, and in that history was the unspoken expectation that she would return, as she had done - every time before. But she hadn't, this time, and as the blue light of early dawn gives way to the golden rays of sunrise, the little black pegasus huffs and ruffles her wings so swiftly that the soft, flightless, feathers almost buzz as they rub together and resettle. Three days. Nerve's soft breath rustles peacefully behind her like leaves, Quietude stands near the shadow of her sleeping brother as he snores, snuggled tight against the roots of the tree Mother tucked them beside. She turns, now, to look at him, and she hates how he sleeps as though their mother hasn't gone.
Above him in the stillness of early morning, the willow fronds hang limp without a wind to blow them. Her lips part as though to speak but no sound passes, no audible sound, but the fronds quake and sway, brushing his nose until he wakes, until with groggy eyes the look at her but do not see, he sneezes a sneeze too loud for such a small creature. It echoes, bouncing off rock and tree, and upsetting a flock of blue jays roosting nearby.
She likes the noisy jays, and looks up at them, grinning.
"I am not mad," she says, stamping one small grey forehoof and screwing up her face into an evocative frown, "I'm hungry." With a frustrated sigh, she walks to where he is still lying against the tree, dropping unceremoniously to the ground so her own long limbs entwine with his. She drapes her neck across his back. "And I'm tired. The crickets were too loud again last night." She hates the crickets as much as she loves the blue jays, their singing stinging her ears as she tries to sleep, and so she hushes them, yet every time she would begin to drift away, she lost control of their voices and they would sing again, chirping brightly all night as though others were not trying to sleep.
Quietude .the sound of silence.
@[Nerve]
He twitches his nose again for good measure, sniffling until the last threat of the looming sneezes finally ebbs away. And when the last of the tears dry with a final, exaggerated blink, he catches his sister’s stare, and follows it upward and above. His head twists awkwardly in time to make out the colorful tailfeathers disappearing higher into the canopy, before dropping back down to catch the strange, dreamy grin on Quiet’s face.
“Are you mad about being hungry?” the shifter asked while she cozied up to him. They were a tangled mess of black limbs and feathers beneath the tree, and for a moment it was peaceful until the grumble of his own belly tried to sing with crickets when Quiet drifted off. She had made a good point - being hungry was no fun.
He knew better. He absolutely knew that he should let her sleep - he knew she needed it. But I felt like HOURS had gone by and his stomach was just to noticeably empty now and well...he would blame her for making him aware of just how much he needed some food. “Quiet,” he said between clenched teeth, tugging at her mane and repeating her name on a loop until she awoke. “Why did you look at those birds like that earlier? Did you want eat one?” Not waiting for an answer, he phased into the figure of a fuzzy mountain lion cub while untangling himself from legs. “I’ll catch one for you!”
With a toothy grin, he hopped onto the trunk of the guardian willow. He had no clue if those birds were actually still up there, but he would absolutely find out because he was too far invested now. Despite his determination, the climb took more effort than anticipated for a scrawny foal, and he made he no further than just an hair past halfway before his hold slipped. By some grace he managed to find purchase again in the span of a second, but when he went to move, he was troubled to learn that he couldn’t wriggle his claws free of the bark. Struggling, he lets out a pathetic kittenish yowl of panic until exhaustion wears him down.
Tipping his head backwards with large, dilated eyes, he finds some humor at the sight of Quiet upside down. Her face is so dark he can’t be certain based on sight, but he’s pretty confident that she’s making some kind of face at him. He knew he probably deserved it, but he’d never ever admit it. “What should I do now?”
@[Quietude]
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