D A M A S C U S
The adolescent was met with a stern gaze from those he had fallen at the feet of. A nose quivering with the urgency of new smells, tail cascading off the mountain side in one heaving banner, and wings remaining flayed over the mountainside, Damascus remained a great heap of flesh and feather as he continued his attempt to pluck himself from the groove he had imbedded in the earth upon his crash. The man spoke first, a tail similar to his only not half the size and a rosey hide that immediately Damascus came to oogle with envy. This male's words, though, were closer to scolding than concerned, so wit his jacks slacking the child rose from the ground in one great have. Finally upon all fours, Damascus looked to the lady of gosling's fur and pale snips of white who offered her own sharp words of advice, though truthfully he knew that they meant little harm. He had shocked them as much as he had shocked themselves, and a few degrees off and he could have injured either one of them. "Sorry" He would repeat, holding his sore wings aloft as an umbrella for the witnesses "Not skill with flying me - storm grabs mine wing, let go not!" he explained to them, trudging forward with his wingspan open and inviting for the two to take advantage of the shelter they could provide in the meantime. "Stand I can" He confirmed, though that was easy enough to see by just looking at him. Standing, walking, talking, and Dohv was soon to join him once again by climbing up the ladder-like strands in his tail. "Shelter find we hill down?". He spoke this with a glance to the eye of the storm and the gathering clouds, knowing it would not do them well to ascend any further. If they wished to carry on, though, he would follow them. Damascus knew not where to look for things like shelter, all he knew was that he was greatly afeared of that rugged storm and the mountaintop where the gail was the strongest. A gangly top-heavy fellow such as himself would surely be hit down like a bowling pin (or so he imagined). Instead of continuing the traverse upwards, Damascus began the treacherous jourey downwards to where the ice turned to rock, the rock to earth, the earth to pine. "Sit we under tree?" He quizzed the wiser pair, having no clue about the fundamental storm survival rule of never huddling under trees (because THAT was a textbook way to get struck by lightning). "!!!” |
