BEDE WROTE HOW A SPARROW FLEW
from dark through a lighted meadhall into dark again. / Tiny wing of your lungs - each beat a breath.
If I am being honest – I am not sure that I should be leaving Terrastella yet.
Not alone, at least. That’s done little to prevent me from leaving regardless; I’ve been granted the honor of a sacred task, and I must find the heir, and I have no desire to waste time. Besides. This world is beautiful, if strange, and I have lived two lifetimes as a knight and trained all of this one. I am well-capable of defending myself, should it come to it.
(And – it is probably selfish to say it, but I’ve never truly stretched my wings before. There were always trees above my head, and I could never break through them. In this place, there is nothing but endless, endless open sky. In some ways, it is horrifyingly vast, but in others, I feel strangely free, though I am not at all sure from what.)
From above, this new world is far less overwhelming. I think that it is because I can’t see the details of it, only the broad strokes, so, like an unkempt blade, the edge is blunted. When I am on the ground, every unfamiliar thing bites. I get caught on every little detail like a rabbit in a snare – I agonize over every murky puddle and evergreen tree. From up here, I can recognize that ridge of black-grey stones off in the distance as a mountain, but it doesn’t invite the vacant stare I’m sure that I’d be giving it, were I on the ground. (I still cannot fathom the simple changes of terrain in this land; the way some stones reach towards the sky, and sometimes the earth dips into tunnels. The spaces underground, in particular, invite my curiosity, and something like horror. There is something alluring about the depth,; something horrifying about how it could swallow you whole.)
I land when there are no longer trees. Not for miles. I don’t know what to call this rolling expanse, but I know that it feels clear and visible in a way that is almost threatening. For the first few days, the sky was a novelty. Now that I am becoming used to it, I am not so sure that it doesn’t sometimes feel like more of a threat; in the forest, there were always places to hide, and that dull, reasonable voice in the back of my head that is still a knight likes to remind me that Novus is something quite different.
Hearing the voice and listening two it are two different things – even though, when I don’t, I usually find myself regretting it.
The grass is high, here. Higher than any grass I’ve ever seen before (I hope that it’s actually grass; it smells a bit like it, slightly sweet), and pale, more of a tan than a lush green or a gold or even a dying brown. I can’t help but grin a little at the way it tickles my stomach and the downy feathers at the base of my wings when I brush through it.
What pulled me down to the ground here in particular is the great, cascading mass of brown things on the hillside in front of me. I’ve never seen anything quite like them, and, even though the-voice-in-the-back-of-my-head keeps telling me not to get any closer, I do anyways, until I can get a good look at the one at the front of the group.
The creature is…bulky, and covered with shaggy curls of brown fur. Its back rises to a considerable hump before its short neck, and its face is surrounded what is almost a small mane of black curls, which rise from its skull like hair and drip from its chin like a beard. It has a set of short charcoal horns that curve backwards from above its ears, and its large, black eyes seem to carve hollows in its face. Its tail is wispy and short, and it lashes behind it irritably, as though to stir away flies.
I am striding through the tall grass towards the strange creature before I can think much of it, my wings snapping into position at my side. It raises its head, chewing on a mouthful of grass that’s halfway sticking out and staring me dead in the eyes, and I tilt my head at it just a bit, not quite sure what to think. (It doesn’t seem quite sure what to think of me, either.) I move closer and closer, bridging the space between us until I’m only a few feet away from it. It stops chewing and snorts at me.
It isn’t a horse. It’s barely even horse-like. I’ve been plenty of things that aren’t horses, but I don’t feel any sort of kinship with them now, and I didn’t feel any sort of kinship with horses when I was them. I just felt like what I was at the time, so I know better than to expect this creature to feel anything particular for me, even on the off chance that it was a horse at some point or another, in one life or the next. Of course, knowing that doesn’t stop me from getting a little too close.
The creature snorts again, pawing at the ground, and, before I can think about it, charges at me.
I whirl, catching a face-full of chestnut hair in my hurry to turn, and I take off sprinting, putting my legs (which are, in my youthful state, near-obnoxiously long) to good use. I don’t feel like the creature should be faster than me, but, even though I wouldn’t dare risk a look back, I feel like I can hear its lurching, heavy hoof-beats gaining on me. I remember my wings almost too late, spreading them out belatedly and leaping into the air rather gracelessly in my stumbling rush – not quite quick enough to avoid a toss of the creature’s head, which catches my right hindquarter up against its horn. It hurts, a little. Mostly stings. With adrenaline pumping through my veins and my heartbeat so loud that it nearly drowns out the wind, I barely notice.
I land on the next hillside over, which is apparently enough to dissuade the creature from following me again. My wings lower themselves to my sides again; I notice that I’m shaking, but moreso from exertion than from fear. There is a shallow gash on my leg, which is dripping more blood than I feel like it deserves, but I’ve had worse.
I’ve had much worse, as a knight on the battlefield, but now that I’m not running, it does sting awfully badly…
I straighten, trying to quell my trembling and steady my heartbeat, and stare suspiciously at the creature, which is making its way back to the group. I’d thought that it had wise-looking eyes, like one of the older priestesses, or the ancient and strange creatures that lived in the deepest parts of the forest. I shake my hair out of my face, gritting my teeth.
Evidently, if it was wise, it did not see fit to share its wisdom with me.
@Erasmus || nic babe....oh my god.....
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