CYRENE
the monarchs flew free;
yet they circled around her.
Something—someone—was watching her.yet they circled around her.
So accustomed was the girl to the voice of the forest, that every fledgling’s chirp, every fawn’s tremble, resonated deep within her avian bones. To the wood nymph’s trained ears, then—a brush of whispering feathers against wood, the rustling of frozen leaves underfoot—were telltale signs of a timid, lurking presence.
Timid, because no sinister being ever made a mistake as foolish as sound.
With hushed breath made sharp as crystalline shards by the frigid air, Cyrene traipsed solemnly through the powder-white snow. She would not be able to resume her herb hunt in peace, without first tracing the thing that hunted her. Ever so casually, sable curls settled precariously across her amber eyes as she let out a soft yawn of feigned drowsiness. Clueless she would act, until the lurker’s head lay between her jaws.
Cheerily, Cyrene let the pleasing thought fill her mind as she tucked crimson wings smartly along her sides—and burst into a sudden scamper through the exasperated evergreen pines. As swift as a sparrow, she flitted to and fro like a lost little chick, heading everywhere and nowhere all at once. Had they followed her? Not that it matters, she hummed in delight. A hunt, however serious she took it, never failed to pump sweet, sweet adrenaline through her racing veins. It had been too long since she’d had such fun.
From the first muffled rustle that had drifted into her swiveling ears, the keen huntress had pinpointed the direction of her little lurker to a grove of young saplings a ways left of her. After a thorough scouting of the land she'd cleverly disguised as mere aimless dashing, Cyrene settled herself neatly against an especially wide redwood trunk. Its snow-covered needles obscured her lithe frame almost completely from sight; cautiously, the girl dared a shadowy glance outwards—and a feral grin painted itself lovingly upon rosebud puckered lips.
For just a few paces in front of her, a shadow stood prone and tense against a similarly shaped trunk like a prize waiting to be claimed. I’ve found you.
The enigmatic figure was much taller than she had anticipated, and as slender as a doe. Expansive eagle wings hung tensely across a dainty back; no doubt the soft feathers Cyrene had heard scratching against rough bark so clearly. As she strained to observe more through the foliage, wine-stained shoulders relaxed the moment she realized it was only a girl! Tenderly, she bit back a laugh. What a frenzy she had worked herself into over a nonexistent threat.
I hope I will not frighten her, sneaking up like this. Softly, Cyrene stepped out from amongst her hiding place with not a trace of the fierce huntress remaining in her elfin prance.
@Aibreann | gah this post is everywhere ;-;
