he did not know I saw
The sky looked different from the ground. Flat and finite, a strip of cold blue framed by the sunset gold of birch leaves trembling in the wind. Trembling and fragile and doomed to fall, just like him.
Odet tried to move his right wing again, up and down, up and down, only to stare sorrowfully at the drooping, iridescent feathers when the wing refused. Like it had the day before, and the day before that. How long has he been here, gazing up at the same unchanging sky, the same un-falling leaves?
His wing, cleanly broken, didn’t even hurt anymore. Just stung a bit at the joint whenever he hopped around gathering bits of food he found beneath the foliage, stored away by the squirrels (one had caught him pecking at his stash last evening -- Odet had dropped the majority of his seeds scrambling beak-first into a nearby tree nook, and had crouched inside hungry and shivering until he had dared to venture out in the morning) and the realization echoed blankly through his mind.
His wing would not heal on its own. He would never fly again. Never never never. Head drooping with exhaustion and hunger, Odet wove the words into a crooning song and drifted asleep wedged in the small space between a rock and a root, his broken wing ajar, his stomach curling in on itself like a woodlouse trying its hardest to disappear.
—
He snapped awake at the cracking of twigs beneath the talons (hooves -- Odet recalled sleepily how his mother had told her chicks all she knew about the hooved inhabitants of the land, which was mainly that they had feet-like appendages called hooves) of something massive.
Creak, creak, creak. Whatever it was, it was coming towards him. And he had nowhere to go. Shivering from the cold and the unpleasant clutches of fear, Odet closed his beak to steady his heart before he dared to stick his head up above the rock to see --
And chirped shrilly in alarm when he found himself staring into the velvet muzzle of one of them. The hooved ones. In his panic the jay jerked his wings towards him, only to chirp again, sharper this time, when a rush of red-hot pain assailed him. His wing, the broken one, had gotten caught between the rock and the root, and he couldn’t yank it free without hurting it even more.
So Odet chirped and chirped and chirped, weaker and weaker, warning the intruder to go away, go away, go away.
Odet tried to move his right wing again, up and down, up and down, only to stare sorrowfully at the drooping, iridescent feathers when the wing refused. Like it had the day before, and the day before that. How long has he been here, gazing up at the same unchanging sky, the same un-falling leaves?
His wing, cleanly broken, didn’t even hurt anymore. Just stung a bit at the joint whenever he hopped around gathering bits of food he found beneath the foliage, stored away by the squirrels (one had caught him pecking at his stash last evening -- Odet had dropped the majority of his seeds scrambling beak-first into a nearby tree nook, and had crouched inside hungry and shivering until he had dared to venture out in the morning) and the realization echoed blankly through his mind.
His wing would not heal on its own. He would never fly again. Never never never. Head drooping with exhaustion and hunger, Odet wove the words into a crooning song and drifted asleep wedged in the small space between a rock and a root, his broken wing ajar, his stomach curling in on itself like a woodlouse trying its hardest to disappear.
He snapped awake at the cracking of twigs beneath the talons (hooves -- Odet recalled sleepily how his mother had told her chicks all she knew about the hooved inhabitants of the land, which was mainly that they had feet-like appendages called hooves) of something massive.
Creak, creak, creak. Whatever it was, it was coming towards him. And he had nowhere to go. Shivering from the cold and the unpleasant clutches of fear, Odet closed his beak to steady his heart before he dared to stick his head up above the rock to see --
And chirped shrilly in alarm when he found himself staring into the velvet muzzle of one of them. The hooved ones. In his panic the jay jerked his wings towards him, only to chirp again, sharper this time, when a rush of red-hot pain assailed him. His wing, the broken one, had gotten caught between the rock and the root, and he couldn’t yank it free without hurting it even more.
So Odet chirped and chirped and chirped, weaker and weaker, warning the intruder to go away, go away, go away.
On one of his many adventures as a young colt, @ipomoea stumbles upon a bird in need of help. At first the jay is frightened, his broken wing leaving no means of escape. But perhaps Ipomoea can convince him otherwise, and take care of the wounded avian?
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This quest was written by the lovely @rallidae.
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How to tag this account: @*'Random Events' without the asterisk!
Once you respond, you may post to claim the quest EXP
This quest was written by the lovely @
Enjoy!
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