The night was still. Though the trees of the forest stretched far above the two stryx, there was no wind to make the branches shudder and shake. A portion of their leaves had already fallen to the forest floor, but some still refused to give up their perch. The air was chilly and smelled fresh. Warm sunshine wasn’t quite enough to make up for it, but thick feathers helped to keep out the cold. The sky was cloudless and blue. Days like these were becoming rarer and rarer as autumn fell over the land.
Chris was carrying a small satchel full of twigs and stones in his teeth, feet crunching the brush beneath him as he strode onwards with
“How much further?” Fable swivelled his head to look at Wisp. She didn’t bother to look at him. Dejected, he turned his attention back to the ground. It moved beneath them all so quickly as they flew, bushes and trees, creeks and rivers, rocks and boulders. They even passed right by some mountain goats that were not sufficiently startled by the appearance of the enormous dragon birds.
Wisp glowed in the darkness. She shined brighter than the stars and glowed like a nebula. It was difficult to take their eyes off of her. On top of everything, her demeanor was cold and mysterious. None of them could ever quite tell what thi
Spring had sprung. It was a stereotypical phrase, but a true one. Buds had seemingly popped out of nowhere. All sorts of plants they had not thought of in two seasons had burst from nowhere. Some smelled sweet - others irritated their noses and burned their eyes until water streamed down their cheeks. Things were peaceful in the night, even in the wildness of Spring. Though the sporadic call of the odd bird and the constant chirping of the crickets was loud compared to the silence of winter, it was all ambient noise to the stryx as they combed the mountainside for things worth stuffing in their bags. Tiny specks of white dotted the black can
Fat snowflakes slowly fell from the overcast skies above. The day was still. No birds sang, no breeze blew. Long, naked trees jut up from the ground. All the snow had been knocked from the branches in a windstorm the day before. Drifts of snow were piled up at their base, snow caked on to the crevices in the trunks on their eastward side. Grey tones and dull browns blanketed the world in a thick cover. So distantly that one could not be certain if they were hearing it, a small stream babbled its way through a narrow cut in the earth.
Ashcaller’s rapid footsteps crunched across the snow and ice, her breath heavy as she ran. It wasnR