A shadow passed overhead, the mocking silhouette of another bird on her initial spring flight. She would swoop so proudly among the thick cluster of trees, calling out greetings to her other friends on the wing, maybe even showing off a bit for the males busily gathering the best materials for building nests.

Kyu huffed under her breath, giving her unfiltered opinion of that bothersome red pest whose flashy ways were as much an embarrassment as a taunt. She gave her feathers an irritable shake and plodded the length of her ground-level nest to peer into the murky green light of early morning.

She didn't bother trying to stretch her wings. They were a reminder of what made her different. She loathed them with every feather of her being.

If she wanted to dine on the truly juicy grubs up in the trees, she had to struggle her way up through the vines and branches like some blasted squirrel - without even the benefit of leaping from one branch to the next. She dared not cross the open grassland outside the forest to check out the neighborhoods in other groves. There were wild dogs and barn cats and the Great Bird knew what other threats that would be all too glad for a nice Owl Casserole. All her life she'd settled for whatever she could grub from the ground and filled her nest with materials that filtered down through the canopy.

She could not attract a mate, not when the most basic mating dance was beyond her ability. She'd never had eggs of her own.

No season was easy for a ground dweller but spring was always the worst. Birds of every variety were always on the wing, always flitting from the berry bushes to the wildflower grove and over to the stream for a nice bath.

How she longed to join their ranks, to glide even for one blessed hour! To launch herself down on unsuspecting prey instead of hoping some half-deaf old mouse would be dumb enough to wander within striking distance. She would court the Owl King, high in his mighty perch. They would fly over the entire world, from the frozen tundra to the unforgiving desert and he would shower her with presents.

She saw him only in her dreams, a massive tawny owl of great beauty. It was said he had once flown too close to the sun and that was why his pinion feathers on both wings were the black of night. How she longed to rub her beak gently along those glorious feathers and take the light of the sun inside herself!

Another shadow overhead.

She worked her beak through her feathers, each pesky mite crushed with the wrath of one who has lived an entire lifetime being denied the thing they most desire. Dreams are for fledglings that have not yet braved the edge of the nest. Reality is a platter of wriggling worms and the slight damp of yesterday's rain storm.

She downs her dull breakfast and turns her back on the upraised roots that serve for a door. Tucking her head under a useless wing, she allows her thoughts to take flight to that inner world of wonder where anything is possible and where her heart and wings are both capable of soaring.

art, overlay by atempause

story by Pureflower

profile by usagi

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