These days, the country air whistled a song of madness. It was in the way the clay-feather birds feasted upon their offspring. It was in the way a honey-bark tree sets itself ablaze, destroying along with itself, the forest. And so, the Revolutionaries seeing themselves in that nature become inspired. Moss green flags fluttered restlessly atop the old ruins lining the path to Varsomme. Ancient buildings drooped with sick, covered in parasitic vines. Their thin blades twisting through the cracks of the stone bodies, grasping at that madness in the air the same way the flags slithered in that wind. As if yearning for their own host to leech off of. Fiel, though, was content to watch the brigade marching past from afar. She stood upon the …show more content…
Atlas, the Canyon Runner, a bird named for the maps and about the size of a war-horse—if such a beast were bipedal. Fiel steered the feisty animal towards the cliff-edge and stood herself about another ledge or two above the bird in order to more strategically hook the heavy cargo onto Atlas’ saddle, who had recently molted and was getting bigger—and consequently …show more content…
“Here’s all you need—” Fiel threw down the saddle off of Atlas’ back, the whistle crafted from honeywood round her neck, one last sack of feed and lastly—she grabbed hold of Atlas’ reins—staring into the birds’ innocent cock-headed gaze. “Very good!” The woman said, before unlocking the various mechanisms attached to her door. Fiel impatiently hopped from foot to foot, tired after the long journey, a habit she picked up from watching after her noble canyon runners—Suddenly, Atlas clipped at her shoulder. One long-held bite, as though holding her there in place—he would normally let go—but Atlas held her there for a long time, and it was then, Fiel realized she had been shaking. Was he trying to console her? The old lady finally emerged from her hut. She was short, half of Fiel’s own height, and Fiel wondered if this would be a good idea—but before she could do anything about it, the lady dropped a coinpurse into her hands and snatched at the reins, pulling a flustered Atlas forward. He screeched, flapping his wings and raising a leg as he prepared to kick— Fiel did not hesitate. She jumped on top of the mighty steed—holding him there underneath her. “There, there—shhhh. Shhhhh.