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 Posted: Tue Aug 25, 2009 10:11 pm
Hazel let out a sigh of relief; clearly she hadn't offended Hollysong too terribly with her impolite outburst. "You're right," she said, pleased to pick up on the cues for the change of subject. Her troubles were her own troubles; it was beneath her to let them taint anybody else in the forest. Her great-grandchicks would turn out beautiful little examples of a noble type, and nobody- not even her ignorant former students- could ruin things for her. She wasn't young any more; she should be spending her twilight years enjoying life and passing on wisdom and goodwill, not tension and anger. Smiling, she bobbed her head when hearing about the beauty pageant. "Yes, I did hear that they were reviving the Summer Strut. Strangedye's behind it, right? Good luck with the judging; I heard something about males being allowed in, and the dye jobs today are so much more complex than they were in my day! Y'know, I thought about competing in it once, long, long ago, right after I'd graduated..." The old bird chuckled, remembering her youth. "But, interestingly enough, we got one of my other friends, the most die-hard combatant you'd ever meet, to compete- let me tell you about it..."
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Posted: Thu Aug 27, 2009 9:15 am
“Yes, Strangedye…” Hollysong repeated quietly and it was clear he wasn’t particularly fond of the organizer. Still, his typical pleasant smile soon returned to the old Chestnut’s beak and he moved closer to Hazel with the expression of one who expects to be entertained. “Really, you don’t say…“
The Storyteller sat in comfortable silence as he listened to the female’s story, slowly allowing himself to be taken by the relaxing mood that could only be achieved by two sentinels who have known each other for so many seasons. On more than one occasion he silently acknowledged that the female still had “it”, whatever “it” was. Time had changed the deep woods, granted, but she looked every bit as lovely as the first day he’d met her. Was it a matter of proportions? Of feather size or hue? Markings placement? Was beauty passed down to the younger generations (Willowbreeze was, after all, rather striking in spite of her plumage faults)? And would there soon be another clutch of perfect little Chestnuts carrying Drywood’s proud lineage and Willowbreeze’s grace? He only dared to hope. For now, Hollysong was perfectly content with the present moment, sitting with a pretty girl and listening to an amusing story.
--- The end ---
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