March 109
It was spring, a night in the spring of year 109, to be exact. HailWing laid outside her den underneath a makeshift leather canopy, one side of the cloth nailed to the barrack and the other tied around a nearby sapling. It was meant to provide shade on sunny days, but HailWing spent enough time there that it had stopped being a strategic location to hide from the sun when she wanted to be outside and started to be something of a favorite spot. There was a particularly comfortable patch of grass and foliage from the last fall here that had been kept preserved through the winter by the cold temperatures and snow.
Abigail was on her bed, sprawled underneath a threadbare blanket, lulled into a deep sleep by alcohol and boredom. HailWing didn't know why, but nights like this -still and quiet, distant stars shining much too brightly for it to be so late- made her uncomfortable. No, perfect nights like this weren't meant to be spent looking up at the stars. They were reserved for surprise centipede attacks and inebriated festivity and frivolity between the depressed and lonely, or desperate attempts to make such a difficult existence bearable. Or that might be how the humans would put it. They would prefer their cities or their farms, with lanterns lit through the night in a prosthetic world of plastic and metal, as far away from nature as possible.
HailWing got up. If she hadn't, she would have fallen asleep outside, looking at those pretty stars. She had a nasty habit of rolling around when she slept and sleeping in that particular place would have caused a rather nasty fur day to wake up to. Hail stretched, yawned, and traveled uneasily and a bit tiredly to a better location. There were places that she could never fall asleep in, places that had too many memories filled with determination, blood, and sweat. When she visited the training field, for instance, Hail always got the feeling that there was something that needed to be done, some exercise or practice required before she went back to the den. That was the ideal place for lazing about when she didn't want to risk sleep. With that in mind, HailWing went there, assured that there would be no disturbance or undesireable thing there at this time of night.
Her tail swished bath and forth and her brow was furrowed into a tired expression that, no matter how little sleep she had gotten the night before, she would never show in the morning. There was an allure to that sort of undignified behavior at night. No one was there to see. No matter what she did, it wouldn't hurt her reputation the next day. It was strangely liberating. At night, she could show a part of herself that not even Abigail had seen. A HailWing weary from trying so hard and never getting anywhere.
It was spring, a night in the spring of year 109, to be exact. HailWing laid outside her den underneath a makeshift leather canopy, one side of the cloth nailed to the barrack and the other tied around a nearby sapling. It was meant to provide shade on sunny days, but HailWing spent enough time there that it had stopped being a strategic location to hide from the sun when she wanted to be outside and started to be something of a favorite spot. There was a particularly comfortable patch of grass and foliage from the last fall here that had been kept preserved through the winter by the cold temperatures and snow.
Abigail was on her bed, sprawled underneath a threadbare blanket, lulled into a deep sleep by alcohol and boredom. HailWing didn't know why, but nights like this -still and quiet, distant stars shining much too brightly for it to be so late- made her uncomfortable. No, perfect nights like this weren't meant to be spent looking up at the stars. They were reserved for surprise centipede attacks and inebriated festivity and frivolity between the depressed and lonely, or desperate attempts to make such a difficult existence bearable. Or that might be how the humans would put it. They would prefer their cities or their farms, with lanterns lit through the night in a prosthetic world of plastic and metal, as far away from nature as possible.
HailWing got up. If she hadn't, she would have fallen asleep outside, looking at those pretty stars. She had a nasty habit of rolling around when she slept and sleeping in that particular place would have caused a rather nasty fur day to wake up to. Hail stretched, yawned, and traveled uneasily and a bit tiredly to a better location. There were places that she could never fall asleep in, places that had too many memories filled with determination, blood, and sweat. When she visited the training field, for instance, Hail always got the feeling that there was something that needed to be done, some exercise or practice required before she went back to the den. That was the ideal place for lazing about when she didn't want to risk sleep. With that in mind, HailWing went there, assured that there would be no disturbance or undesireable thing there at this time of night.
Her tail swished bath and forth and her brow was furrowed into a tired expression that, no matter how little sleep she had gotten the night before, she would never show in the morning. There was an allure to that sort of undignified behavior at night. No one was there to see. No matter what she did, it wouldn't hurt her reputation the next day. It was strangely liberating. At night, she could show a part of herself that not even Abigail had seen. A HailWing weary from trying so hard and never getting anywhere.
