He was tired, so very very tired, of walking. Overall he’d had a rather bad time of it, though he was interested to go back and speak with that stallion again, and the pretty young mare he’d met… Well. The other stallion, the one with the clawed feet. That had been enough to simply make his entire day just awful, much less his week. Now he wanted to find his cousin, and he wanted to find him badly. Cleite was just not the best walker in the world was all. He was used to flying, and had taken it for granted for so long that now that he was grounded…it was awful. Just on top of everything else he had sore legs.
Not nearly so sore as his wing though. Grimacing, Cle stretched it and then gave up. His panicked flight from the skinwalker, the rumors did not do justice to the things apparently, had probably set him right back to the way he’d been when he first got hurt in defense of his ungrateful half-wit cousin. But as annoying as he was, Pure was family. Cle wanted to find him and make sure he was in one piece. Their time apart had hardly been as pleasant and relaxing as he had so been looking forward to. More like stressed and worried over finding his cousin in a ditch somewhere. And guilty. For leaving. Or, really, for not chasing after Pure when he left.
Oh this would be so much easier to do if he could get his usual bird’s-eye view! With a heavy sigh the young wind stallion doggedly continued his trek. Pure had to be somewhere…
A crow has not the eyes of an eagle or a hawk, but Taiza still could see the wind soquili down on the ground below. His white wings and mane stood out against the earth even more than his purple coloring against the greens of the grasses. These soquili were not rare, nor uncommon or unusual to find. But finding one who should have been in the sky? On the ground? That did strike the crow as odd.
Curiosity piqued, the bird swooped down to get a closer, and better, look. He was, after all, just a crow. He could not see so well from so far off the way most raptors could. But yes, it was a winged one, with two good big wings. And it was walking. How very strange.
Brushing low against the sky so as to be within comfortable speaking range, Taiza called out to the stranger, “The air is clear and soft today, there is no storm upon to stray, so why does one with wings travel in such a grounded way?”
Cleite blinked as a bird, a bird? Yes, a bird. It just swooped fearlessly right down out of the sky to him and began speaking. And what a manner of speaking it had. Did it rhyme intentionally, or was that just the way the words had come out? Did it speak like that all the time, or was it playing with him? Cleite snorted, the whys were not so important after all. “I walk because my wing is sore,” he explained, not quite willing to tell a complete stranger that he was hurt, and a strange stranger at that, but seeing no reason to hide everything. He would not be rude and ignore the bird after all, and perhaps it might even be nice to have a small bit of company… hadn’t he just been wishing for a better view of the area? A bird’s eye view? How…coincidental.
“Too sore? Too sore to fly and soar?” Tazia glided in an easy loop, it was far more pleasant to loop than to hover. Looping let him make use of momentum and whatever currents that could be found in the air down here. Hovering meant a lot of work. “Such a shame, to walk is such a bore.” And more so for a crow, as walking therefore meant a great deal of undignified little hop-steps. Occasionally worth it, but only occasionally. Flying was definitely the way to go. “Though I suppose two legs is more difficult than four?” The soquili did have four long strong legs after all. He was walking like the other grounded ones, not skipping and hopping along like a bird.
Pure, Cle decided, would never have been able to work out what the bird was saying. “I can walk without much trouble, yes,” the young wind agreed, “I would rather fly though. Walking allows me to meet all manner of people, so I suppose it is not so boring. But it seems to take ages longer, and it is harder to look for what I am looking for from down here.” He did not add that his hooves felt tired, or legs really. That would just be whiney after all. And whining was not polite. Speaking of polite… “My name is Cleite,” he finally introduced himself. It should have been done sooner, but it seemed most of those he spoke with didn’t really stand on formalities really.
The crow bobbed his head slightly, eyeing the feather-strewn mane thoughtfully. If they were going to converse he might catch a ride with the soquili. It would save him breath and surely a little crow would not much be noticed by the, to him, large stallion. “Taiza, nice to meet you. How do you do,” he replied with a short cawing laugh. He already knew of course. Cleite was ‘sore winged’ that was how he was. But it was still part of the greeting and he liked to say it. If the soquili wanted to be polite, then Taiza would try it too.
Always in rhyme then was it? Cleite tried to watch as the crow looped around him, but grew tired of it when he began to feel mildly dizzy. “I am well enough,” he sighed, “And I hope my cousin is too. I’ve been looking for him for a while now, you haven’t seen him have you?” Oh. Wait. Wait a minute. Did he just…yes. With ‘too’ and ‘you’. The bird had him starting to do the same thing. “But you know family and how that can be, right?”
“Ah, too true, too true. I know what family is like, that I do.” The crow looped again then added, “Would you mind if I caught I ride on you?” It would make speaking more convenient after all.
“…sure, feel free,” Cle sighed, it would hardly be any more demanding to walk with a crow on his shoulder. And at least it was company. Right? “So do you often ask strange stallions to carry you to wherever it is that they’re going then?”
Taiza chortled to himself, landing lightly between the white feathers of Cleite’s wings on the stallion’s shoulders. “No no, only those who know the wind are those I would know to be a friend,” the crow explained, his red-tipped claws careful in his grip as he settled down for the ride. As he was not going to any one place in particular, simply going where the wind took him, it only seemed fitting to settle onto a wind soquili. The ‘wind’ was still what was taking him to wherever he was going after all.
Cleite could hardly feel the bird’s weight, though the location of it did make him a touch nervous. “Mind the wing,” he cautioned, “I know you’re not heavy, but it is still sore.” Otherwise he rather thought he didn’t mind at all. It was just a little fluffy bit of warm on his back, and as odd as the bird’s speech patterns were, it was nice to hear someone else speaking. Not to mention, Taiza was nowhere near as aggravating as Pure. And the crow would probably look after himself, so no hassles there. So long as the bird didn’t care that Cle had a direction picked out already, there would be no issues at all. And he could leave at any time. A little company was nice though, and especially some company that was small and nonthreatening.
The crow fluffed his feathers, settling himself quite comfortably. “Of course I will mind your poor wing. Do not worry, Cleite, you will not feel a thing.” Idly he preened a stray bit of white and teal mane near his perching spot, quite pleased with the turn of events. A free ride, and a friendly conversation. A good day indeed.
Finished
