
Gisli stopped beneath a looming tree with high branches, leaning somewhat against its trunk, resting and evaluating. He had decided that he needed to strike out on his own and forge his own path, find his own family, but so far he hadn't found much of *anything* in the weeks since he left Brynhildr's side. He hadn't supposed it would be easy but he also hadn't thought it would be this **boring**. He sighed. Unless he set out to find a herd he had no idea how to find other Soquili by any way except for chance, and chance seemed to not be on his side.
The thought of finding a herd made him anxious...the only one he'd been near was rather fanatical about retaining members and keeping stallions flightless...a thing he quite frankly found to be repulsive. Gisli treasured his soft, gold-tipped wings. He and his mother had left the herd they were considering living in when they kept insisting that his wings be clipped if he were to stay. And while he was grateful to his mother for standing with him and ensuring his freedom, he also knew that their paths were not so closely entwined that he should follow her, or ask her to follow him, and so here he was - alone, herd-shy, and curious, with waning enthusiasm for actually finding anything resembling the life he'd envisioned for himself.
So he peered around, wondering if he should keep following this narrow path he'd happened upon, go back the way he'd come, or leave paths entirely to wander aimlessly. The pros and cons seemed to be equal for all of them at this point, but the mental list he was building fell away as he heard a twig snap nearby. [292 words]