The Masked Bird

Why do seasons change?

Why do the seasons change? Dad says that it's because the world tilts, but I can't believe that. I think its because the world doesn't like things to stay the same, but with the darkness it can't get bright and happy again. So it stays sad and cold, blowing gustily and trying to make people take notice. Though what does it want us to notice? The ways from before the darkness are gone, what is left to notice? Nothing but the ash and darkness. Why does the world keep trying to draw our attention, with its biting wind? Or maybe, like it is, it wants us to die slowly too. Dad says its natural, and things will get better sooner or later - but how soon is soon, and when is later?

85, 36th day after first snow.

It was always fun to get to play injured. It meant I could relax and be pulled by someone else - tonight it was Tom. He glanced back at me while I was tightening the chord of my crossbow. It seemed like the cable liked to pull loose of the knots I made, and that made the bolts fire worse, so I had to keep pulling them taught with a pulley system the smith at the town I bought the crossbow made for me. "What're you doing?" He asked, to which I raised the machine into the light, allowing him to see. I pointed out how the steel cord was pulled through holes in both arms, then knotted to prevent it from sliding back through, to keep the cable taut and allow it to transfer the power into the bolt. He nodded - clearly unsure but not sure where to ask more to figure out what he was exactly unsure about. A situation I could relate to, to be honest. Though the way pullies worked didn't really make sense to me. Just by pulling a rope around another round object, you could increase the amount of power you put into a rope? Did it function like a lever? As I was pondering the mysteries of how the machine I held worked, I noticed the sled slowing down a bit. So, without letting Cornell or Darren know at the front, I slipped off the sled and to my feet, putting my finger up to the mask's lips to let Tom know not to say anything, and began to stroll alongside him leaving the crossbow on the sled. It was pretty cold out, and odds were that we'd have to stop at the next suitable spot to get everything fixed up. A few people had broken some straps while tying everything down, but it'd been coming for a long while. It wasn't a surprise to anyone to be honest - some of those were older than I was, but as long as we stuck to the black paths, we'd find one of those metal boxes and be able to cut some new ones free pretty easily. One of the traders said there was a town down further south that used those metal boxes as walls to protect the town - apparently they had to deal with other people who wanted to steal? I didn't know why they would - hadn't Darren said it was bad? But at the same time, they were willing to fight for it, so wasn't that putting the work in? I didn't understand how it worked honestly - wouldn't it be easier for both parties to work together? Why did they bother to fight? Maybe we'd pass by that town at some point, that'd be nice.

As I focused back in on where I was walking, I noticed I'd drifted a bit closer to Tom, settling into a spot just beside him where his frame shielded me from most of the wind. He wasn't as big as Thomas - I don't think anyone is - or as agile as Sorna. But he had his own unique traits that the other two couldn't do, like even though it was so cold that if I licked my lips they'd freeze shut, his hands didn't shake even a little. Despite all the hard work he had been doing, he didn't seem even a little tired - beyond the whole being awake for a full night of course. As I was walking, I reached up and brushed some snow off of his back, the light powdery stuff melting in my hands. I tilted my head, looking at where the snow used to be. "You good?" He asked, though I barely noticed him. Instead, I spotted a flash of white in the moonlight. The silent wings meant only that little glimpse was all I'd get, so I pointed it out to Tom, letting him see what I saw. The graceful bird of prey, a gorgeous white owl. It was almost invisible in the snow, but my trained hunter's eyes. And once pointed out, Tom could easily track it. His eyes were those of a marksman's. They were this pale blue, specked with flakes of gold, like the shiny little flecks of gold like stuff that you could find in some places put in a bowl of water under the pale blue sky. Their position seemed to change constantly from every time I looked at the eyes, never looking the same as yesterday, or even the previous hour. "Well done there Lil' Bird" He said with a chuckle, patting me on the head. I grinned under my mask, pointing up at my left eye. "Yeah yeah, we both know you got better eyes than me" He said, shaking his head. Though his voice told a different story, clearly deciding to not laugh to avoid drawing attention to the fact that I was standing and not laying down like I was supposed to. I slowly faded out, just walking in my position close to Tom.