Ravine had fallen asleep beside the whisperer's fire hours before the first ray of sun appeared on the creaking snow—early Autumn was struggling to reclaim the Spiral. Slowly but surely, the white began to weaken, and meltwater trickled into the ground, dousing the tranquil flames. Frost glanced at the quavering sun, at the efforts of Autumn. He sensed the reluctance of Winter and felt the cold sigh when it finally relinquished its grip on the land.
As if celebrating, Autumn sent a swirl of vibrant green leaves scuttling along the earth, shaken from faraway trees.
Frost felt himself brighten with the colorful weather. He arched his back, stretching, and bounded across the wet ground to where the leaves lay. He recognized their species immediately. His eyes furrowed.
They had come from the south.
But there was no wind in the land of stars.
He whipped back to where the woman and songbird slept.
"Ravine," he said, kneading his paws on her arm. She awoke.
Frost angled his ears forward. "I think somebody wants to see you
And I think we can help your Spire-bird
But we must leave soon
Before the being in the north can notice."
YOU ARE READING
Aeolia
General FictionA woman runs from everything. A songbird joins her from nowhere, singing colors and images. A whisperer finds the pair among a field of poplars and graves. A dark and vicious viper stalks them from deep in the earth. They must flee from the Viper...
