She was as light as a feather, as a bird drifting on the wind. Her spirit was free, not to be caged by anyone wishing to chain her down.
Her eyes were keen, mice could not escape her sight from miles away. Her song was a miracle, capable of holding the power of life and death.
Her heart, however, was heavy, as she had no flock to call her own. They'd been hunted, brutally slain by those who called themselves hunters of the mythical.
Now, her song was heavy, too, as she sang to still the desire for vengeance within her.
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Tiny Stories Part 2
Short StoryMy second collection of microfiction, sometimes dealing with the mundane, but mostly dealing with the magical. Unlike the first collection, the stories in this one are based on inktober prompts.
