Title: Wingspan
Date: April 2nd, 2024
Author: Z. E. Wayland
License: CC0; To the extent possible under law, Z. E. Wayland has waived all copyright and related or neighboring rights to this work.
Two-Thorns curls his claws around the clean edge of the tower window. Below, a sheer drop that grew in height the longer he looked. Beyond, the valley where he had watched the sun spread its wings of light in a soaring ascent. Beauty, he knew. Mimicking its rise, he too spreads his wings.
Light and warmth fall on feathers and scales. His brothers, sister, all left through this way. To glide out was the only escape. So, he readies himself. Plenty fell, plenty survived. Pacing to the back of the wall, he ran. Then, out to the window. Then, out to the edge. Then, stopping.
Two-Thorns, once more, at the clean edge of the tower window. The chains upon his leg tighten. No sound, no feeling, and yet they remain persistent. With nothing to gnaw on but the memories, he remains, he tries again, and he stops again.
He continues. The pacing, running, gnawing, and slinks back to where the chains once were along the walls, where they would have been the most slack. From there, curling in his own wings, he watches as the sunlight fades away. Again. Again. Repeating even as his wings touch the ceiling, even as his body presses against the wall and floor, even as the only thing that could fit through the window is his eye. From there, he watches as the sun flies free, endlessly passing by.