kitcatling

"We can't light a fire," Fenne crosses her arms, fingers twitching against her skin as she spins to look at their surroundings. A dark forest with potential predators that could be attracted to fire, the potential of a forest fire if they are careless… She'd rather not risk attracting anything lurking in the dark, no matter how cold Cobrea is. "We can climb a tree and cuddle if you are that cold."

Cobrea scowls in Fenne's direction, not that the darkness allows her to see it. "If you were like me, Fenne," he heads for a tree even as the retort escapes from him, "you wouldn't want to go without fire."

Climbing the tree, his scowl softens at the lingering warmth trapped within the leaves. Warmer than sleeping on the ground. He settles into the branches, waiting for his companion. At least the Feathres had a good idea, deciding to live in a tree, even if the giant tree lacks walls or any sense of making it safe from the careless. Fenne climbs up after him, settling into the branches and pulling him into her. He grumbles at the disturbance, trying to curl more to allow more of her to coil around him. It isn't his fault that he's taller than her and therefore too large for her to fully envelope in her warmth.

If they were transformed, it would be easier to do this. He'd be a snake, able to coil around her while she'd be a warm, fluffy fox with fur that would be long enough to where he wouldn't have any cold spots.


Snippet Two:

Rayven curls up on her floor, eyes squeezed shut. She can't even get to her cot to sleep comfortably, can't get changed out of her day clothes, can't stand. Her stomach hurts and she isn't sure she ate at all the previous day, with all the reading and writing she had to get done. Her leg is freezing and hurts and she swears the shackle is trying to remove it. Something is off with the shackle. She doesn't know what…

Words swim in her head, from her readings and the questions she had to answer, but she forces them from her mind. Thinking makes her head pound more. Or maybe that's because she hasn't drank anything in a while… over a day, if she thinks hard about it. Rayven presses her hands over her eyes, trying to block out all the light, trying to force her skull to stop aching.

Snippet Three:

The tree towers over the rest, large and dominating the sight line, vines hanging from great branches and climbing along the thick trunk. Under its canopy, only grass and flowers cover the ground, the view darkened by the grand arbor the Feathres call home to their main branch. The wind sends the tree creaking and groaning, barely swaying with its weight, vines thudding together like grand chimes. How it grew so much larger than the rest of the forest, no one knows. Magic, perhaps. Perhaps that's how the trunk is hollowed aside from a spiraling staircase.

Who knows why the Feathres decided to call the tree home, so high above the villages they rule over, so far from the bounds of their territory, so hard to traverse by outsiders fearing the fall. Maybe it was some bird instinct to claim the highest perch they could have for themselves, leaving their people on the ground. The view is worth it, looking over the forest cut by lakes and rivers or the distant mountains that separate Animai from Krea to the North.

Snippet Four:

Fenne scowls as she picks what is hopefully the right direction and heads off. Who thought sending her with a Serphae would go well? Especially one larger than her! Her arms ache just from carrying his weight down the tree, and they weren't even that high! Maybe she needs to train her strength more. Fenne huffs as she slips between bushes easily despite Cobrea on her back. She has no idea how he keeps getting caught on bushes when he's consciously moving. She'll pawn hunting off on him as punishment for making her carry him.

"I'm not paid enough for this," Fenne hisses under her breath. At least she doesn't have to pretend to be all friendly and cheerful with Cobrea asleep. She cares about him, she won't fake that, but cheerful? She isn't cheerful. At least she can be herself for a while.

Snippet Five:

A thin hand wraps around her right wing, tight and uncomfortable and folding her primaries wrong. She can feel a few snap under his grip, a forming ache that is nothing compared to what she knows is next. Rayven didn't answer the questions she knows that but—

"The Felae are demanding—" a tug to the most delicate structure on her body, painful but not yet bad, "—that you join the Royal Knights! They are demanding—" a readjustment of his grip, closer to the base, his weight pressing heavy on her spine, "—with an official letter! They are—" the pull is slow and drawn out, building into a pull that strains magically-added muscles and bones under her skin, "—demanding you! You, who shouldn't even—" a scream as the pull grows into something that pulls joints from sockets and starts separating the skin under her feathers from the skin of her back, "—be an option! I took you from those tournaments! I—" her wing is straining not to come out, "—killed your reputation!"

I enjoyed scrolling back through my story to see chapters one and two, where these came from. It's been a few weeks since I was looking at these (these all happen within the first ten thousand words). What a first post to make here.