Posted by F E I on May 27, 2008, 2:21 pm, in reply to "THE SEERS' QUEST"
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It always begins with something small for her. A second though, a chanced glance, a faint scent. Always one of those forgettable, throw away moments that happen ten times a day, twenty if you count déjà vu. Fei does not forget them, but she is picky. A lifetime of wandering has made her as such, even more so now with the wind to ferret out those things she would find most interesting (as much under her control as it was of its own volition, guided as it was by her emotion rather than her consciousness ) and the birds to constantly chatter their ideas from on high ( most which prove impossible for the less than flight ready gray ).
It comes now as a tugging, gentle, somewhere in the back of her mind as she is walking the borders of the Glade and the Range. Not enough to stop her, but enough to slow her already ambling strides and turn the angle of them to follow before she has even noticed the pull. Now comes the thought, a curios ‘Oh’ as she settles in her stride, dark eyes alert, but not searching as she follows her invisible path back the way she had come. It takes her inwards a pace, but not far, the scent of the Glade still mingling heavily with that of the Range. The birds have fallen silent, or, at least, have stopped speaking at her, having long since recognized that walk; though easy, they are purposed and she does not take kindly to being needlessly distracted. There are an intrepid few ( a gaggle of finches and a black bird this time ) who settle upon the broad expanse of her back, dark eyes turning this way and that as they chirp intermittently.
‘What about that?’
‘Is that what you need?’
‘Oh, that looks tasty! Can I have it?’
‘I saw it first!’
‘Is that it?’
‘Are you sure it’s this way?’
And so on. She does not answer them, a small frown edging the corners of her lips. She knew this place, not as she ‘knew’ the Range on whole but knew this particular stand of pines with their raised roots and hunched shoulders, leaning first this way and then that. She’d chosen it, chosen it months ago, chosen it in the winter to house her first and only treasure. She knew this place, she knew it well, so why was she here, now?
‘Oh, how pretty.’
She stops then, craning her head to peer at the finch who’d spoken, the rest of the lot turning as well, curios.
“Show me.”
There is a flurry of wings and then a furious squawking as they all attempted to settle themselves out of the way, but well in sight as the finch hopped amongst the roots of a particular tree, Fei following cautiously with her dinner plate hooves lifted and placed with all the care of a ballet dancer. And then she spies it, a familiar glinting and the scent of water and she frowns, calling to her companion to drag it out if she can. That was not where she’d left Alshain’s gift, head lifted as she turned to cast a discerning glance towards a tree leaning so dangerously to its right it seemed on the brink of teetering.......and her dark eyes widen. The necklace was still there, tucked safely in the crook of the tree’s arching back with is gray feathers curling almost protectively about the now aquamarine piece of sea glass which collected the sun’s light and reflected it, almost like a beacon upon the crown which now sits at her hooves, feathers turning gently in the breeze.
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