For Midge but AW!
Kestrel wandered and didn’t talk much. It was dreadfully lonely, but he supposed a part of him was hoping to get used to it, eventually. No warm body to curl up next to at night, no familiar golden face to chew on, no silver bullet racing alongside him. He knew, kind of, what he was getting into when he… It was never going to be easy, thinking about what he wanted. Every thought still went back to her.
It wasn’t all bad, at least. Every so often he got a visitor; a kestrel, like him. Presumably the same one that had tried to eat his eyeballs, presumably here to try again. He’d catch the occasional glimpse of red and blue feathers flitting through the trees, watching him. He liked to rip off chunks from his hunt and toss them some distance away, trying to coax the little falcon down. It worked, once, but she’d taken to the wing in a flurry of angry screeches when he’d gotten too excited and lunged to say hi.
He called her Dandelion.
She watched over him, even now, her feathers ruffled disapprovingly as he squelched through the cold, cold mud he’d churned up from the bottom of the swamp. A shame she couldn’t indulge with him. He wagged his tail, flinging loose debris into the ether, and she pointedly turned her head. Kestrel just grinned. He’d catch a frog for her later. That should make her happy.
Kestrel wandered and didn’t talk much. It was dreadfully lonely, but he supposed a part of him was hoping to get used to it, eventually. No warm body to curl up next to at night, no familiar golden face to chew on, no silver bullet racing alongside him. He knew, kind of, what he was getting into when he… It was never going to be easy, thinking about what he wanted. Every thought still went back to her.
It wasn’t all bad, at least. Every so often he got a visitor; a kestrel, like him. Presumably the same one that had tried to eat his eyeballs, presumably here to try again. He’d catch the occasional glimpse of red and blue feathers flitting through the trees, watching him. He liked to rip off chunks from his hunt and toss them some distance away, trying to coax the little falcon down. It worked, once, but she’d taken to the wing in a flurry of angry screeches when he’d gotten too excited and lunged to say hi.
He called her Dandelion.
She watched over him, even now, her feathers ruffled disapprovingly as he squelched through the cold, cold mud he’d churned up from the bottom of the swamp. A shame she couldn’t indulge with him. He wagged his tail, flinging loose debris into the ether, and she pointedly turned her head. Kestrel just grinned. He’d catch a frog for her later. That should make her happy.