The Green Feather
folder
Fantasy & Science Fiction › General
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
3
Views:
947
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0
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Currently Reading:
0
Category:
Fantasy & Science Fiction › General
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
3
Views:
947
Reviews:
0
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance of characters to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. The Author holds exclusive rights to this work. Unauthorized duplication is prohibited.
Prologue
The Windflight Saga|Book One - The Green Feather|
//...// = dream sequences
*...* = flashbacks
Prologue - Dream Sequence
//Tumbling over, stumbling and fumbling around. A high shriek of pain and rage echoing around the strange stone place, raking my talons over the wooden floor; the man-animal\'s terror, his mate and young cowering behind. The stench of raw fear rolls off them in waves and fuels my anger. A sharp pain beneath my wing where the man had shot something at me does nothing to allay this and the red heat of the flaming bran my aggressor holds repels me, driving me backwads towards a cage, an object I recognise. I do not like cages.
A yearning for freedom and the open skies and the exhileration of the hunt. Gliding, swooping, dodging low branches or tracking an animal in the long grass of the fields. The kill, the scream of mingled fear and pain, ripping, tearing with my talons. Hot blood spurting from severed arteries, spilling over the carcass and the sweet taste of the flesh as I devour my prey.
The memories make my imprisonment all the more unbearable, but instead of fighting, I am suddenly tired. Slipping into oblivion, fast falling into darkness, I am gone.//
//...// = dream sequences
*...* = flashbacks
Prologue - Dream Sequence
//Tumbling over, stumbling and fumbling around. A high shriek of pain and rage echoing around the strange stone place, raking my talons over the wooden floor; the man-animal\'s terror, his mate and young cowering behind. The stench of raw fear rolls off them in waves and fuels my anger. A sharp pain beneath my wing where the man had shot something at me does nothing to allay this and the red heat of the flaming bran my aggressor holds repels me, driving me backwads towards a cage, an object I recognise. I do not like cages.
A yearning for freedom and the open skies and the exhileration of the hunt. Gliding, swooping, dodging low branches or tracking an animal in the long grass of the fields. The kill, the scream of mingled fear and pain, ripping, tearing with my talons. Hot blood spurting from severed arteries, spilling over the carcass and the sweet taste of the flesh as I devour my prey.
The memories make my imprisonment all the more unbearable, but instead of fighting, I am suddenly tired. Slipping into oblivion, fast falling into darkness, I am gone.//