Redwingblackbird: There's clutter in my head, so I'm clearing it. Lots of one-page ditties.
Kels: Hooray for one shots!
Party in background: Huzzah!
Redwingblackbird: shakes head and puts quill to parchment
--
There were twenty seven reasons not to go outside. To remind herself, Kathalita had scrawled them on one of the white walls. Twenty seven numbered, logical reasons she should not go outside during migration season. The three weeks in the middle of November were the most dangerous ones for avians living outside the protective enchantments of their homeland near the Castle of Stars.
The girl paced inside the confinement room- though "confinement" could hardly describe the room they had created. Fifty feet long and twenty wide, the exterior wall was entirely glass... bulletproof, shatterproof, magicked glass. The three interior walls were painted stark white, with small black runes painted in the very center of each one, sealing all magical ability. A human being kept in the same room would feel relaxed among the simple, comfortable furniture and shag carpet.
A raptor paces in much the same way when it knows it is caged in a zoo. They are meant to feel free, but birds of that strength and intelligence know they are not, no matter how much space they are given. Kathy walked on her toes, the way all predators do when agitated. Her arms were crossed behind her, each hand gripping the opposite elbow. The great wings that spanned from her back floated half-open behind her, and her head was held high as wave after wave of birds passed the great window, some stopping to twitter a goodbye and goodseason, though tears glistened in her strange gray eyes.
She was not always alone. In the afternoons someone would visit to make sure she hadn't gone stark raving mad. A young man crept into the room, startled to see her crumpled on the sofa, head in her hands. He tilted his head, confused, and white hair fell in front of amethyst eyes.
"Kathy?"
"How much longer Shadow?" her voice was quiet, defeated.
"A couple of days." His own voice was soft, but it was from concern. "Are you sure you're alright?"
The monstrous wings flapped once, weakly. A rain of stormy-gray feathers fell to the snowy carpet. The boy sat beside her and pulled a feather from the floor. It was one of the primaries, two and a half feet long, and dark as a wicked summer storm. Silently, he slid into his demi form. Shadow's ears grew pointed, his fingers clawed, and purple-black wings stretched from his back.
"I'm molting," she replied. "Molting! And all I would have had to do was go out there..."
He reached over and stroked her wings. The loose feathers came out easily in his claws, but he could clearly see the new ones coming in and smiled.
"It's not as bad as you think, it's not like you'll be bald." She buried her head further in her arms. He tugged her into his embrace and murmured, "It's alright, you'll be out soon..." She relaxed and was soon fast asleep.
They stayed like that until dawn came, and as it did, the last bird flew off.