5th Trial of The Rebirth Cycle 722
-‡- The wind flowed smoothly beneath the sweep of his wings. Each descent of his wings kept him in flight, kept him at an altitude where he could see through the tree tops above, till a clearing passed below him. Twas then he would pull his wings against the winds he would be flying through to go forward. Causing him to stop as each feathered sect fought against the winds, fluttering amongst themselves in rapid continuance until he was able to pull himself up into an angled stance within the air. A few strokes of his wings were needed to keep him hovering whilst he cast his eyes downwards into the opening through trees to the sought earthen ground far below.
Ochroid eyes flickered and rapidly shifted beyond the branches, determining it was wide enough for him to drop through. The expansive bearing of cerulean feathers were folded along his body behind him. The feel of their lightness in weight hindered by the still passing winds that were of a strength to be argued with that day. The same winds that whispered at his ears, and sent annoying gusts against his wings with intent to remind him that he was endowed with magic. Magic that he was of a mind to ignore as much as he could, but had difficulties as he had grown.
In the next few moments, the trees became a blur, as gilded wings were no longer being used to keep him afloat. He dropped as soon as they began to fold behind him. Coroth waited, his attentions drawn to an opening further below where the branches did not fill voids of the area with their canopies. Waited until it was clear enough again to unfurl the majestic length of assembled feathers that would again sweep away from him in the midst of the hasted descent. His fall was stalled and in time allowed him to land more gracefully upon the earthen ground below. Perhaps he was getting better at flying.
As his boots impacted the ground, a thud was felt vibrating through his feet, he had not stopped as gracefully as he had hoped. A jarring at his heels was felt emanating well into his lower legs as they took the brunt of the descents impact. His wings swirled behind him as the pain afflicted his thoughts. Yet in moments the pain would wear off, and he could bring himself to other matters. Matters that had brought himself to this area. To Hunt.
His longbow was unharnessed from the quiver bound upon his back beneath his right wing. The length of feather quilled arrows rose above his shoulder where one was plucked free as the bow itself was allowed to slide through his loosening grip till the pommel of its center was felt through fingers in its passing. A sudden grip then tightened, and held it in place along the lined ridges that were carved into the leather bound grip.
As the bow and arrow came together in front of him, he began to serenely feel himself become one amongst the many trees surrounding him. A stranger amongst the towering sleeping giants. Nor was he there for peace, for he bore a weapon, and had intent to kill one who lived amongst their number. The grass was tall where the clearing was wide enough to walk through. Where the trees had not soaked up all of the water from the land from deep beneath the surface. The green of the land was followed, seeking a path, looking for lengths of the tall thin reeds that might be broken, or stamped upon altogether.
