Abigail Hobbs (
unshattered) wrote2017-02-02 01:56 am
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At some point, she stops at a tree with large roots that wrap around its trunk and spider across the soil. Abigail doesn't know how long she's been walking. Time doesn't feel the way she knows it did once before. The thing she thinks of as the sun, can be midway in the sky and then at dusk when she blinks. Though there's always been light through the leaves above her, Abigail has a certain feeling that days have passed while she's been walking.
It's cold. She should be colder in her small brown jacked and red scarf. Abigail crouches by the tree, and then slips between the roots. The space isn't big enough to fall through, but enough for her to lean back against the trunk, cradled in the roots along the tree.
It's cold. She should be colder in her small brown jacked and red scarf. Abigail crouches by the tree, and then slips between the roots. The space isn't big enough to fall through, but enough for her to lean back against the trunk, cradled in the roots along the tree.
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What she is feeling is that she has nothing to lose.
So this time, she doesn't hesitate before reaching out toward Raven's hand.
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Though there is a tangled set of knots of blue thread at the base.
"Think bird."
Raven is still grinning. Some might call her pleased as punch.
"To change. And think of yourself to come back. Landing first will be better, I am thinking. Still."
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The feather blows up toward the trees. A small bird, with smooth spotted with white and shaded with green and gold, darts down toward Raven's hand.
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"It is not so inappropriate, this."
The feather Abigail was holding has returned to Raven's hand again.
Her smile remains no less wild.
"Shall we?"
And then she is flinging Abigail's bird-body skyward, leaping into the air in her own bird shape to follow.
Tag is best when it is not played alone.