does it really matter what form it takes?

Zephyrus rushed to the steppes (with permission from his parents, of course) on the winds, overtaking the wolves below who might have headed out that way and observing from above the odd spherical bubbles of autumn that surrounded each statue. From a vantage point of above he could nearly pick out the exact placement of each statue, simply from observing where the autumn began and ended and navigating to the center of it all. It was all a beautiful wonder and one he appreciated heavily, as the autumn winds were a good bit warmer then the snow that covered the rest of Auster's lands. Unfortunately for Zeph however, the continents weather held such vast difference that no longer was the autumn pleasing once he crossed the bifrost. Outside the magical bubbles Boreas was in the thick of summer and each time he passed through the weather phenomenon the wind would bring a chill to his colorful feathers. Ah, well. At least he had the castle's temperature to be grateful for.

He landed gently upon a massive stone in the middle of the steppe, approaching the familiars with a polite bow and nod of his large head. He wished to take part in the games held here, especially the activities tailored around the young. The familiars beckoned him onward toward the straw wolf crafting station, gave him vague instruction and sent him off on his way to work while they attended other business. Alone with his own thoughts, Zephyr began to plan out his work.

A straw wolf wouldn't do, no, if this was a representation of his work and what he could do, Zephyr was going to do a bird like himself. A bird his size could be just as well a guardian of the harvest as a wolf could, after all. He began with the feet, scavenging two large branches out from the material pile to use as a sort of skeleton. Something needed to hold the weight of the straw bird up strong. He worked the straw in circles around the legs to hide the bark texture, devoting nearly an hour of his focus to them both before he was happy to deem the legs complete. In birds the limbs should be featherless, and Zephyr enjoyed how the tight weaved straw and rope appeared similar almost to the real thing.

Moving next to the body, Zephyr would need a LOT of straw. Thankfully he had a massive wingspan and could scoop piles from the offered materials, which mysteriously seemed to replenish each time he took more away. He packed the straw together tightly with his wings atop the legs until it formed a big ball for the abdomen, and then carefully worked the rope-wrapped logs in tight so they would not fall. With that the main body was created, and Zephyr could move onward to properly add to the chest and shape the stray strands. More straw and more heavy patting with his wings found the straw figure beginning to take shape, it's body becoming round and even a bit curvy by the back end. There he would elongate the straw shapes, making them appear akin to feathers making a wide tail.

The next job was the head, and while Zephyrs wings and talons were becoming sore from hard packing and fussing with balls of straw, he took careful care to ensure this one came out tight and clean looking. If it was a jumbled mess you would not be able to see the beak, and clearly it was an important distinction. Pulling and prodding the shape, he worked it into something vaguely birdlike and plopped it upon the body, using his beak to shove the straw together so it all held into one cohesive shape.

Lastly were the wings, the most important part of it all. Zephyr knew he could do them held against his body, but what sort of guardian for the harvest might that be? He bothered a familiar for her attention, but as he opened his beak to ask the cat for assistance she wordlessly pulled from the pile two slender but long branches and a roll of cat gut. Zephyr kept his questions to himself, taking the offered items reverently and moving back to his straw bird. The thin branches he jammed into the shoulders, allowing them to stick out horizontally from the structure and form the top of the wing. The cat gut he tied in various places all across the branch, letting it hang freely down and ensuring the length of each was sufficient in being shorter at the wingtip and longer by the base. A few more strings of gut tied the loose ends together and formed a rough but fluid skeleton that might wave in the wind. Attaching the straw to the wings was much harder and in places the wing was lumpy, but time and effort saw Zephyr's vision complete.

Hours had past and Zephyr was heavily attached to his work, already dreading leaving it here. Why couldn't he take it back to the Hallows with him to keep? Reluctantly he parted from his creation, thanked the familiars for their assistance, and took flight once more to see what other activities were offered for this week.

Word Count: 880

"Zephyr"