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N/A · 12-03-2018, 06:00 PM

Cyrus Rook

Paws made a heavenly crunch as he made his way further into the copse of silent trees. The sun had yet to peek over the horizon, but there was a blush of light pink light forming eastward that promised for a show that would rival the colors in the boughs above him. Even though the leaves were muted in the wee hours of the morning, Cyrus could tell that they would be beautiful the moment the morning rays alighted upon them.

He picked his way carefully among the frosted fallen leaves and short grass, his feather-accented tail lifted up to afford him balance in his exaggerated steps. Dark-tipped ears swiveled as he listened for the smaller creatures to begin waking, their trills and tweets beckoning morning to come. The songs he heard seemed to all belong to the smaller specimens, but he could not resist looking to the tree branches above to catch glimpses of fluttering leaves and a flash of feathers.

When he was in the middle of the trees and could no longer see the field he had come from, Cyrus paused, standing stock still. This was his favorite time of day, and he wished to see how different it was here in this new land. After a few moments, he leaned back to sit on his rump, tail laying haphazardly at his side. Acid green eyes ever watched the branches, jumping from one area of activity to the next, ears twitching to catch the sounds of predawn.

The Rolling Stone

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