feather fortune

It seemed an easy enough command, but Vanta felt the weight of it. Six choices with so many options? And the choices she made would reflect upon her very future? Could one stupid choice be the difference between seeing her mom again or not, or of whether she'd ever have children, or something else entirely? Vanta hesitated over the offered feathers, eyeing them carefully until Zephyr urged her with his words.

'Pick what feels right.' He suggested, and Vanta pushed out her paw to pull from his talon the first of them. It was blue and beautiful, like her mother's markings. Moving to the next, she picked another of a similar shade. On the third she grabbed for a black one - black, like her disappointment and pain - and on her fourth, a white one - her hope. The fifth and sixth she pulled pieces of fluffy down, soft and warm and inviting.

Holding the feathers back out to Zephyr to grab, the pup waited in anticipation for her 'reading'.