Plucking Stars

Mortis needed a breath of fresh air after spending a few weeks in the Armada. Reconciling the home he knew with this rugged mountain pack was difficult. He missed home when he was away, and then he felt suffocated when he was back. He just wished it would make sense.

It was late by the time he made it to the little Valley on the outskirts of the desert. The sky was awash in shadows, and the first hint of starlight began to peek its way around the dying light. He approached the burbling stream on quiet paws, spreading his wings around him like a coat as he stopped at the edge. He could just make out the outline of his reflection. Hints of dark blues, and faint glowing tones of white. Lately, what felt like the face of a stranger.

He reached a paw forward, stirring the water with the tip of a toe, blurring the image. He let out a soft sigh and leaned back on his hunches. Content to while away the evening, far from the responsibilities that plagued him.

"Mortis Fatalis"