Paint the Sky with Fire

The sun was coming up, painting the sky with fire. The space between the willows was beginning to fill with the soft flutters and trills of waking songbirds, the daily orchestra tuning up.

Safely hidden in a bed of willow leaves, Tyr watched the sun's slow ascent. He had always preferred sunsets to sunrises - sunset heralded the return of night, and night meant he could be alone, temporarily freed of the confines of his father's hate. With his new freedom however, he was finding it in him to appreciate the warm glow as the sun returned to the sky.

He stood and stretched, favoring his leg a little since it was stiff from the chill of the night, and cautiously crept down to the pond nearby. The water temporarily assuaged his growling stomach, but he knew he would have to start improving his hunting before he starved to death. He couldn't depend on fortuitous accidents to keep him fed, and the energy from his rabbit catch in the orchard was beginning to wear thin.



"Speech"

Nothing to gain, everything to fear