Life’s thrown me plenty of curveballs lately. So, you know what that means…Positivity Camp is on hold until I can find the time / inspiration to finish the next two chapters. I have two finished beyond that, yay! But they don’t really make sense without the missing and totally not written ones…haha. Yeah. Anyway, I just needed a break from it, and this is the story my mush riddled mind came up with.
Each morning brought with it the warnings of the changing season. While no frost yet settled on feathery limbs or froze the dew on the grass, the air each morning carried the first nip of winter’s fast approach. A few red leaves drifted down from the still lush canopy above. The fallen leaves joined others and together they dipped and rose with the gentle ripples on the pond.
Heads rose and wings flipped tightly closed as the ground, which had been still a moment before, shook with some creature’s approach. A beam of light sent them all to honking in protest. When one took flight, the others followed. At first, they simply took to the water, with all eyes intent on the shore.
The harsh unnatural light went out. Then came the shrill cries, a heavy boom followed by three others. Still, the geese remained, their eyes locked on the shore. These sounds, though unusual, were well known. As long as they stayed in the water, the two-legs would be unable to reach them from the shore.
Many turned away, content to find a place to rest on the opposite bank. Still one looked back, ever cautious about the shrill cries of the young two-legs. In a short time, the small ones reached the shore. They paced the bank, looking for a way in or for a dry path to the flock, but they found none. There were several more cries as they paced the shore, but the goose that watched turned her head away and followed the others.
There was no warning then, as a stone broke the water’s surface near the geese. With startled honks, they took flight. Tiny as the rock had been, no goose would risk a broken wing, not with winter so close at hand. More tiny rocks whizzed through the air as young two-legs continued their attack.
In a moment, the flock was above the tree line and all looked to one another to be sure they were unharmed and still together. Then came the cry as one noticed the absence of another. The others cried at her retreat. They knew all too well the dangers of being alone, but they could not risk staying for the life of another. They each had their own mate to worry about. It broke their hearts to see her descend, but there was little they could do. -Sarah Maree-
The lone goose dove beneath the trees, searching for her love. She found him, struggling to take flight. He had struck a tree in his fright and had injured his wing. Together, they made their way back to the pond. The area had grown quiet after the flock had left. The two-legs, it seemed, had already moved on. Not that it mattered, the water was safest for an injured goose, not the ground.
They swam for a time as the female inspected the wing. No matter how encouraging her honks, or how fierce her hiss, nothing could make her love take flight. He tried, of course, but the wing would not hold his weight. Each attempt left them both more on edge.
When it seemed nothing could be done, they closed their wings or closed them as best they could, and swam side by side in slow circles around the pond. Food would be a problem, shelter too. They both knew, but though the male urged his love to leave, pecking and hissing with insistence, she would not stray from his side.
More two-legs came and visited the quiet pond. Luckily each new visitor left them alone. There were no shouts or cries and no stones in the air. Still, neither could forget the small two-legs and the danger of their throws.
The sun set and under a darkening sky, the two swam to shore. It had been a long day, more tiring than most. They checked the wing once more before snuggling close for the night.
That night something stung the female’s side. She tried to move, but her legs remained unmoving. A single wing extended toward her love, her last act of protection as she sank back into the darkness of unconsciousness.
When morning came, she awoke with a hiss and a swivel of her neck. The memory of the night before, as strange as it had been, still lingered on her weary mind. Her mate rose and hissed as well. They swiveled about, inspecting each bush they could find. The grass had been trampled, that much they could tell. Together they searched, but nothing more could be found.
Then she noticed, a white thing on her mate’s wing. She nudged it and he hissed at her. Then he too began to inspect the odd thing. As he did so, his wing opened wide. They both honked in surprise.
He stretched it out and before she could protest, her love was aloft! Now it was he who was waiting for her to take flight! Together they rose, this time careful of each rosy leaf and limb in the path of their flight.
The end ^_^