Flight to Light

Fairtips plucked at her daughter, infuriated by her sluggishness. “Come Prose, they will leave us!”

“Mother, Father, just wait.” Fairtips watched her daughter Prose shake her head, swell out her chest and – with enormous mental effort – rush to the rest of the impatient colony. Fairtips watched her with a strange feeling in her throat.

“She is beautiful,” someone whispered. Fairtips started, and then turned to the glorious form of Legance. Fairtips nodded, noticing for the hundredth time how Prose imitated his elegance, his poise. Together, they went over to the colony. After a slight pause in which nobody spoke, in which she could feel the tension and the excitement in the air, they set off for the last part of their long journey.

The colony had been traveling for nearly three weeks now, without much rest and with much hope in their hearts for the warmth that had left their previous home.

“Mother,” Prose was beside her now. “Why does the cold come? It is horrible and evil. Why does it come?”

Fairtips shook her head. “The cold is not evil. Our God, The Great Maker, has made all, including the cold. So it cannot be evil. The Great Maker loves us all. And anyway, we are guests of this new place. We will come back to our beautiful home soon.”

Prose narrowed her eyes. “The Big People are evil.”

“They are not of The Great Maker.”

“But–”

“They are not of the Great Maker. Prose, go to your father.”

Fairtips sighed as Prose left. They were at the last part of their journey. It would end today. She hoped they would not meet the evil Big People.

After hours of straining muscles and straining their endurance, after weeks of waiting and hoping and getting excited, they found the place. Their leader suddenly started to work faster and she sensed his urgency. All of them worked harder. They crossed flat, green lands, topped a hill and–

Fairtips sighed. There it was. A beautiful, winding river banked by dark, fertile soil and a few rows of trees. It glittered under the large and warm sun that had been smiling down at them for many days. It glittered so graciously that she almost choked. She was right. Anyone who made this beautiful place could not but love all creatures. The Great Maker was loving. The Great Maker was, after all, was the maker of this beautiful world. She felt it in every moment as the they went down to the river, every time when a child would cluck in ecstasy, every time Prose would say, “Mother, Father, this is brilliant.” She settled in with a peaceful heart.

Something under their feet moved. She felt a second of confusion, which was quickly replaced by panic.

                                                                      *
David bit into his carrot with a satisfied smile as the net pulled up under the birds’ feet and a chorus of terrified wails filled the air. He strode forward to the neat catch. The birds were white, with colored wingtips. They were healthy. For now. Half would die on him, if he knew them. He bit into his carrot again. “Come on guys. Time to pack. We gonna sell soon. Get the cages ready.”
                                                                    -540 words
                                                 

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