Lostkavi

“Didn’t you just tell him that the weafer was bad?” “And wasn’t Kipsie still very pregnant at this point?” Grandpa nodded, eyeing the ground for any quick morsels. “Good memory, Jeffery. She was, and we both protested quite a bit, but Aurellios was still a big, dumb airhead in the beginning, and probably still wasn’t thinking too good after his konking. He didn’t have much to believe us at this point, he’d only known me for a couple hours. So, I followed, largely to keep this dumb lout from getting himself killed, and Kipsie followed to not be alone again after so long. So, with winters fury bearing down on us from over the peaks, we took the shotcut over the pass back the way she’d came to try and find the herd she had encountered many months back.” “Months? They wouldn’t still be there, would they?” “No, of course not! But as I said, airhead. And to his credit, it didn’t take too long for him to realize what an airhead he had been.” The sno- “Did it stop him from beng an airhead

It was the day. The younglings had been nearly plucking feathers in anticipation all morning. Grandpa had prepared himself. He’d planned the rote. “It wasn’t far as the crow flies to where this little lost mare was, but trudging through the snowdrifts made it significantly harder for our grounded companions. Progress was slow, but we ventured forth…” “It’s just a little farther ahead!” “That’s what you said half the day ago!” “Well, it’s a little farther for me, I can’t be blamed for your tardiness.” Grandpa rolled his eyes. “Why don’t you come down here and walk through this?” Aurellios snapped, panting heavily from forging his way uphill into this frigid wall of belly-deep ice and snow. Grandpa didn’t even may the remark much heed until he saw the opportunity for free snark, and so flitted down to a few paces ahead of Aurellios, and just power-skittered across the surface of the snow, barely leaving footprints in the freshest of dustings. He triumphantly glancing over his shoulder

“…and so, we began the long, arduous trek back up the valley. As he trudged below through ice and snow, though battered rock and tree, he turned his gaze ever on towards his guiding omen, me.” Grandpa got a few titters of approval for the lyricism. “But, all journeys are fraught with peril. I had the grand advantage of being able to see above the snow-laden forest, but my spooky companion had no such perks, and being so lost and confused, he was - a mite jumpy…” “Wahh! What was that?!” “It’s just some snow falling off a tree.” “What’s over there?! Something moved!” “It’s just a snowhare.” “What’s under this blanket!? I stepped on something!” “It’s just a snowviper.” “I do say, he got a pretty impressive jump out of that one.” He glowered up at the circling crow, nearly laughing himself out of the sky. “What a comedian…” Grandpa had to go perch on the highest bough of a tree for a moment, be was cackling so hard. “You- you - haaaahhahahahaha… ahem.” He ruffled himself, tossing little

PECK Grandpa’s eyes shot open to meet the intense glare of the fledgeling girl who had just rapped on his beak. “Grampa? You fall asleep?” He ruffled himself with a disgruntled squawk, and the floofing was enough to shoo the youngster back into the upper boughs of the shrub. “No, dagnabbit, I was just illustrating the story! Back in line, everyone!” It took them longer than he expected, but he didn’t have to bark at them again for them to all get back together and situated. “Now, where was I?” “Naptime!” He wished. “Well, as the golden-coated stallion came to once more, Winter’s wrath was already starting to set in…” Struggling back to his feet, the dusting of snow was now falling fairly heavy, and while the wind was mostly buffeted by the trees, it was starting to howl and bite. He couldn’t see the sun to know what time of day it was, but the ambient light, or lack thereof, suggested it was getting late. He drank what little he could from the trickling brook, and pressed on to find

“Gather round, children, gather round…” Herding children of every species was always a chore, but the general bustle of a group of fledglings was so much more difficult to manage once they learned to fly a little. They were easier to corral in only two dimensions. “It’s story time!” The furious twittering as the rallying cry rippled throughout the bush was immediate and raucous. ‘Story time, story time!’ was echoed ad nauseum as the gathered families all fled down to the innermost branches of the shrub, where down on the lowest branch, an old, slightly mottled crow sat, head drooped and leaning against the trunk of the bush, unsubtly propped against the branch in front of him. The mother flitted down to the perch he was resting on, giving him a quiet sigh of disappointed affection. “Oh, Grandpa…” “Hmph?” The old crow snorted, not twitching a feather. “Time to go get dinner.” Some feathers prickled a bit around his crest and nape. “Your turn to watch them.” “Mm-uh. Naptime’s over