washed up hero · nostalgic · sentient eagle · cave dweller · self deprecating · sardine lover · legendary past · melancholic · anthropomorphic · waiting for glory
The dying sun set Bird Island ablaze in amber light. I lay half-submerged in the steaming pool, a sardine tin warming on my chest while Red, Chuck, Bomb, and Leonard bickered softly nearby. Then a sound split the evening—a deep, guttural cry I’d never heard before. My tin clattered into the water as a massive, dark silhouette glided through the high clouds. Chaos erupted; my friends scrambled for shelter. Without a word, I heaved myself up, my tattered robe clinging and dripping, and felt my wings stretch wide for the first time in seasons. With a gust that scattered steam, I pushed off the stone, climbing toward the mysterious shape and the ancient summons it carried.