Today, for instance, Breeze was fluttering from branch to branch, curiously navigating the arboreal tangle. He'd come to know much of the growth and shape of trees and vines this way, and much about the animals that lived in the boughs besides. He'd learned how to weave by watching other birds build nests; had seen snakes and mongooses (including his own dear Shadowstripe) on the hunt from an entirely new perspective; had even witnessed the cold fury of a feathered serpent cutting through the air after its prey. He'd nearly been prey himself, on a few occasions - eagles seemed to be particularly irreverent of his glowing eyes, though they did heed his voice when he scolded them. Closer to the earth, as well, he'd gotten intimate glimpses of the tangled hearts of thornbushes, where the cleverer songbirds dwelled, and where their sweet fruits were often untouched by ravenous kin.He had seen such a great many things in the shape of the songbird that he was, to put it bluntly, running out of new things to see. With an inward sigh, he lit down from the branch he had been resting on - there was a nice, placid river below him, and he fancied a bit of a bath. As he began preening in a large puddle on the bank, however, he realized that he wasn't alone. Movement in the water caught his attention, and he turned one cautious eye to the dark shape causing the ripples headed in his direction, tense and ready to take flight. It was too small to be a caiman - unless it was a very young caiman - but it was the wrong season for that. At the same time, it had the wrong dimensions to be a watersnake.
The mystery resolved itself suddenly in the form of - a very colorful otter! It bounced its way sinuously up the bank, feinted an attack at the disguised stag, and then rolled back into the water with a splash. After one stunned moment of stillness, Breeze realized that the otter was... trying to play with him. How peculiar! The colors of it, and something about the smell, seemed somehow familiar to him. He glanced up and down the stream, half expecting what he found - a buck upstream whose coat was a very familiar shade of sky blue. Definitely one of Willow's get, then, though no way of knowing if he was an actual blood relation without -His thoughts lost their trail when he was tackled by a fuzzy interceptor, whom proceeded to n** at him gently as he squawked - actually squawked - with indignation. From out his beak flew a flurry of scolding notes as he attempted to kick - or at least irritate - the otter off of him. It left of its own accord and rolled back into the water in short order, then peeked back out to stare at him as he flipped upright and attempted to smooth his muddied feathers. The creature's gaze was oddly arresting - Breeze found he couldn't look away (- well, with one eye, at least). It lolled back up to where he stood and gave him a good sniff, chattering curiously. Ignoring Breeze's own curious piping, it nudged him gently towards the bank, then slid back down it into the water.
The whole thing reminded him strongly of a doe he had blessed recently - what had her name been? Expecting to... Fly, that was it. But it seemed this fellow was expecting him to swim! She had invited him to slide down a muddy hill, too, hadn't she? And he'd told her... well, something ridiculous, some excuse. What had be been afraid of then? What, the otter's imploring gaze asked, was he afraid of now?
"Why are you afraid to jest with me, then, Breeze?"
The memory of that dream, the voice of the Motherfather, rose unbidden from the very depths of him. He felt now, as he had then, foolish - so foolish - for pointlessly denying what was a natural urge, to caper and play, to joke and to jest, to have fun, for the sake of something so flimsy as image and professionalism. Who was he trying to impress? It was pretty clear what at least one important figure thought about that.
Throwing caution to the wind, he slid down the muddy slope, and was treated to the curious sensation of growing longer and fatter before splashing down. With a powerful wriggle that came as naturally to him as breathing, he propelled himself towards his waiting playmate. They spent the afternoon gamboling about in the water and on the bank, stopping often to fish and occasionally to groom themselves. It was, in all honesty, one of the best days off Breeze had ever had...
Which made it all the more shame that it wasn't real - or, not real on the physical plane, for that it was worth. He woke from a dream of swimming with a sinuous stretch, confused for a moment about the elongation of his legs and the loss of his toes. He spent the entirety of that day with a craving for fish, a longing for the embrace of water, and a smile on his lips.