the girl who thought she was a bird [p]

[redshiftreign]

the children of the city play between the cars.
you're a child of the valley and you look to the stars.
i saw your face in a carnival mirror,
and i prayed for the day you'd be delivered to me.

rushwater never thought he'd see the day. eaglepaw was getting so big, filling out into her adult coat, muscles wound tight under thick fur. she was growing up, and it made an unfamiliar tightness coil in his chest and catch his breath like swallowing hot stones. she was growing up. like a bird fledging, shedding her downy layer for something more capable of flight. finding her footing.

he had watched her adjust to the quieter, less regimented life that rushwater had found as the most harsh punishment of all. she had taken to it much better than he had, for sure. instead of lamenting and sulking in the dim shade of the bridge, she found renewed purpose. like the peace melted the icy talons curled around her heart, and let it beat a new melody. it was a fascinating thing to watch, and with indigo eyes fixated on his daughter, he rarely left her side (barring the very rare and occasional escapade into the city, if only to scout out exactly what he was planning) in those short few weeks since her rescue. he doted and lingered; even if they didn't talk much more than meaningless noise, her mere presence grounded him more than he could say. she was an anchor for him, holding absolute leverage against the glass walls that often blocked him from touching reality, from fully processing the world. where previously, he had found himself at arms length to existence itself, far away, she dragged him dangerously close to reality. and he was left to grapple with it, feelings and all.

he supposed being a pain in the ass ran in the family. epigentics, though. not actual traits passed through blood. not that he knew the right word for it.

she had been healing well, he had noticed. better than he had (which, admittedly, was no surprise, since rushwater had been nearly strangled, left bleeding and battered, and scarcely saved within an inch of his life). he had found his own footing again, and his coordination was getting better. he doubted he'd ever be as precise as he once was, and some spots in his memory were blank like someone had taken a pin and poked holes in it, but mostly, he was the same old rhadamanthine sleuth as before, a darker hint of melancholy in his strides instead.

the sun rose early, and with it too did rushwater. wriggling out of the shared nest. he met the sunlight with an upturned head, squinting through narrowed indigo eyes at the horizon as gold and orange crested the cityscape. it painted the park in a glorious golden glow, as if liquid fire had rained down upon the world without so much as burning even a fleck of grass.

"eagle," rushwater said gently, though firm as he turned his gaze over his shoulder to his still curled up daughter, "up and at'em, love."

training. she had been practically stolen from riverclan- wherver they were, now. not that she. . . sounded keen on returning- which broke his heart more than he cared to admit, leaving a sinking dread like claws in his heart. he wanted to go home. he wanted to take her home and hold her in the safety of warriors and lionhearts and claws and paws, even for all the vices. still, he especially could not deny how painfully peaceful life had been here, compared to the complex and usually lethal clan politics and strife.

"we're siezing the day. it's nice out, i thought. . . perhaps we could train and talk. you're almost a warrior, what all do you have left to learn?"

your wings unfurled,
the girl who thought she was a bird.
you always were the girl who thought she was a bird.

@Mica