Hemming had a frame that, if it were more practiced, would be made for running. His thin body and long legs made it easy to leap through the tall grass, the wind not catching him the way it might catch a larger wolf. It wasn't something he did that often, though, and his untrained muscles let his feet fall clumsily on the ground. Anu passed him quickly, predicting the path of the kite as it teetered high above the ground. Ultimately, it would be the flimsy tail that Hemming had added as an afterthought that would be its downfall.
Without consciously thinking about it, Hemming was constantly personifying the kite. Like himself, the thing had freed itself from the grasp of what was holding it down, and, like the kite, he had overlooked a little aspect of himself and been snagged. Though, despite all this, if it was sturdy enough, the kite would fly again, and modifications could be made to avoid another crash. Perhaps it was more important to learn from one's mistakes than to avoid making them in the first place. What sacrifice should be made, then: the freedom of not being bound by the string, or the security of being held from disaster?
The tail of the kite, like Anu had predicted, became caught in a high leafy branch on the tree. Prevented from flying the way it had been but still propelled by its forward velocity, the contraption arched downwards, eventually hitting a close by branch and settling there. The male followed the white female as she continued to run toward the tree, feeling the joy of running and of companionship, but feeling just a little sad that the kite had come down out of the sky. Their meeting had turned into a rescue mission, once again. |