just to watch them fly

[Hemming]

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The sky above was clear and welcoming, but the little bird did not leave the gray wolf's head. She merely sat, little talons pressed into his skin, and occasionally commented on a passing crow (conniving beasts) or the brightness of the sun. The Spirit Guide seemed to cycle through periods of extensive silence followed by constant jabbering, and at the moment she seemed to be transitioning out of a quiet spell. Occasionally, Hemming would feel her weight shift a bit as she unfolded and refolded her wings, but for the most part he was getting used to having her constantly between his ears. The absence of that weight was less familiar than its presence, now.       They voyaged, as Hemming was prone to do, and the male was quite pleased to have company. The lands they passed through were wondrous, and he had a constant companion to marvel with. She, however, was much less of a romantic than he was, and would eventually become bored of his awed ramblings. The wolf understood; after years of haunting the lands, a single beautiful day might not stir one's emotions as it used to. He had not asked Dagrun how old she was, yet, but knew that the souls of the animals that manifested themselves as one's Spirit Guide could be as old as life itself. It was a phenomenal concept, that the tiny flycatcher might have seen so much history unfurl itself.       Maneuvering through the sparse grasses and the tangled shrubs, the wolf's head was free of thoughts. The fresh air of the hills filled his lungs and his only feeling was contentment. Eons could pass in the silence that sat between the last word and the next, and the wolf would not have noticed. After a moment, though, the bird cheeped, "Look," and Hemming let his amber eyes roam until he found what she was thinking of. A butterfly, for the moment perched on the spiky branch of a shrub, raised and lowered her orange wings. The wolf admired its beauty, and the bird was likely evaluating its protein content.       He had stopped in his tracks to stare, and for a moment he stood completely still. When the butterfly lifted itself into the air again and fluttered away, Hemming followed it quietly and carefully. It was easy to see how his walks always turned into long, meandering adventures.

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