Spotlessly creamy plumage covered the breast of the large bird; almost all over it was soft to the touch. The elegant pitch-black neck curved, serpentine, gleaming as it undulated limply. Legacy cradled the goose in her arms; full-grown, it was large but surprisingly light. For a second she rested her chin against its chilly feathers. The bird was dead, but not at her hands. She'd found it dangling in the branches of a tree, tugged it down in a shower of feathers. Seemed it had fallen from above, under some mysterious circumstances, perhaps even from the clasp of an eagle.
She'd been looking for a gift all day. It was going to make the anticipated meeting into an even happier occasion. Now... well, perhaps this was the perfect present, but she wasn't pleased by it. Yes, everything died. Death was a kindness. She knew these things as well as any predator. But the bird itself, its design, its uniqueness - it was so beautiful, and it would soon be gone forever. It sounded foolish, but so many things were fragile; there was so much to lose. She'd come close to losing it all. She'd smelt it, the void. There weren't words for the serenity and despair that came twisted together in moments like those. And there was only one thing, one friend, whose eyes could make her forget it all. She didn't know what that really meant, either.