Hi! says the blackbird, sitting on a chair

Pia Hayes · 04-04-2012, 04:00 PM

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do you believe

in the day that you were born?

tell me, do you believe?

Word Count → 1,043 :: The song she's singing is here; lyrics are not included in word count.

Hi! says the blackbird, sitting on a chair,

Once I courted a lady fair;

She proved fickle and turned her back,

And ever since then I'm dressed in black.

Pia sang as she walked, guiding the filly behind her across the great highway that cut through the territory. The land was desolate, the cracked asphalt hot on her paw pads. The wind howling mournfully through the hollow, insect-like husks of the cars, but her soft song countered the ghostlier tune, sad as it was. Her horse’s hooves clopped loudly on the pavement behind her.

Her first few nights in Ichika no Ho-en had been in seclusion. She loved others, and she longed for the warmth of friends to nestle besides, but the territory was so expansive that she hadn’t seen any of the pack wolves other than the High Shepard. She’d been oddly shy after being welcomed into the family, wondering what the next step would be. After sleeping in the grass, pollen dusting her mottled grey coat, for the past few nights, she thought that a nice house might be in order.

Hi! says the little leather winged bat,

I will tell you the reason that,

The reason that I fly in the night

Is because I lost my heart's delight.

The nights were still chilly sometimes. As much as she liked to sit outside and watch the stars once the sun set and the moon took his place, and as much as she knew a true wolf was meant to survive in the elements, the concept of taking up an old human den had overcome her determination. For some reason the gods had seen fit that luperci inherit the earth, and she so badly hated to waste resources.

She fell silent after singing of the woodpecker and his red head, coming to a halt and looking at a minivan next to her. Large as it was, it shook with the wind. Russet hairs blew in her face as the filly stepped closer, and she stroked her lovely strawberry-and-snow muzzle before stepping closer to the window. She tested the door to see that it opened, her heart hammering in her chest as she peered within.

“Oh, Poppy,” Pia breathed, her breath rustling like the wind as it freed itself from her closed throat. The years and the vermin had stolen away flesh, but she could see the frilly end of a little dress in the back seat of the vehicle. She whimpered and stepped back against the horse’s shoulder. Maybe she didn’t want to find a house; she might not be able to bear what was inside. Although decades removed her from the deaths of these humans, their forerunners, her heart was full of empathy and sadness. She cried for strangers’ grief just as easily as she cried for her own.

The roan filly whickered, whether for comfort or for the sake of noise, her handler did not care. She kissed the pink patch on her nose and pulled on her reins again, putting distance between them and the van. After a while, she pulled herself up onto the horse’s back and set her to galloping with a yip, the wind raking its fingers through their manes, rubbing her cheeks feel raw with the speed.

She was breathless when the river and town came into view. Letting Poppy slow down to her own pace, she rode toward the water and found a place on the bank that sloped little enough for the horse to walk. Dismounting, she scooped up handfuls of water and slurped them down, enjoying the fresh coolness. She offered Poppy water too, her eyes finding the first houses on the outskirts. Abandoned the place might be, but it looked homely enough. A sign declared the place as “New Glasglow” while other small signs marked stores and gave admonitions. Singing, she led the filly down a little road.

Hi! says the swallow, sitting in a barn,

Courting, I think, is no harm.

I pick my wings and sit up straight

And hope every young man will choose him a mate.

She stopped in front of one of the buildings within sight of the lovely East River. A storm had knocked down a great tree, crushing half the one-story house. Overgrown grass and dandelions swayed with the whims of the wind. A mailbox lay on its side in a puddle, bent and broken and a sorry sight.

Pia let her voice fade away and picked up the melody with a melancholy whistle as she attempted to set the mailbox upright again. However, her brown eyes found the doorway beyond the thick dead branches of the tree, and she abandoned her task as she trotted over to jiggle the doorknob. Glancing over her should to see that Poppy had begun to nibble the grass, she ducked indoors.

Paws touched cold tile then soiled carpet, and her eyes adjusted to the gloom to see a large living room ahead of her. To her left, the house was crushed by the tree. She tiptoed inside and ran her fingers over knickknacks on a shelf, many depicting humans with hoses and big helmets and red trucks. There were two couches: a big sofa facing a television and a loveseat off to the side. Between them rested a coffee table, old barn wood crafted expertly with stone tiles set on the top. She smoothed her paws over the tile with a smile before stepping out of that room to the kitchen.

This room was less decorated, although there were a lot of plates and cups and other similar objects in all the cabinets and drawers. A ring of plastic flowers surrounded a candle that had never been lit on the marble island.

After opening the pantry doors and startling an elderly mouse, Pia ventured back to the living room and noticed a dark hallway. It seemed tucked into the house, secluded, and when she opened the door it led to, she was greeted with the sight of a king-sized bed. Immediately, she jumped up on top of it and spread her hands over the comforter and pillows. It was softer than she’d dreamed possible.

It took a lot of willpower to get her to slide of the bed. She hit her thigh on one of the square bedposts, yelping sharply and hunkering on the ground until the pain dissipated. Frustrated, she covered the post with the edge of the comforter then began to walk back through the house to find Poppy standing in the driveway, her head tilted curiously, a wad of grass in her mouth.

“It’s my new house!” Pia Hayes declared, and laughed sweetly when her friend stepped closer. “You ain’t gonna fit.”

The strawberry roan filly snorted and went back to the dandelions.

Pia Optime by Me; table code from the Mentors!

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