Boots&Cats&Boots&Cats

SPARKS WILL FLY, THEY IGNITE OUR BONES WHEN THEY STRIKE, WE LIGHT UP THE WORLD This was another familiar place, yet it was still different, like the Isles. He'd known those better, had been fond of them, whereas this forested labyrinth he had only traversed once and seen a few times more. Still, he knew the rift had branded this place, marking it, altering it from however it had stood in Helovia. His mother's tales had mentioned Helovia gained it though, not birthed it like its other realms. So then was it back home, was the brand actually a birthmark? Possibly, but like hearing a remade song before the original, Iskra was loyal to the version he knew first - the remake, the Helovian labyrinth. Now it just seemed, strange. Iskra found himself tugging on the metal knife he kept tucked between his wings. It wasn't until the flush of warm air blew across his feathers that he even realized he was toying with the blade, his mother's blade. Whenever he missed home he seemed to absentmindedly play with it, as if feeling it, wielding it, might bring him closer to home, or closer to her. He glanced down at it as he laid it in the grass, sighing loudly as he laid next to it. He couldn't invoke it unless he wanted to be assaulted again, but the urge to try once more was itching on the back of his tongue. He wondered if he might see Helovia reflected in its steel sides, as if the realm existed adjacent to this one, just separated in another plane, another time, another fold of space. It seemed likely to try to glimpse it here, in a land that had been in both (or still existed in both?). As he debated in his head slumber stole across him, a weariness that ran too deep for flighty nights to cure. Without even a yawn Iskra drifted off between his curled up limbs, promising himself just a moment to rest his eyes, to clear his head, to untangle his heart. The moment carried on into several, and the boy slept, unaware of the thief that crept up to take his precious item. Only a lone ear flicked at the sound of her approach and departure across the kneeling grass, and easily enough his dream incorporated it, peaceful for the timebeing. I S K R A

@Otem