The most discomfort of it now was being held by a stranger, of the uncertainty of what was to come, and the reliance on others for help and food when for so long it had simply been her and Grim, tending to themselves and growing ever closer for it.
Before long however, they were settling on an alcove nestled in the rocky cliffs, the waves beating unrelentingly to the base far below.
She could hear it, but did not dare look lest she grow dizzy and topple over the edge, demanding the need for yet another rescue.
She had experienced quite enough of those for the present.
“Thank you,” she acknowledged, the man giving her a quick nod before suddenly swooping away, his task with her finished.
She was startled by his quick departure, but could see his swooping low, back to his task interrupted by assisting two felled beings.
There was beauty in it, to watch from afar, the strength and power in the wings, first splayed wide then pulled close as others dove beneath the waves, cresting a moment later, glittering in the few rays of the sun that broke through the clouds.
The others followed more slowly with Grimult, and she wondered if he was truly such a burden or if they were coaxing information from him as they tarried. She frowned at the thought, wondering suddenly if they could be trusted at all, but finding they had little choice in the matter.
She turned her head, the alcove not an open maw as she had expected, but filled by a wall of wood, intricately carved from what appeared to be driftwood, the only cessation to the design the crease of an obvious door, a long handle in the middle providing access within.
She did not know why it surprised her to see such a thing, but realised that in the few pictures that had been drawn of the ancient dwellings, all were open to the sea below. Had things changed so recently? Or were her books so old that they no longer reflected the world in its present state?
The thought made her nervous, and she took a step forward. Should she knock? It felt woefully impolite to merely push on the door and see if it would admit her, and another concern was that the man who brought her had been mistaken in the dwelling he chose and she would barge in unannounced to a stranger’s home.
Who could easily throw her into the sea below in their efforts to protect their domain.
Better to wait, she decided.
It was not long, and she leaned against the cave wall and watched the sea, birds joining in with their half-kin, so small and delicate in comparison.
She would have liked to have tarried longer, but she was growing colder as the breeze swirled about her, chilling skin already frigid from the seawater.
She bounced on her toes, willing Grimult to appear more quickly, grateful when at last, he did so.
While her trek had been silent, the expressions on the three faces that settled beside her suggested theirs had not been so, and trepidation filled her that perhaps things were going poorly.
“Well,” the leftmost muttered, and suddenly the door was open, breaking off whatever he meant to say.
“Don’t just stand there, came a voice within. “Come along!”
Another fledgling had been the one to open the door, smaller and obviously female with her wide eyes and golden curls. Her wings were a delicate white tipped with the colour of sand, and she shyly waved them inward. “Papa says,” she reminded them, as if that was the most grave and pressing command that could be given.
Grimult’s escorts excused themselves, flying away with a burst of more cold air that sent a shiver through Penryn. If they had been alone, she did not doubt that Grimult would have held her close, would have allowed them a moment of comfort before proceeding to their next task, but they were both mindful of the small pair of eyes that stared so expectantly, awaiting their cooperation.
Penryn cleared her throat, mustering her courage. She did not know why she felt such great trepidation at entering the dwelling. She could feel the warmth escaping from within, smells of food cooking reaching her nose and promising a hearty meal to her stomach that had known little these last days.
Yet still, she was wary, and she found herself admitting it to the little girl who waved her in with all the grace that Penryn had failed to be born with. “I have never entered a home like yours.” Grimult had to stoop to enter through the doorway, but Penryn managed without it.
The little fledgling looked at her as if her admission was one of the strangest things to have ever met her small ears, before she shrugged and hurried inward.
The space was larger than Penryn had imagined. All the lights came from small lanterns toward the ceiling, providing ambient illumination that countered the hard stone that made up the walls themselves. Rich fabrics had been draped on some, patterns and even landscapes woven into elaborate tapestries, some muted with age, others bright and cheerful as if they had only just been completed.
Cushions were in abundance, some on the floor, others on low, backless benches, the floor covered in thick carpets that only added to the warmth of the space.
There were partitions rather than walls, one of the previous generations evidently skilled with paint and a brush for they were detailed motifs of the view outside, masterfully recreated on the wooden panels that presumably opened to the kitchen.
A woman appeared, her hair a burnished red, her expression revealing that she had not been expecting visitors at all, but her smile was welcoming all the same.
“I beg your pardon for sending the little one to greet you,” she gave as an
