Jun 16 2015, 07:46 PM
The bird was still young, though it had learned to fly. It could only do it over short distances, but it was good enough to get away from being food. Of course, he would be the best at flying one day, no doubt about that. For now, he walked a bit, then jumped and flew a few feet, then landed, then walked. You couldn’t really call his walk a walk, though. Even in his early age, he had developed a proud swagger. His crop would puff out and he would hold his body straight. Like this, he could walk with long strides as he tilted his head this way and that, observing with a glare everything around him. His stone’s shape gave his eyes the hooded look of anger, even if he wasn’t angry at all. However, by some luck or stroke of fate, the bird was, almost always angry. Even as he walked, flew, then walked again, he was upset. Why couldn’t he fly better? Why had no one noticed him yet? Why hadn’t anyone called him king? He had decided he wasn’t a king, actually, but a prince. Someone young and charmbirb. That was how it was said, right? Even with that title he needed a name, something strong and dignified. Gertrude. Now he just needed to combine it. Thrusting his head upwards, the bird called out, "I am Prince Charmbirb Gertrude!" "Blah" |