Lost Magic of the Pegasi

Clemente had been waiting for this night for almost fifty years. He was ninety-two years old. His body ached with every step toward the cliff on the edge of this isolated prison island. The cold night breeze and light rain pushed the pain deep into his bones. He pulled his winter cloak around his body and walked with determination of his will when his body wanted to stop. He stopped and coughed for over a minute, and his aging legs tried to give way. But he breathed as deeply as he could and considered the importance of his role in the events to come. His feet continued up the hill until he finally reached the edge of the high cliff. Clemente sat on a large stone and tried to gather his energy. He looked out over the vast sea below, a dark rolling mass in the storm. The light of both moons was mostly obscured by the clouds, but he knew that eyes keener than his own could navigate even on a night like this. The lives of many depended on his failing health and a young creature he had never met.

He began to extend his mind into the air with eighty years of practice. The distance from the mind he wanted to contact was greater than he had ever attempted before. The old man sat for more than an hour searching for an unfamiliar mind. His body was almost frozen from the cold, incessant rain. Almost unconscious, the old priest felt a presence. She was young, weaned only a few months earlier. But the mind seemed docile and malleable. She was close. The rain muffled the sounds. He took off his hood to take advantage of his remaining poor hearing. His long white hair became soaked in a matter of minutes. His beardless face felt frozen. His hope of surviving the night faded. Finally, he heard the sound of large wings approaching.

She did not have a proper name. The two-legged animals gave her a name when they spoke of her. Little Feather, the bipeds called her. A thoughtless name. Of course, her feathers were small, she was only twenty years old. If her feathers were bigger and her fur thicker, she would not be so cold. A mind had touched hers in the night. A mind far from the stone nest the bipeds had built for her and her family. The flight was difficult due to the rain and the cold. But she had flown quickly over the sea due to the strong urge of the mind. In the distance, her eyes could see one of the bipedal animals sitting on the ground high above the sea. She landed on a clearer part of the cliff and quickly stopped in a very small space. Her size helped her. A larger Pegasus could not land there. A more experienced mind wuld never have tried. The scent of the animal was difficult to perceive in those conditions, but there was something familiar about the smell.

Clemente spoke to her with his mouth and his mind: You are so beautiful. You have new feathers, the first in your life since your mother stopped feeding you.

He looked at her with his dark eyes, clouded by age.

Clemente spoke gently but firmly: And so strong to fly this distance without stopping on a night like this. And your eyes, as green as the first grasses of spring.

She approached the animal timidly. His words were kinder than most others in the large nest where thousands of them lived. Her nose filled with his scent. She understood why it was familiar. Her thought pierced the mind of the priest like a flaming arrow.