Flight at Sunrise
By Robert Mariner, East Sierra Branch
I awaken, stretch, yawn cavernously. Let’s see — this little nap should have lasted around — oh, about two thousand years or so. I feel a bit hungry, a little thirsty. Wonder how the world outside our cave has changed.
Others in my family are also awakening, grumbling at being disturbed. The tinkle of gold pieces spilling down the sides of the hoard is musical, but that little cascade kicked up a lot of dust — nasty stuff; makes my eyes water and me want to sneeze. Not here! Don’t want to cause a panic, sneezes in here reverberate something fierce, and some of the family might react rather badly to being awakened that way.
I turn invisible, shift location outside of our cave, inhale deeply to catch any vagrant scent.
Ohmigawd, WHAT is that awful stench? The early morning sky is kind of hazy, almost as if there’s been a distant forest fire, but if that’s wood smoke I’m a rock! Smells almost as if one of those tar seeps has dried out and caught fire the way dried-out peat bogs can — oh, this is just horrible!
I unfold my wings, launch off what’s left of the nice ledge that used to be in front of our cave. Too bad erosion has been so bad: even granite wears away over thousands of years.
Dropping, I get enough airspeed to soar out over the valley. Wow, it’s changed! Used to be dense forest, but now the land has been cleared, and big fields have been planted. Well, fields usually mean horses and cattle. Horses are a bit tough, but cattle are pretty tasty, and it takes only one to sate an appetite for quite a while.
What in Heaven’s name are those new trails? I know humans had been cutting paths through the forest, but those were just dirt trails — these things resemble long ribbons of granite. And those vehicles — no draft animals could be pulling them that fast; I guess maybe the humans have come up with machinery to propel them. Well, that had to happen eventually. Guess I’d better keep a sharp lookout in case they’ve built things that fly, too; humans have likely forgotten all about us since last we were out and about. And they’ve probably also developed nastier weapons than they had last time, too. Dangerous little pests, but creative as hell.
Passing over the next ridge I see the river, still a beautiful deep blue — with lots of boats dotting it. Yeah, most of those are powered. What used to be a small town is now a city with lots of tall buildings. Ah — there’s a nice area of green grass with lots of people on it; might as well land there. I do hope they remember the language they used to use — maybe they’ll be willing to communicate.
I land and slowly become visible, hoping that this time they’ll be less afraid of us drakken.
Read more about Robert Mariner at
https://www.smashwords.com/profile/view/RobertM256
and on his website http://therefugeconfederation.com/