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Tokaji frowned slightly. His purse was full as he walked back to his village, his venture to sell the bottles of wine his mother had made this past harvest had been successful. The thought of getting the few extra tips from some of the purchases elated him, but it did nothing to quell his loneliness on the long trek home. A little sigh escaped as he remembered telling his mice friends they could not join him this time. That he had planned to fly his way back, and he would not be able to carry them with him in his small form. And, of course, now that he was on his way back home, the wind had picked up and made him feel unsafe in his small form.
He turned his head to keep his bangs from whipping his eyes in the turbulent gusts. It wasn't so much the strength of the wind that annoyed him, as much as it seemed it couldn't make up its mind in which way to blow. It would take stronger wings than his to be able to navigate the twisting and twinning streams of air. Another small sigh escaped as he turned his head a different way to avoid a new gust. His mother had told him if he had ever wanted to go in search of his father, he would need to train his wings. But he had never felt the pull to do so. He enjoyed the work he did with her in her fields of grapevines. It was peaceful, and fulfilling.
It wasn't until this past year they had heard of a gathering place of travelers that may be interested in their brand of wine. Tales of their sweet earthy mixtures had traveled since they started adding in more than just grapes to the process. Maybe with all this time on his journey home, he could try to think of new ingredients to add. To make his mother smile again. A slight grimace flowed over his face as he remembered the longing glances he had started to catch her take of the mountains when she thought he was not watching. She spoke very little of the stallion who had sired him, but he could only guess that was what her eyes saw when she looked over the horizon.
Tokaji lifted his face as he came to a stream. HIs thoughts swimming in wine ingredients, his thoughts muddled and starting to wander. Oh, what use was it to think of wine now. He couldn't tell what would be in season till he got back to the village and went foraging. If only there was something else to think on besides his mother and his mice friends he had left behind. Another gust whipped his bangs straight into his eyes and he bit his lip to stop from yelping. He stopped at the edge of the stream to shake the hair from his eyes, eyes blurred with small tears as he blinked them back and focused back on his surroundings.
That's when he saw the movement across the stream, a veritable rainbow of blacks, blues, and purples. It took him a few moments to realize they were tens of crows flying slowly, swooping in and out of the trees as they flowed in a line. Maybe even hundreds. There seemed a sadness to the procession of crows. Tokaji wasn't quite sure how to explain it, but the slow waving of the line as it weaved in and out of line of trees seemed to be like a banner flowing in the wind. If his heart didn't feel such a ping of sadness for them, he would have noticed jealousy in his heart for their gracefulness in the strong winds.
He stood there, watching the crows fly their dance as they went. His hooves sinking slightly into the riverbed from standing still. Standing mesmerized. He no longer payed attention to the bangs whipping into his eyes, or that small streams of tears had started to flow from them. Soon, the last few crows left his line of sight and he was able to reign his senses back in. Again he noticed his bangs and started to wipe his face against the soft feathers of a wing to dry it off. The first being he saw, he would have to tell them about what he had seen. He wanted to know what it possibly could have been. What could have warranted such resigned beauty.
Luckily for him, the first being he met after crossing the stream and traveling for a while was the old crow that some times feasted on grapes that had fallen off the vine at their farm. "Fried!" He called out, getting the crows attention. "The perfect fellow to listen to what I have seen!" Fried quirked a brow as the stallion jonted up to his branch perch and recanted his tale. The stallion's eyes glossy with wonder as he described the line of weaving crows.
Before Tokaji could even finish, Friedhof burst into raucous laughter and took off. His wings carried his sentiments as he dipped into a turning joyful spin in the air. "The old bird has died! That makes me king now!"
Tokaji's brows furrowed in confusion. He wasn't sure he'd ever see the bird again. And if he did, maybe he wouldn't walk up to him so freely. He shook his head, maybe his mother would be able to enlighten him on his return.
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Word Count: 916. Fairy Tale: The King of the Cats
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