Role

Chapter 2

Mother had a thing for strength. It intoxicated her. Every day, as she paraded
around the square in Ayr'Trinil, her colorful plumage announcing her wealthy
station, she saw him. She lived for seeing the tall, brooding guard with dark
mahogany feathers. Her knees would go weak as he paced the square. She dreamed
of his crimson eyes piercing into her own, his dark claws holding her, to be
under his spell.

Father was a fierce fighter and guard to the Queen. He had a weakness for
attention, particularly the attention of beauty. It intoxicated him. Every day,
as he paced the square, he looked forward to passing the colorful beauty with
the brilliant feathers. He could swim in the sweet perfume that surrounded her
and dreamt of being close to her.

It was forbidden. It could never be. They could never be.

For nearly a year they managed to conceal their meetings and then she went into
hiding. To the public, a mysterious "sickness" kept her house-bound. To those in
the know, however

Father continued his rounds, his features betraying his dismal mood.

Mother was determined to raise the little one, her little Ween, and defied both
convention and custom. He was different, after all, already as tall as others
years older. He would be a champion. Rules were for others, for the unworthy.

It did not take long to see that she was entirely unmatched for motherhood. The
once-quiet looks of disdain and judgment she weathered had now become blatant
shunning. It had become crystal clear that she would not be allowed this victory.

And so came the accident. Wrapped tightly in deep blue blankets, she took Ween
to the rim of the canyon. Lo, and behold, but a sudden gust launched Ween from
her grasp. He tumbled and fell to the bottom of the canyon, out of sight into
the waters below.

Mother was inconsolable. She had lost her most precious gift.

Ah, well. Back to shopping and back to parading the square. She had missed it
so much. She was welcomed back with open wings.