ELITA: metamorphosis

3.

The humongous bird was already watching her approach. Elita thought it must have sensed her long before it could see her. She got the impression it was waiting.

Its large head and neck were extended upwards, brown patterned feathers ruffled at the neck; its four legs curled underneath it. Its right wing was soaked with purple liquid. Blood, she assumed.

It stayed still as she entered the open space. The creature was lucky it didn't get impaled on one of the many trees it broke. She stopped when it had a clear view of her and she held out her hands in a calming manner, to show she meant no harm.

It analysed her with golden hawk-like eyes. Nothing in its movements or posture struck her as threatening, yet. And then slowly, it bowed its head, its eyes not leaving her as it lay flat against the ground.

It submitted. Elita took that as a sign to step forward, closer, and closer. Cautiously, she reached her hand out. . and placed it onto its beak, the tip of it sharp and curved. The smooth surface was littered with indents and scuffs, and curved lines from tip to end. She wondered if it was an indication of its age, like rings on a tree. Its nostrils were bigger than her palm—head easily twice the size of her, same as its wings. A peaceful, tranquil, feeling washed over her as she stroked the surface of its beak. It was silent other than its laboured breathing and the pounding of her heartbeat in her ears.

"Hello," she greeted shakily. She wasn't scared exactly. It was hard to pinpoint what she was feeling with so many emotions flying about. Unworthy—to name one of them. The creature was the most majestic thing she'd ever seen, and she did not feel deserving to be in its presence, let alone touch it. With that thought, Elita snatched her hand back. "I'm here to help you," she says as if it could understand her.

Her eyes darted to the bleeding limb. The wing was pulled tight against its body, and she was too short to reach it from the ground. Nervously she realised that to help it. . she would have to climb onto it.

The creature continued to watch her where it rested its head.

Elita knelt, placing her bag on the floor once again. She laid out the bandages and numbing cream on the ground, along with a rag, some water, and a healing salve. She threw the bag gently into the foliage behind her, the poison elixir and what was left of her narcotics going with it, swiftly followed by her bow and quiver.

She was now unarmed.

"I won't hurt you," she told it firmly, keeping herself small as she peered up into its eyes. El wanted it to see just how harmless she was. "These things will help you," she touched each item gently. "It might sting but. . .I would like to tend to your injury. If you'll let me."

It might have seemed silly talking to an animal, but she sensed it was smarter than most. That it understood her in a way.

And she was right. The creature shifted its left-wing, stretching it towards the ground, creating a makeshift ramp for her. The movement made her jump initially, not having expected it, but she quickly settled herself with deep, calming breaths.

"Ok," El nodded to herself and had a moment to process what she was about to do before gathering the items and shoving them into the deep pockets of her tunic.

She stood, ignoring how her legs shook, and headed round the side of the strange, four-legged bird.

It didn't lift its head, which she found odd. It seemed to be putting an awful lot of trust in her. She wondered if it could somehow sense her intentions. Or if it knew she was it's only chance of getting help.

Elita crawled onto the wing on her hands and knees. The feathers were silky soft against her skin. When she reached its back, she found herself rising with every breath it took. She couldn't help but brush her fingers through the fur on its body, so different to the feathers on his neck and wings. It was like two animals merged into one. It was clearly taken care of, its fur healthy and glossy. The bird gave a soft snort in response to her affection. She smiled.