Whisper of birds

ㅤ No human could run faster than a bird fly, but Ivar was trying hard to surpass his body's limitations. The urgent situation demanded diligence: the inexperienced fledgling, who had only recently learned to fly, had paid for the prank it had played on sinful humans. Ivar couldn't blame it on its filthy desire, but he was definitely going to scold it for its carelessness. If only he could make it in time… But in the place where the bird had led him, there were no angry people. Only a beautiful lady knelt, mending a small wing, calmly lamenting: "What are you doing? You can't commit such vile acts without cover." Her… boundless kindness was so expressive that Ivar couldn't take his eyes off her. He didn't even notice her branching, light-colored horns. The headband itself was hidden under her hair, so it was as if it weren't there. And her dress… as if woven from opaque water, gracefully accentuated every curve… of her virtue. A shiver of primal… admiration ran through Ivar's body. The girl touched his heart so much with her appearance and her concern for the chick that he touched his chest, from which his heart was ready to leap. "No need for excuses," she replied to the incoherent chirping with a slight smile. 'She understands animals too?' Ivar was so surprised that even the obsession receded, adding sobriety to his mind intoxicated with emotions. With a clear thought, he seemed to return to mortal earth—the woman had noticed him. "Uh… Hello…" He couldn't think of anything intelligent to say. "They called me for help, and there's no need to help anymore…" He struggled to regain his composure. In confirmation, the bird above Ivar chirped excitedly and flew toward the chick. "Greetings, traveler," the girl said good-naturedly. "You understand animals too?" she asked curiously. "Aha! A rare gift!" he said proudly. "Not so rare among the children of the Frostmoon spirit." With one phrase, the woman cooled Ivar's ardor. Not only by belittling his specialness, but also… "Isn't Luna dead? Doesn't she know?" The concern in his gaze was so clear that it didn't take a mind reader to read it. "Our respect extends beyond the human understanding of life and death. The blessing of the Frost Moon spirit still flows in the veins of her children," she explained without doubt or sadness. "Even in her distant descendants," she hinted at Ivar's connection to their clan, hidden from everyone, preserving their distinctive traditions. "I am Lauma, Moonchanter of the Frostmoon spirit." "Funny," Ivar said, appreciating the irony without enthusiasm. "I am handmaid of Lady Maxwell, Ivar." "Indeed, it is interesting," Lauma agreed with a soft smile. The meeting grew more magical, and the bond grew stronger. At some point, Ivar stopped believing that everything was happening in reality: it seemed more like a bizarre dream. A maiden of a fallen high spirit? Luna had once been on par with Maxwell, keeping aloof from all spirits, blessing all people with her pale light, making no distinction between her "children" and mere mortals. She was the embodiment of kindness and romance. Her love for people was her undoing… Lauma invited Ivar to sit next to her with a glance: they had much to talk about, discussing old legends and their connection with reality. The chick continued to bask in the woman's lap, listening to educational stories. The bird fed it an insect it had caught mid-flight and joined its youngling, settling down next to it. To the soothing voice of the Moonchanter and the sometimes overly emotional voice of the handmaid, the birds soon fell asleep, having found two temporary hosts at once, slowly binding their hearts with an invisible thread. Story after story, day after day… ㅤ