Bowman couldn’t sleep, and usually when he couldn’t sleep, that meant his wings twitched and he tossed and turned for hours before giving in. Tonight, he wasn’t going to do that. He lay in his bed and almost glared at his window and the serene light that broke through it. The moon cast its cool, sharp glow upon the village of Wellwood in shining bars that mimicked the golden light of its sky sibling.
Moonlight might not be quite as refreshing as the sunlight, but Bowman knew that flying through it was just as peaceful, just as liberating.
He sat up in his bed, the oval-shaped basin in his room, and stretched his wings carefully. Why deny himself a little flying just because his aunt and uncle told him it was too dangerous to go out at night? Their warnings had never been frightening enough to keep him from it. He had to practice to be the best in the village one day, after all.