neonthewrite:

“Oh yeah, he’s amazingly intelligent for something his size. Once you manage to get him talking he actually never shuts up.”

“That’s right, you said he talks,” the man said, an interested gleam in his eyes. He stood up straight again and patted down his shirt. Then, he gestured at the cage. “Do you mind getting him out for me to see?”

neonthewrite:

The newcomer had a certain way about him … there was more confidence in the way he held himself, his hair and face were kept much cleaner, and he didn’t have the tired bags under his eyes that his current human captor always had. His clothes were more complicated than anything the other human wore. Bowman had only ever seen a button up shirt on TV before.

The man turned his head towards the large glass enclosure and a ripple of ice snaked its way up Bowman’s spine. Even though there was no way the humans could see him where he hid, he immediately didn’t like that human.

Not that he liked any human, but this one was more unsettling than usual.

“That where it lives?” he asked, confirming Bowman’s dislike of him. It?!

neonthewrite:

The human took notes and sketches, stretched out Bowman’s wings and other limbs so he could note where the joints were and how they moved. He even learned, without Bowman telling him, that the wings could photosynthesize.

Bowman never opened up about how it all worked. A part of him worried just how far the giant would go for the answers, but other than some uncomfortable sessions with a wing stretched out for sketching and measuring, he wasn’t harmed.

Not on the outside, anyway.

neonthewrite:

When he didn’t get an answer, he tugged harder on the harness. Bowman stumbled backwards in surprise, and one foot landed on air as he reached the edge of the railing.

When he’d learned how to fly, Bowman had moved on to learning all kinds of aerial tricks and acrobatics. He practiced every day, even when he should have been practicing his Prayers more. He gave up finesse with the Earth Spirit’s magic to soar through the air instead. Bowman’s dexterity in flight improved every day from then on.

One of the tricks he’d perfected was correcting a freefall in barely more than an instant. After falling backwards off the railing, his body twisted around almost as though on instinct.

neonthewrite:

Bowman crouched down on the railing to watch the world go by. Without thinking, his hands dropped to the surface beneath him and brushed over the pronounced grain of the dead wood. The railing came from a tree that had long since died for the humans to build their dwellings. It was so different from the way the sprites used trees.

Back home, tucked away in the very center of Wellwood, his home, the village nestled on a stand of pine trees. Each home was shaped out of the wood itself, often with the trunk as support and propped up on a branch. Everything smelled of pine, strong and alive, and the wood grain wasn’t just a side effect. It was part of home and safety.

neonthewrite:

“Bowman, dude, come on out, I’ve got something for ya.” 

Using his actual name was unusual. Bowman narrowed his eyes, unsure if he wanted to come out or force the human to reach in and start moving stuff, like he usually did when he got impatient.

“Come on, Bowman, you’ll like this one, I swear. I think it’d be good for you to get some fresh air outside, and this’ll help,” the human called.

Bowman’s heart fluttered oddly in his chest. He almost didn’t recognize the hopeful longing for what it was. He hadn’t had a reason to hope for any leeway in so long.