Heron Lake Plateau the intermittent shuttering of shadow

Kite has eyeballs. Open to anyone allowed near the den.

Raven and Quixote’s pale fledgling blinked open her eyes fully for the first time on day twelve. Over the past twenty-four hours, slivers of baby blue had cracked through the veiled seal of her nascent gaze, and now she turned her bobbling head — with no small measure of effort! — to stare blindly at the nearest light source.

The intermittent shuttering of shadow fascinated her, and she began moving toward it, drawn to the blur of light and color like a flower to the sun. With soft grunts of determination, she worked her forepaws; her typical “gait” was slow and painstaking at this stage, with each wildly quivering limb moving in an exaggerated circle like the paddle of a canoe. Right paw. Stroke. Place. Left paw. Stroke. Place. The trembling of her tiny shoulders as she pulled herself forward with fluttering kicks of her hind limbs was unnatural and odd — but it was all Kite had ever known.

Peeping all the while, she wormed her way toward the light, burbling delightedly.