Firefly Ravine The Hypostasis of the Archons

The flock rippled. One, two, then three took off into flight. Their feathers bristled in turns.

Abraham turned too, towards the newcomer. Upstream, a tall youth bent over to drink. He was quiet, but the birds could sense more, and Abraham diligently transcribed their every reaction, a stenographer in a courthouse.

But the last of them peeled off. Abraham pulled himself up, limb by limb, and approached the boy, though they still stood on opposite sides of the river.

Blessed day.