The Bracken Woods zindgani ke safar mein

how old was aditya now? nine years and a couple moons, if one was counting—and he wasn't. multiply that by the seasons. . . 

well, he didn't have to keep track to know. he felt it in the slowing of his gait, the stiffness of his joints. the dark browns and blacks of his agouti pelt, once merely peppered with silver, were now nearly cloaked in moonlight. his shrewd eyes were a little rheumy, running slightly at the corners.

but here he was. alive. still kicking.

picking his way through the bracken woods, cursing under his breath as he navigated the quagmire.

his son, waxwing, had gone off on his own, and while he was loath to leave tytonidae, he knew the woman would be okay. now, he was eager to perhaps find the young man again, and then drop in to see ani at brecheliant.

despite the tough going, his face lit up in a smile at the thought of her. she was the very best of her parents, and too good for this world.

and while he was here—at least it was shelter from the high solstice sun.