(This is the first installment in my new feature “317”, in which each piece is exactly 317-words long. Visit the 317 page to find out why I chose this number.)
She shifted her body beneath her leather wings and tried to ignore the late-afternoon sun shining through the leaves and onto her closed eyelids. The previous night had been tedious and draining, and her sleep all day had not yet fully recovered her. How those men with rifles had found her home in the branches of this tree, she did not know, but she was sure that none would find it again. She had rid those men of options for further spreading news of her.
Far away she heard a scurrying coming toward her and opened her eyes. She had silenced the men, but hadn’t had anything from them to drink, and she was thirsty. It was not often she went a whole night without filling her veins.
She yawned and stretched open her wings that extended far past the branches on either side. The copper edges lining the leather gleamed in the direct sunlight. Copper-leather wings. They were her greatest beauty.