Night Vision

In the interminable darkness of the night, Nesma closed her eyes, took a deep breath and slipped into her other, winged body. Piercing the silence with one long whistle, she spread her now feathered arms and began a slow ascent, leaving behind the cold, hard ground, meeting pockets of warm air, then icy tendrils of left over cloud formations.

She saw the desert floor far below, shadows and deeper shadows marking its terrain like the creases on her other body's old woman face. Here she felt no creeping of age; here she was free; her eyes were clear, able to see into the far corners of the tattered earth she called Mother.

Tonight she had a special reason for soaring; no pleasure-taking. Tonight she would confirm or deny reports from other winged scouts; reports of dire consequences, if true.

She dipped one wing to the left, lifted her right and banked over the valley they'd mentioned. The shadow dark there was broken by faint glimmers. As she swept closer she could see movement; outlined against the fires, she saw two-leggeds, but not of her race. Their faces were not clear and smooth; their headdresses were oddly shaped; their lodges moved and were placed on high boxes.

A dagger of fear and sorrow pierced her heart. It was true then; the end of life for her beloved peoples and their Mother was come.

Sadly, she returned. She was old and ready to go on. She sorrowed for her people, led the keening as they prepared to go. Then, as they turned up the trail leading away from all they had known and loved, she once more took the form, flew up to the highest cliff, the one that led to the sky, and settled in a hollow. One more gaze over her beloved land; a prescient gaze which showed her strange, tall lodges with big power shining like the sun with many of the other two leggeds and hard looking boxes which moved. She folded her wings over her eyes, sighed deeply and let go...her spirit quietly slipped away.