Dawn peered over the distant mountains. All along the crevices in the rough cliffs, countless eyes peered towards the east, as if to glean the morning's news from the sun.
Minutes passed and talons grew impatient on the stone. What if the call did not come? What if the waiting figures were meant to remain, wings folded and battlelust unquenched? The thought drew a restless rustle of feathers from the captain, the jewel of her rank mirroring the glint of impatience in her eyes.
But at last it came: a thin spiral of smoke in the distant light of morning. At once Krivuu raised the billowing red flag, piercing the dawn's silence with ten sharp, quick cries. All around, the cliff came to life with thundering wings, and with a cry of her own, Phaviren leapt into the brightening sky.
Acrylic on illustration board, 11X14 inches