They shook all that thought out of their head. They'd consider that once they knew it was reality, and not a moment before. It didn't make sense, and they weren't fond of the idea anyhow.
Cecil got to their feet. Paws. It was just as disorienting as they thought it'd be. They tried to throw out an arm to steady themself, on instinct, and skidded into an awkward bow in the snow instead. The shape of the head was different, so the eyes weren't set quite the same way, and that didn't make much sense to their scrambled brain either.
But they'd been out an arm before (this wasn't their first time taking a tumble from horseback) and with a little care they picked themself back up and took stock. Four legs, all of which seemed to work as they should, much as they could tell. A tail. Two pointed ears- well, they couldn't see those but could feel them.
What they could see of their new coat when they craned their head back was a dozen different shades of desert brown.
Also, there was a crow. A pretty crow, with speckled black-and-white feathers, staring directly at them.
It tilted its head and croaked.
Cecil carefully turned themself in a circle so they were facing each other. They could smell it- the musty smell of a feather when you put your nose up to it, but just as potent at this distance and with a lot of sharper less pleasant notes. And then there was the snow, the water, the pine trees, something distinctly like wet dog - that might have been them. They felt pretty damp.
The headache chose that moment to jab more sharply right above their eye.
Cecil winced.
"Yá'át'ééh," they said to the bird, and were surprised to find their breath shape the sounds like they were still in the right body. Huh. They tried English next- was more likely to work. "Don't suppose you could tell me where I am?"
Wasn't out of the realm of possibility that a bird could speak if they could, right?
Cecil got to their feet. Paws. It was just as disorienting as they thought it'd be. They tried to throw out an arm to steady themself, on instinct, and skidded into an awkward bow in the snow instead. The shape of the head was different, so the eyes weren't set quite the same way, and that didn't make much sense to their scrambled brain either.
But they'd been out an arm before (this wasn't their first time taking a tumble from horseback) and with a little care they picked themself back up and took stock. Four legs, all of which seemed to work as they should, much as they could tell. A tail. Two pointed ears- well, they couldn't see those but could feel them.
What they could see of their new coat when they craned their head back was a dozen different shades of desert brown.
Also, there was a crow. A pretty crow, with speckled black-and-white feathers, staring directly at them.
It tilted its head and croaked.
Cecil carefully turned themself in a circle so they were facing each other. They could smell it- the musty smell of a feather when you put your nose up to it, but just as potent at this distance and with a lot of sharper less pleasant notes. And then there was the snow, the water, the pine trees, something distinctly like wet dog - that might have been them. They felt pretty damp.
The headache chose that moment to jab more sharply right above their eye.
Cecil winced.
"Yá'át'ééh," they said to the bird, and were surprised to find their breath shape the sounds like they were still in the right body. Huh. They tried English next- was more likely to work. "Don't suppose you could tell me where I am?"
Wasn't out of the realm of possibility that a bird could speak if they could, right?
english | navajo