Homecoming

I crouch on the edge of the fountain and stare at my lack of reflection in the silver water. 

“What is it, Shadow?” Jeyt clicks at my shoulder, the sound of their mandibles still strange to my ears. For a time, we could only communicate with vigorous gestures and frustrated sighs.

“Reminiscing.”

They whistle a tone of understanding, though they don't.

I press my fingers to the scar beneath my feathered cloak, all that remains of the bolt meant to claim me, meant to ensure I’d never return home. Only, I am not who I was. This time I’m ready.

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Written for The Prediction. This week’s challenge words were bolt, feather, and mandible.

Photo by Frank Flores on Unsplash