|Beautiful soft feathers, purple through pink, orange and the sunniest, creamiest yellow dazzle in the soft light of dusk as the Pteri's tail fans out. It's a marvel, captivating. But from behind the wing, instead of the curved elegant face and beak the stranger expects, the bird's skull is exposed and an eerie, sickly green, piercing eyes unnaturally alert in the sunken sockets.
How did- the stranger begins, but a significant look from the small green tentacle quiets the question.
Snowager, the Pteri said matter-of-factly, proving her hearing as keen as any other bird's. The stranger wants to enquire further, but gets the distinct impression that more questions would not be welcome.
The Snowager is just one of many answers to the question Penelopie has given; accident, born that way, Jhudora, fire, curse, tragic spa accident. The answer is never the same, and the little sentient green tentacle sometimes wonders if his charge has forgotten herself how it happened.
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