((warning: bad grammar, bad speling, bad Dan, BAD))
It was an odd adjustment, considering that Thoran had spent the first 38 years of his lifetime without wings, and considering the size of them. His wingspan was wider than his 6' of height. The skin on his wings was the same color as the rest of his caucasion flesh, and they folded over several times, if needed, and they were almost indetectable under a heavy cloak. Thoran imagined that they'd be a bit harder to hide once it was too warm to wear a winter cloak without being conspicuous. Sleeping on them was a bit difficult, as well. Thoran had previously grown accustomed to sleeping on his back, which was now impossible without putting his wings to sleep. He now needed to sleep on his stomach, and the only way to *really* get comfortable was with his wings unfolded and draped beside him. However, he didn't sleep much these days anyway--three to four hours a week at the most. He let out a quiet sigh as he reached the top of the tree, shirtless, his wings neatly tucked behind his shoulder blades. The cold December air nipped at him slightly, but he paid it no mind as he climbed to the highest branch. A paralyzing fear seized him. He was afraid, not of whether or not he would fall and injur himself, but what if he were to fail? Although he had never flown before, Thoran could not imagine living the rest of his life flightless for some reason. That in itself was remarkably odd. But such was the way of things these days. Feelings of unexplained familiarity were commonplace. -- To unsubscribe from this group, send an email to: [EMAIL PROTECTED] Archives & Other DMI Lists: http://www.dragonmyst.f2s.com/lists.php3
