sons could be birds,
taken broken up to the mountain
taken broken up to the mountain
Truth be told, Nathaniel enjoys the extra height.
He sits up on the roof of his parents' house, well above the street. From here, he can watch the people passing by. Few of them bother to look up at him, though. He is above and away from them, but still a part of them. Nathaniel is better at watching than he is at anything else. He enjoys studying faces without being studied, watching the ebb and flow of the traffic on the street. This is not what he ought to be doing, but he isn't quite grown enough to do what he ought when what he ought involves his parents in any way.
So, he isn't.
He has some extra roofing material nearby, some of it even put into place already to patch the areas most damaged by the Deepfrost snow, but he isn't working very hard at any of it. He is, instead, watching, and enjoying being too far away for anyone to bother.
The next section of roof is near the edge overhanging the street, so he makes his way in that direction gradually. It's only when he gets close he notices buzzing. Or — humming? He doesn't want to call it humming. He knows what it is immediately, and he doesn't want it to be what it is, either.
He edges toward the end of the roof and peers down under the eaves.
And there they are: a whole swarm of insects thrumming along to some song they've made up themselves. Upside down, Nathaniel blinks at them. He hasn't ever encountered this particular problem before. Normally, he encounters the Chorus Bees in the woods and leaves them alone. Normally, he isn't many feet up in the air, at eye level with the whole swarm.
Today isn't going to be a normal day.
He sits up on the roof of his parents' house, well above the street. From here, he can watch the people passing by. Few of them bother to look up at him, though. He is above and away from them, but still a part of them. Nathaniel is better at watching than he is at anything else. He enjoys studying faces without being studied, watching the ebb and flow of the traffic on the street. This is not what he ought to be doing, but he isn't quite grown enough to do what he ought when what he ought involves his parents in any way.
So, he isn't.
He has some extra roofing material nearby, some of it even put into place already to patch the areas most damaged by the Deepfrost snow, but he isn't working very hard at any of it. He is, instead, watching, and enjoying being too far away for anyone to bother.
The next section of roof is near the edge overhanging the street, so he makes his way in that direction gradually. It's only when he gets close he notices buzzing. Or — humming? He doesn't want to call it humming. He knows what it is immediately, and he doesn't want it to be what it is, either.
He edges toward the end of the roof and peers down under the eaves.
And there they are: a whole swarm of insects thrumming along to some song they've made up themselves. Upside down, Nathaniel blinks at them. He hasn't ever encountered this particular problem before. Normally, he encounters the Chorus Bees in the woods and leaves them alone. Normally, he isn't many feet up in the air, at eye level with the whole swarm.
Today isn't going to be a normal day.
