JIGANO
It was disdainful, perhaps, but Jigano had already resigned himself to fight alone against the branches that tried to seize him, to pluck at his feathers and to coil about his claws. Letting out a screech, as if the noise might startle the plants (a foolish and desperate endeavour, it would seem), the Sage twisted this way and that, beak clicking, wings struggling against the snares. Perhaps he might be able to free himself, if he weren’t panicked. Perhaps he might be able to figure out another way to loosen the grip of the hedgerows. Alas, his emotions were in control for now.
So when the prodigal son himself came (apparently) to his rescue, he did not immediately cease his flapping about. How was he to know that the unlucky Launceleyn had not simply come to finish the job? But the pocketknife and the hands attempting to cut at the vines pricked at the raven’s intellect. Though his heart still beat frantically in his chest, he stilled himself, trying not to hinder the other man’s attempts at rescue. Thank you.
So when the prodigal son himself came (apparently) to his rescue, he did not immediately cease his flapping about. How was he to know that the unlucky Launceleyn had not simply come to finish the job? But the pocketknife and the hands attempting to cut at the vines pricked at the raven’s intellect. Though his heart still beat frantically in his chest, he stilled himself, trying not to hinder the other man’s attempts at rescue. Thank you.
