An hour into the latest novel on her lap, Ari’s stomach growled. It was still early, but the mess hall would be open, and she was famished despite the morning’s events. It was about time to get the taste of copper from her tongue—with book in tow, Ari made her way out of the Library and down the stone path to the mess. The sun was up along the eastern horizon, and the sky had a slight pink hue beyond. The air was crisp, bird song filling the morning with sound, accompanied by the rustling leaves from the forest adjacent to the base.
Ari listened closely to their chirping, closed her eyes, picked out a few different birds by their unique song—Titmouse, Sorella-Swallow, Bluejay, Silver-Sparrow— and heard the scraping of dried leaves on the pathway before her. The breeze and natural sounds opened her to a higher form of thought and feeling, and she picked up the faint rumblings of the trees. She could not hear exactly what they were saying, as if just out of earshot, no matter how close she got to the source. Perhaps one day she’d be able to hear them. Light danced against her eyelids. She let out a deep, sighing breath, trying to let everything from the past day melt from her thoughts.