The kindly embrace of summer had finally relinquished the land into the gasping cold of Autumn. The sun still lent the days a shining reflection of the recent summer warmth, already feeling left far behind, but the minute a cloud slipped shade overhead, the brittle air reminded one of the impeding darkness.
Ade felt a little frustrated with himself at his surprise at the seasons changing: by all accounts, summer had been about as twice as long as it ought to have been. He had thought he'd taken advantage of it, as well as he could do when his resting pulse was sleeping all day. The long, late evenings and resplendent mornings meant he still got a chance at some daylight, even if he dropped like a stone at ten am pretty reliably. The abrupt arrival of Autumn meant he wouldn't see the sun save in restless sleep, if he woke and staggered to the window, pupils contracting in the light, pallid though it was compared to the days of just a month ago.
The cold was starting to seep into his shoulders, aches worsened in the stiff, stubborn damp. The dull filaments of pain stretched all the way into his tawny wings, stretching and pulling as if they wanted to break away from his body and fly away into the chill air. The contracting changing muscles in the cool made the ill-fitting anatomy even worse, jostling bones and ligaments that were already crowded.
It was lucky that the Isle wasn't strictly diurnal. There were plenty of establishments that stayed open late into the night to cater to citizens who wouldn't or couldn't be around in daylight. It helped. Being able to interact with people made him feel less of a freak. It was an unsubtle word, immature maybe, but it was difficult not to feel like one, fitting so poorly as he did even within his own skin, let alone the rhythms and cycles of society.
He wasn't so bothered by winter, really. The cold wasn't ideal, since it only made his pain worse. He felt it quite readily- he supposed his body expected him to be covered in feathers, whereas they only grew in odd patches at his extremities and at the back of his neck, clumsily taking over where his hair ended. But the cold could be dealt with, and he could start having waking days, although the winter sunlight was so pale it was barely worth waking up for.
It was the way nature woke to the season, with mushrooms springing up, small creatures hurrying to feed before hibernation, birds flying south for the winter...
Ade watched them leave, early evening with bleary eyes from restless sleep, perched on his own roof in a lumpy cloak that draped around his wings and a fluffy grey owl hooting quietly, protesting the hour. She had woken when he had, as much as he tried not to make any noise, and elected to follow him onto the roof. He stroked her head gently with a single, clawed finger as they both watched a trail of geese disappearing into the darkening sky.
