Dawn broke with a pale gold light spilling across the cliff face, creeping slowly into the mouth of John's new lair. Dust motes stirred where the sunlight touched the stone, drifting lazily in the quiet air.
John was already awake.
He had slept, but lightly — the kind of sleep that restored the body without dulling the mind. The decision he had made the night before had settled into something solid, something unavoidable.
He couldn't stay here forever.
His territory was stable. Safe. Ordered.
And suffocating.
John lifted his head, stretching his neck until joints shifted with a low, grinding pop. His wings followed, unfurling halfway before folding back in, membranes rustling softly against the stone.
"…Time to see what's outside my pond."
The words sounded strange even to him.
