Making an Omelet 2

[finch]

This entry is part 13 of 14 in the series StoryADay '12

I had heard stories of the жар-пти́ца, the firebird, since I was small. I had read still more about it when I started researching. Every source described it’s surpassing beauty.

To stand in front of it was still something else altogether.

I continued to feel as if I were on fire, but it seemed increasingly unimportant. The pain faded into the background. The bird cocked her head at me.

“You have no idea what you’ve done, do you?” she asked me.

“What?”

“Still, I should be thankful. You’ve freed me, and you’re a suitable host. Prepare yourself.”

I started to say something else, but there was a feeling like feathers brushing my face, and I fell unconscious.

-

I woke up on the floor of the cave. My trousers were damp. My shirt was dripping with sweat when I sat up. I wasn’t quite sure what had happened, but the pieces of broken jade on the floor suggested I had messed this up pretty badly.

Aside from the obvious, where the thing I’d been looking for was in pieces, I was in Siberia and I’d felt like I was about to freeze to death even before I came in here. The cave was relatively warm, at least. I was tempted to stay there, but I was going to be lucky if I could make it back to the nearest town as it was.

When I went to the mouth of the cave, though, I realized that it wasn’t particularly warm in the cave. I just wasn’t cold. I touched the dry snow, and watched it melt at my touch.

Maybe I had succeeded after all.

Now I just needed to get back to Shanghai and apologize to Lin…

Mirrored from Jack-a-dreams.