She hated winter. She didn't know why, but she had the feeling that she always hated winter. There were no butterflies. It seemed as though the world went completely silent. Of course, right on her desk written in a large notebook, all of her memories were written down, they told her that she always did it before winter time so that she would still have a memory, even if she couldn't remember. But it felt as though all of her friends had disappeared.
And her back was cold. She was really hating her wings right then. Because they were so huge, her warm clothes kept her front and lower back warm, but where her wings sprouted from was freezing cold, because of their size, no shirt could cover all of her.
But her front was modestly covered by a warm light brown suede shirt, with fur lining every edge that faced outwards. Her lower half was covered by a pair of pants very similar to her shirt, aside from the fact that her pants were dark, almost black, brown. She fluttered her wings experimentally, crossing her arms and looking around the lawn where there should have been butterflies. "It looks so empty." she said to herself, amazed at how quiet her voice was with no ears to hear it.
And her back was cold. She was really hating her wings right then. Because they were so huge, her warm clothes kept her front and lower back warm, but where her wings sprouted from was freezing cold, because of their size, no shirt could cover all of her.
But her front was modestly covered by a warm light brown suede shirt, with fur lining every edge that faced outwards. Her lower half was covered by a pair of pants very similar to her shirt, aside from the fact that her pants were dark, almost black, brown. She fluttered her wings experimentally, crossing her arms and looking around the lawn where there should have been butterflies. "It looks so empty." she said to herself, amazed at how quiet her voice was with no ears to hear it.