Romans & histoires White Bird

Standing, I make my way to the office that is on board the plane and shut the door behind me, sitting down, I pick up the satellite phone and call my father. "Dimitri." Came the gruff response. "What's happening?" "We have her," I said, I heard the relief in my voice. "Is it her?" He asked, double-checking what I had said. "Yes, it's the White Dove, she is coming home," I said, a sigh of relief left my father’s lips. "How is she?" "Not good." I sigh. "What do you mean, not good?" He asked, and I noted the change in his voice.

It's none of his business. Before I could open my mouth to answer him, a chippy sound coming from neither Blake and I is heard. Turning my head to the left, I see the most exquisite being ever! The different colors of white, pink, yellow, black, orange, dark blue and others which blend in together so perfectly are all on the bird. It has a short multicolored tail and a long orange beak that compliments its black eyes with brown circles on them.

A bird's shriek, full of savage, murderous malice, tore through the sky. In the sea of fire, a strange bird the size of a pheasant soared up the sky looming with dark clouds. The bird looked like a Red-crowned Crane, but had only one leg. Its body was blue with red speckles, its beak white and its crest flaming crimson like blood.

She stood there, stiff and unmoving. The snow began to fall harder, blurring the world into a blinding sheet of white. I couldn't stand to look at her for another second. I turned around and walked away. The sudden movement must have startled the birds nearby, because one of them flapped its wings and flew off. The remaining one stood alone in the snow, lowering its head to preen its feathers. The sunlight washed over it, brilliant and bright. Then, it looked up, let out a sharp cry, and took off into a completely different sky.

I muttered to myself, trying to fight the fear that was slowly creeping into my heart. As I drove, a shrill chirping caught my attention. Sticking my head outside the window of my car to check, I noticed a flock of birds following my car. Their cries seemed almost frantic, as if they were trying to warn me of something and it was strange to see white birds at this time of the night.

The fur that adorned my wolf's form was not just any color—it was a pure, pristine white. Whispers rippled through the pack, carried on the wind like a sacred secret revealed. The legend of the white wolf echoed in their murmurs, a tale passed down through generations. It was said that a white wolf possessed a unique power, a healing ability that transcended the bounds of ordinary werewolves. They were believed to be chosen, destined to bring solace and aid to those in need.

I said standing up. "Oh my god! Liam look there!" She said hushed pointing behind me. We saw a dozens of Scarlet macaws flying between the trees. The bird's feather is mostly scarlet , but the rump and tail-covert are light blue, the greater upper wing are yellow, the upper sides of the flight feathers of the wings are dark blue as are the ends of the tail feathers, and the undersides of the wing and tail are dark red with metallic gold iridescence. Some other has green in the wings. It gave a high squeak fluttering it's feathers and flying freely. It looked beautiful.

Estella replied back changing the topic. “Indeed, and they are called birds of heaven. The ones which are red in color. And those, the blue ones, they are always in a pair, and they are called birds of soul.” Valor said explaining Estella about those birds, and continued with a question, “Haven’t you ever seen them, Estella? Or Don’t tell me, you just see the animals which you hunt!!” He raised his eyebrows and earned a hard glare from her side. She punched his forearm softly warning,

Reginald looked at her. Ben and Doctor Phillips stood behind them, their mouths twitching, unable to say a word. They swore they truly had no idea Mr. Wordsworth would choose these kinds of “pets.” Heloise turned her pale face toward Reginald. After confirming he wasn’t joking, she asked, “You’re calling a raptor a pet?” Wasn’t an eagle a highly aggressive wild predator? “They said they had to be gentle ones,” Reginald replied. “So I looked for a long time before I picked a white one.”

Suddenly I heard, "Wheee-aw! a bird sound. "what's a bird doing in this God's forsaken place." I tried my best to get rid of my blurry vision but I could not. I peer harder through the darkness and I saw someone lying in the middle of the dark storm with a bird close to it. The bird was rubbing its small feathered head on him. with the speed of lightning I crawl faster to the place "Dylan, thank goodness!" I said with excitement. the excruciating pain seems to not bother me anymore. I moved him and place him on my back, The bird flew and stood in front of me. "Wheee-aw!, wheee-aw!!, whee-aw!!!," it makes a consistent sound nonstop.