Hawk opened his wings, fanning the fully-grown-in flight feathers, and crouched. He beat his wings just above the ground, causing the papers at the table Numair was working at to blow off. Numair caught some of them, and turned just in time to see Hawk shoot up into the air, the downstroke raising a cloud of dust.

Hawk's flight was brief but easy--he arced rather gracefully up and rolled with his wings fanned until he was facing the sun, and then swooped up into its light, becoming a gilded-edged silhouette. As he came back to earth, dropping easily onto his feet, Numair applauded for him, and he laughed. Then he crouched again, taking one of Numair's hands and dropping his wings, inviting Numair to maybe fly with him. Numair declined without hesitation.

The garden bed was full now, and in the evening the many young plants grew quietly.

Teige and Yoshi sat face to face, each with their eyes closed, while Teige spoke.

"...Now envision yourself going soft and fuzzy at the edges," he said. Little licks of green fire began to catch on the surface of his ears and horns and hair, spreading as he continued. "Let yourself unravel just a little bit..."