By Alexandra Villanueva
Part of the (as-yet-unwritten) Greyfeather Chronicles
Character names/descriptions/origins/favorite type of pie subject to change whenever I damn well feel like
The wind whipped the snowflakes around in all directions, the light ice crystals bobbing and floating away on the slightest breeze. If looked at from an aerial viewpoint, the storm seemed to pulse, the wind alternately gusting and dying down, few flakes ever settling on the ground. It was a snow globe in perpetual motion, eternally agitated.
Gavin stood in the courtyard, the accumulated snow already threatening to pass the tops of his boots. Even from his standpoint the flakes seemed to be alive, all tiny scrabbling limbs of a massive winter monster. He half-turned to glance at his wings. The snow melted nearly as soon as it landed on them, but he liked the effect. It was as if he was becoming a Pure angel again, a "real" angel, one of the ubiquitous white-winged ninnies who flew around doing good d