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                                        Chapter 872 A Burning Memory, Part 5
                                
                                                                                        
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... and over the bumps and ridges of couches, gliding behind the window drapes as a whizzing splotch of light bleeding through the thick fabric.
The flame bird was kinda like a housefly. A cuter, less rage-inducing house fly buzzing past your ears and in the corner of your eyes - flying wild and whimsical.
I suppose there are just some traits that stick with you through childhood and beyond.
"The little hatchling bird with a human father. She's actually a silver-winged Silian ...
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