Cooro stood for minutes of indecision. Tom called his name out again. Then, Cooro fled.
He ran to the woods, flapping his wings all of the way but never really rising up. He thought he heard his name called out again when he was not too far into the woods. He turned around halfway with his forefinger to his chin, in hasty thought.
“Now what?” Cooro thought.
He started to sing in a light voice, “Oh, the willow sways; I watch it along my way… Down the river I go. Down the river.”
Cooro’s nerves calmed down somewhat, and he sat on an old tree stump not far away. He did so clumsily because of the new weight on his back. But then, it was… gone.
Cooro didn’t realize it at first as he sung another verse of the song.
His wings had disappeared.
He started to pick at a piece of fungus that grew on the stump. Then, he realized.
Cooro let out a gasp. Then, he looked at his arms, and tried to look at his back.
He saw them, the marks again of the spirals and teardrop shapes alongside them.
Cooro tried to scrub them off like dirt with the palms of his hands, and after the failed attempts, he just poked them while he sat in thought.
“Oh man, I’m not supposed to have a tattoo!” he exclaimed to himself.
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