Rising Mist

Warm air brushed against my beak. I blinked. My feet gripped the smooth, dark surface beneath me, solid and real. Ahead lay a wide dark dish piled with tangled pale strands, sending faint wisps of vapor into the evening air. I leaned closer, inspecting the nearest loop resting near the glossy rim. With deliberate caution, I tapped the ceramic edge with one claw. A distinct clink resonated through my foot. Alive. Warmth rose against my face, and I stood my ground.