Sinclair

+She has a special bike outfitted with treads to accommodate the gravel and dirt she often drives through.
+She patches the holes that the flying debris from riding tear into her coat with thread made from Glacier's shed tundra fur. It's more durable and thicker than other string. Plus, she has a passion for up-cycling. Even the rainbow patch embroidery is made from tundra fur.
+On her bike, she uses her wings to steer more than she uses the actual handlebars.
~
"Ready to go?"
Sinclair nodded to the smaller Tundra beside her, revving her bike. From a distance, they appeared the same size, but closer up it becomes obvious that the Snapper's bike dwarfs the Tundra's smaller vehicle. Regardless, both are weathered and time-tested machines, and before long, both are racing across the desert, thick plumes of dust kicked up by the back of the bikes.

She watches, always.

Petals fall, mountains crumble, oceans dry but there she watches.

She is old, old, old beyond her years, old beyond measure, and she waits, watches, chest barely moving, barely breathing, barely being.

She is ancient and she watches, world-weary eyes slitted against harsh winds, screaming storms, pelting hail.

She endures.

-

Before she settled, she was a traveler.

She sits forgotten in a land of faraway, now, but that wasn't always the case.

She roamed the lands and stalked the plains, searched the forests for a place, a home, a land to return to. Somewhere she could finally stay without feeling discontent, disquiet rattle cold and unsatisfied in her chest.

She never treasured the journey, the memories, the friends made along the way. Never stopped to really look, feel, appreciate.

Until it was all gone.

Until she found the cursed place, among reeds and thorns and broken tangles.

At the time, she hadn't even realized.

At the time, she'd never even known.

She'd only meant to take a break. A small nap, a pause in her world-wide travels that spanned across the globe, the whole of Sorneith an adventure to explore.

By the time she settled, she no longer wanted to anymore.

-

Winds howl, gales roar, she crouches and tries her best to become one with the rattling foliage around her, the hurricane upon her too much, too loud, too much.

She can't breathe.

Every gasp, every inhale, every ounce of air is stolen away by the raging winds, so different from the gentle breeze that used to guide her along on her travels.

Was this punishment? Penace? Peace?

Where do dragons go after they die?

She's not dead yet. But sometimes, she almost wishes she were.

-

Sometimes, dragons walk by her, without ever knowing she's even there.

It's been eras. Eons. Still there she sits, a statue to all who acknowledge her, a being right there not really being at all.

It's a curse, maybe. Somebody must have cursed her, upon her travels. She doesn't know how, or why, but she's cursed. She must be.

(The alternative is that it's her fault, and she doesn't want to face that, can't face that.)

Not ever.

Certainly not now.

-

Empires rise and fall in the space of forever, and suddenly she gasps, inhales a breath, and then she's free again.

She can move again.

She can't believe it.

Trembling wings spread, tentatively flutter, and then-

She shrieks, joyful. She's free. She's free, after all these years, and now-

She can travel, again. See the friends she's been missing for so long. Can-

She stops.

Her friends. Her dear, dear friends.

Who are all now dead.

Dragons don't live forever. Centuries, maybe, but not forever.

But it's been forever.

And she's... alone, now.

She stops, stares down at the ground. Tears are budding, hot and wet and burning and-

She's free, but not really.

She's free, but she'll never be free, not until she can learn to live again.

-

Movement is a blessing.

She stares in awe at how easily her joints slide, her scales ripple, her wings flare. Her tail is free to lash, her eyes free to blink, her teeth free to bare.

She feels wild and alive and she loves it.

Maybe she'll never see her friends again, or ever understand why she was stuck in that hellish limbo for so long. Maybe she'll never know.

But for once, she doesn't care.

And honestly? She's willing to let go.

To move on, because this time when she travels, flies free and unrestrained, she's going to enjoy it.

Because freedom is a blessing that most never even realize they have, and Sinclair was going to cherish every last second of it, all the way up to the end.