A light rap on the door woke her from her slumber. A small stream of light flowed through her home from outside; the sun had risen. She slid out from her quilt and gently walked to the door. She peered outside to see Doc Jones standing on her porch.

“Good morning, Doc,” she announced as she opened the door.

Doc Jones looked her up and down, then looked at her in the face. “Good morning, Morgana. It looks like the reports of last night were correct.”

Morgana blushed. “Someone saw me hobbling home, did they?” She swung the door wide. “Come on in, I’m sure you want to take a look.” Morgana limped to the chair as Doc Jones walked over and kneeled down to check her ankle.

He carefully unwrapped her bandages. “Nice job on the wrapping. Let’s see.” He surveyed her skin noting some bruising and palpitated a few swollen spots on her ankle. Her responses were subtle winces. “Okay, looks just like a twisted ankle. Rest it for a few days and you’ll be back to a normal stride in no time.”

Morgana smiled at the doc. “Will do. Would you like some tea before you go?”

Doc Jones smiled, then shook is head no. “I have a few more people to see this morning. Illness waits for no one, not even the ol’ doc here.” He stood up and snapped his suspenders. “You rest. I’ll see myself out.”

She nodded and slightly waved as he walked out of her little hovel. On the table by her sat a small notebook and pen. She lowered her head and started to scribble notes of her thoughts from the previous night’s venture into the woods. She wrote a short poem about the doe and the buck and another about the owl’s flight.

She exhausted her creative juices about the night, then started to entertain where she would be in the future. She knew that she would head out for the mountain ridge as soon as she was able to fly once more. She looked forward to the day she could use her wings to soar back up high into the night sky, clearing that ridge, and exploring the world beyond.