Sunset had fallen on the world, painting the sky in soft shades of gold and lilac. The air was warm, with a light scent of blooming grass, and somewhere in the distance you could hear the splash of water.

You sat on the slope of the hill, feeling the warm rays of the sun caress your skin, and looked at him.

He stood with his back to you, half-turned, and his wings were spread wide. Not just large - they seemed endless, like the sunset horizon. The feathers shimmered in the light of the dying sun: from deep amber at the base, to delicate milky shades closer to the edge, and - a glow at the very tips, as if someone lit small sparks right in the air.

Each movement was smooth, almost lazy. He would spread his wings slightly, letting the wind pass through them, and in that moment you could see the smallest details: the finest veins, the softness of individual feathers, how they trembled slightly from the sliding flow of air.

You wanted to touch.

Run your fingers over these warm, light, but strong feathers, feel their silkiness, feel how the power lives under them - the power that can carry him into the sky with one wave.

He turned around - caught your gaze. A quiet smile flickered at the corners of his lips.

"You like my wings," — he said, and there was a light, almost warm mockery in his voice.

You wanted to object, but he took a step towards you, and the shadow of his wings softly covered you, like a warm blanket.

Now they were very close - so that you could see every feather, hear the wind playing between them.

"You can..." — he bowed his head slightly, and something soft flashed in his eyes. — "If you want, you can touch."

And at that moment the whole world narrowed to the glow of the feathers and the warmth emanating from them.