Coda 2

A bird that could be cupped comfortably in a hand perches on a sun-baked windowsill. It has a plump, rose-coloured breast, slanting black and white stripes on the tail, a yellow beak. It cocks its head into the cool, dark room. On the bed there are two figures curled, pale and dark, around each other into one shape like a cerith shell. They are still, their breaths passing, and sometimes falling together. Sea-breezes send the scents of salt, cinnamon and turmeric folding in. The bird pecks at the windowsill, and, finding nothing, lifts its wings and bobs out onto little ridges of air. It rises, and below it the red roof becomes many red roofs, and turrets, and as it tilts, there are long perfect rows of vines, and hills, and the sea.

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Thanks so much to everyone for reading! Do let me know what you thought. Here's my tune to go out on: watch?v=yiiJ_Zy50Fs

(The beautiful Mechanical Bride's 'Colour of Fire', which I found AFTER writing all this – it has an uncanny hint of wolfiness)

If you read this one first, my other story 'Little Bird' is the longer, more lyrical version of this story, all from Sansa's point of view.

Happy reading and huge thanks for the reviews. They absolutely make my day.

SFx