(Little preface: the main characters are winged humanoids, living in a world and time that is roughly equivalent, technologically, to the mid 1800's. Jared has lost a wing, and therefore can't migrate with the rest of his kind.)
He’d made it. He’d survived the winter and some how came out the other side. Jared pulled his arm in and pressed his palm to his mouth, tasted the cold and the wet. He felt it hang on his tongue and beard, drip down to his bare sternum.
They would be home soon, the flock. He laughed aloud and startled the titmouse out the window again, and he kept laughing until he was short of breath.
Wow. That was a little embarrassing. But dammit, I will finish this thing some day. Just to prove I can. I'm not tagging anyone, but if you want to take a stab at it, DO EEET.