A storm brews to the east, the leaves blow & the swallows swoop; it is a day that smells of rain & high adventure.
The children stand brave, the elder the hero-protector. The littlest the sidekick, steady & true, gazing, adoring, at his brother. Swallow wings sprout from their backs, poised to give them safe passage. The swallow migrates, but no matter how far it roams, it always returns home; the brothers are an anchor to each other, always. Family.
The wind is in their nostrils; the wild lands lay at their feet, ready. They face the future quest, holding hands to steady each other, bright with possibility.
The wings sparkle in the late afternoon storm-light, the figures shift between worlds, the leaves & swallows become the decals on their walls, the rain begins to fall, & the mother calls dinner.
Warm smells, warm hearts, home.