Refugee for Freedom

          He tightened the belt around his chest and the bag tied to his waist. He threw a cloak over himself, pocketed some money and drowned his features in shadow with a large hood. He now looked much like any hunchback beggar would, although he despised this hideous façade. At least what he would have to endure in this disguise would be better than what he would endure otherwise. He knew too well of the humans’ incapacity to accept differences.
          He stepped through the door and locked it, securing that it could not be opened.  His small apartment told lies of his financial condition and added to his disguise; the garments he had left inside because they were too large to be concealed by his cloak had great monetary value. Yet, the emotional attachment he held towards his attire made most of it priceless, and he would be utterly incapable of bearing any loss. Unfortunately, he knew, robbery had become a common practice since the time when his Lord reigned, and no care was excessive.
          Across the street from the rectangular heap of stones he made residence in lied another, more majestically built. He stepped through the large entrance and made his way to the ticket counter. The railroad station was the place he frequented where he was the most vulnerable to identification. He feared the harsh and dry sound of his voice and the golden shine of his brown-yellow skin would give away his identity. He picked a single bill of frail green paper from his pockets and handed it over the counter while croaking his desired destination. Rail ticket in hand, he made his way into the train. His public uneasiness grew as the train filled up with people, but coeval did his expectation grow—he was closer to his freedom at every minute.
          Finally he detrained. Although his freedom would be but temporary, he was exhilarated to reach that familiar cliff. As the train set off, he looked around for signs of onlookers and began to strip. He pulled off his cloak and freed his wings from the chest belt. He stepped to the edge of the cliff as he stowed the items in his waist bag. He looked ahead—and jumped. For some hours, until the cliff’s top began to fill with campers, Garuda would enjoy the freedom due to him but removed by the modern days.