Did this as a writing exercise! Enjoy!
Claymore the bluebird angrily stormed along the steep river shore, the shiny pair of shoes his mom had just bought getting covered in a thick layer of grungy mud. The wind blowing through his silky feathers was picking up quick, threatening with a heavier storm soon-approaching. Claymore would shift his furrowed gaze to the ugly-gray sky and surely enough, the cold autumn rain would soon botch his neat tuft of hair. He shook off the droplets and picked up his pace, his fist clenching, his voice quaking impatiently.
"DAFFODILE!" he would shout, but his friend would not answer. Claymore looked around, finding himself all alone after all. Still, he'd go on; "I WANT YOU OUT NOW. WHERE ARE YOU, DAFFO-" before he could finish, the boy found his thin leg slipping along the steep slope, the wet grass not aiding him in his recovery.
Before he could even think to take flight, Claymore's little body was submerged under the raging river, heavy water soaking itself into his feathers, pulling him down, fighting him brutally in an unfair match of boy versus nature. Claymore's first thought was to call for his mom, or maybe his dad, or anybody who would recognize the importance of this wealthy boy's life, but the river would continue to thrash him as it would a half-decayed poor man's shoe. Besides, Claymore hadn't a chance to open his mouth to scream, as every time he tried another surge of sandy river water would fill his little lungs. Breaths became tighter, vision became blurrier, until a wave of monstrous size covered Claymore completely. It was the last thing he saw of that storm.
After an uncertainly long period of time Claymore found himself slowly getting back to his senses. Tiny, wet pebbles were uncomfortably pushing into his back, a light breeze could be felt through the many holes of his clothes, now turned rags, and an overly bright sensation warmed his face. Claymore opened his eyes to the sun beaming, the rain now gone, and the river quiet, paying him no mind. Sharp waves of pain shot through his hollow bones when he tried to sit up, so he did not. He lay there looking at the clear sky with a newly-found, awe-inspired grow in his eye. His breathing settled and he slowly put his hands on his chest, quietly thinking to himself, no longer having any desire to scream or rush anywhere.
Claymore now felt fearfully humbled and in awe at his insignificance in comparison to the big, beautifully powerful world which he has always inhabited, but was previously blind to.
