Demetrius took one last slow circle of the clearing before deciding he simply wasn’t going to find a place to land preferable to any other on the icy ground. In perfect circumstances, he’d much rather have come in another form but the summons from Jocasta had been most insistent he come immediately.
Landing awkwardly, he scowled as much as a creature with a beak was capable of such. It was not without good reason and considerable contemplation he had decided to take up his self-imposed hermitage and leave behind the ways of the world.
That his former apprentice found it advisable to call him back to that which he so clearly despised and to do so in such dire weather left him chilled beyond what he could blame on the gusting northern wind.
This story was written for the weekly Five Sentence Fiction photo and word prompt: frozen.