You are listening to a Clark's World magazine podcast with your host and narrator Kate Baker.

Greetings Clark's World Citizens. I hope this podcast finds you extraordinarily well.

This is our sixth story for the month of September 2020, issue 168.

Have you liked what you heard all the way up to this one please consider throwing us some support over

at patreon.com forward slash Clark's world where you could be a part of the magazine

each and every month so our story is titled Every Plumage, Every Beak, and is by Nin Harris.

Then Harris is an author, poet, critical theorist, and Gothic scholar who exists in a perpetual state of unheimlich.

Nin writes Gothic fiction, Baroque planetary romances and space operas, mythic fantasies, and various other forms of hyphenated weird fiction.

Ninn's publishing credits include, Clark's World, Strange Horizons, The Dark, beneath ceaseless skies.

Ninn was a 2016 reasoning poetry award nominee and can be found at mythopoeetica.com.

Her most recent stories in Clark's World include August 2017, Reversion, April 2018,

Violets on the Tongue, and March 2019, Dreams Strong Like Pearls Between War and Peace.

So my dear listeners, I hope you can sit back,

Relax, and let me tell you a story.

In a secret saturated forest that nestled between worlds,

sung Dao's people were the tamest of the monsters that terrorized the long nights. It was not just the

Garuda army that frightened the young Kinnari. The watching trees were populated with

tree demons and ventil fanged owl women, who love the sweet flavor of Kenari blood.

Sang Dao's Claude Avian feet scrambled the undergrowth of Salasse, Pagaga, and Don Kissum.

Sound assaulted her as much as fear, the croak of a toad nearly rendered her to tears.

She wanted more than anything to be home in her family's thatched hut that was built where the herbs grew sweet and crumbly soil rich with minerals and worms.

Sung Dow reached the half circle of wooden houses on stilts set up right before the ruins with a sob of relief.

...