Winglet

4 - The Hunters

"So, I have magic powers," said Xavier. "Cool!"

Him and Winglet were in a faraway forest, one that seemed to be kept away from the rest of the cold and wicked world. Winglet despised having to be hidden and felt trapped by his own self, but it was for the greater good and he understood that, at least.

Overtime, Xavier had mastered his magic in the forest. He used trees as victims of his karate-like sorcery. He could slice trunks in half with merely a limp wave of his hand. He could make fronds levitate and hurl branches without even having to lay a fingertip on them. He could make bushes fly and turn upside down, and he could dice grass just by making a snipping gesture with his fingers.

And overtime, Winglet got a little covetous. He desired all the magical powers that Xavier possessed greatly, wanting to be able to chuck brambles and move fallen boughs without having to actually go over to them and perform the actions with his paws. He wanted to be Xavier, the fortunate one who'd been born in the Outside World, the plucky one who'd saved his life and, more importantly, the impressive one with powers beyond compare. Not the little dragon weakling.

Winglet felt like he didn't belong to be friends with Xavier. Winglet was so helpless that he had to live with him just to be able to survive. To him, it seemed like he was using Xavier. He didn't know if he felt that way as well. He hoped he didn't but also did want it to be acknowledged at the very least.

After all, Winglet didn't have powers.
Winglet didn't know how to defend himself.
Winglet didn't know how to get essentials.
Winglet didn't know how to even keep track of his own emotions.

Winglet got up from his small bed. He remembered it being big and comfy for him, being just the right size. He's grown a foot or 2 since so obviously, he's just outgrown it.

He looked at the roof of their tent, and thought about his cottage's old backyard. It used to be where Father Crow would grow food, but it was just abandoned, who knows what it looks like now.

He could remember seeing near the gates gardening supplies, bags of soil, and other tools most likely being lost from rust and overgrown weeds and plants. Everyday, he'd think of these kinds of nostalgic things from when he was younger, hoping it'd at least something to make him feel better, but in the end, he would think what could've been if he hadn't screwed up that one day.

Just listened for a day.

Listened to that one thing.

Listened to Crow Father who was-

"Winglet, I'm back!!" Xavier opened the zipper of their big tent and brought their groceries for the next few weeks. Since both were incapable of getting their own food, Xavier had been using his skills to steal food and other necessities. Sure it was wrong, but what choice did they really have?

"Xavier," said Winglet, his voice a lot deeper than it had been before. That was one thing that differed between him and Xavier: their voices. The most the human boy's tone had changed was that it had grown much more broken due to all the times he would scream at the traders who caught him stealing, and sometimes when he argued with his dragon friend.

"Yes?" Xavier replied, unpacking the sacks of wheat, bread, and rice grains. It had been a while since they had a decent meal, or at least one that wasn't cold cabbage soup or revolting rabbit stew. "What is it?"

"I..." Winglet pushed back a lump in his throat. "I found something."

Xavier looked in Winglet's direction, but  never into those deep red eyes. The human boy's jaw structure had gone from round and plump to defined and thin. Xavier himself had changed greatly, from a chubby piglet to a lanky chap.