Winglet

7 - The Pixie Bite

Winglet flew through the air. He wasn't sure where he was planning to go, nor did he know where he was going. The night was too dark.

Winglet, even though he was flying for the first time, was still having extensive trouble. The hard rain pouring on him made his wings hurt with each flap, and it made his flying unstable.

He worried he wouldn't be able to get home, or get anywhere. His breathing got shaky as the rain and wind froze him in the air. He soon couldn't focus on what he was doing, his surroundings slowly becoming a blur. The rain was getting more violent with increasing wind speeds.

Winglet felt so cold. So alone.

Further away in the woods below him, he saw a faint light. Even if it was small, it was a drastic contrast to the dark.

Winglet dipped into the trees. He wasn't sure what he was going to do, since they'd most likely not be so kind to a dragon whoever they were, but he was in dire need of help.

But part of him hoped for it to be Father Crow.
Winglet drew himself closer to the light, shaking with every step he took. He thought he heard a rustle in the bushes and flinched.

This was a terrible idea, he thought. I should've never left Xavier and Olivia. I should've stayed and kept warm by the mine fire. I should've, but I didn't. And now I'm stranded.

He inched closer, his eyes narrowing past the trees. Before he could stop himself, he accidentally cracked a twig on the ground. The sound echoed through the darkness, leaving nothing but the noisy thudding of his heart in his chest. A shadow appeared on the ground, tall and swaying. Winglet fell backwards, hitting the floor with a tiny thump.
He tried to muffle his breathing but it was a lost cause. The figure was already slumping towards him.

It stepped out of the wood and into sight. Winglet lifted his eyes and gasped. He shuddered where he lay, awaiting the tip of a spear to pierce through him. But there was no tip, no spear, no piercing. But instead, the comfort of two embracing arms as Winglet was brought up by the figure and held tight in its warmth.

Winglet stared. Why is this human hugging me?
He got his answer when the figure unveiled itself. Emerging from the shadows of his hood was Crow Father, smiling wanly. Tears seemed to stain the folds of his eyes. His hair was unkempt and his clothes were grimy.

"F-Father Crow?" Winglet asked.

Father Crow nodded, then brought a bony finger to his lips.

Winglet stared at him, dumbfounded. Then he heard it.

Father crow muttered under his breath, of which Winglet couldn't hear. He motioned Winglet to follow him quickly, then running unnaturally silent. Winglet, though knowing all of his other attempts at haste ended, also ran while following him.

While Winglet ran through the bushes and crushed the leaves under himself, he was confounded with every step.

How hadn't he been making any sound while doing it all?

Winglet slowly and eventually caught up with Father Crow, catching a small gance of him...

What was that?

Father Crow looked down at Winglet, to realise he was even that close to him. He instantly picked up his speed, despite how tired and perspiring he looked. Winglet lost his momentum quicker than he could run, however, and slowed down while trying to reach for Crow Father's long coat to tell him, somehow.

Winglet couldn't take all of this physical exhaustion forever. He had ran more than four times that day, flown under stressful conditions for almost an hour, eaten barely anything, along with barely any rest.
Winglet stumbled over his feet in his struggle to keep up, only falling forward onto the floor.
He could only hope Father Crow had known he did.
The floor felt so comforting. His spinning head begged for stagnancy. Winglet unknowingly fully obliged when he closed his eyes once.