After the Fall - Chapter 1

Get up!
I'm not entirely sure where I am, or why I've decided to sleep on the bare ground like this, but my inner instincts are screaming for me to get up, to run, to fight, to do something... I try pulling myself up into a sitting position, a deep, fiery pain radiating throughout my entire side. Reflexively, I draw in a sharp breath, but that nearly knocks me unconscious from the pain alone. Shakily pressing my hand up against the origin of the pain, I take quick, shallow breaths. I try moving my other arm; there isn't a response, just a twitching of my fingers.

Whatever injuries I've sustained are covered up by both my suit of armor and the woolen clothes I wear underneath. Despite seeing several lifetimes' worth of carnage in battle, I must admit I'm anxious to strip down and see the full extent of the damage. At least my wings are intact, I think to myself. If anything had happened to my wings, there really isn't a way for me to get back to my home on the mountains.

I steadily open up my wings, looking down at the shadow created by them. Their shape isn't any different than I remember, but their movement seems... sluggish. Closing my eyes momentarily, I fold them around me, then open my eyes once again, looking at the feathers. The feathers of my inner wings are the same cream color that I'm familiar with, although I am disturbed by the spots of blood staining them. While I have my wings spread, I might as well test them to see if they're still capable of lifting me into the skies.

My legs threaten to buckle beneath my weight, but I will them and myself to stand strong. Extending my wings up above me until I feel a slight pull in the muscles, I flap them downward. A hot spike of pain drives through my shoulder blade, forcing me down on my knees. There's no way I can get home like this... I admit to myself. Easing myself back up to my feet, I search around for anything that might have fallen off me. Other than several bloodstains in the grass, I spot my sword, blade exposed, and my bag, which has spilled open. My first instinct is to run and grab my belongings, but that would likely incapacitate me once again. I take small, shaky steps, my one leg barely responding to my movements. I drag my lame foot along until I reach the sword. With one arm hanging limp at my side, hoisting my sword high enough to place it back in the scabbard hanging inbetween my wings would prove to be neigh impossible. There was always the option of dragging the blade on the ground, although that did not sound appealing to me in the slightest. Carefully, I squat down in the grass until I'm low enough to grab the strap of my satchel and lift it up over my head.

"Are you okay, miss?" a small voice calls out of seemingly nowhere. A human child emerges from behind a tall clump of grass. He looks to be around the same age as Kathryn- human equivalent, of course- clutching a basket of wild flowers close to his chest. "Whoa..." he says in absolute awe, "you have wings..! Are you a Valkyrie?"

I stare at the boy, dumbfounded, then finally speak up. "Yes... I'm a little... surprised... you know... about our kind..." My voice is tight from the pain, and this child seems to pick up on it right away. "My name... is Heather... I'm... a Warrior..."

"You look like you're hurt, Miss Heather. I should take you back to my home. My father's a doctor; he can help you," he says, staring up at me. I can't exactly refuse his hospitality, after all there's no way I can walk home- let alone fly- in my condition. I accept the small boy's offer, but then there's the matter of getting to wherever this mysterious boy lives. I suppose I could walk there, although my wounded leg would significantly hinder my speed.

"Thank you... kind stranger..." I start to say.

The boy's eyes light up, "Oh, my name is Milo! And it really isn't a problem, Miss Heather!" The boy, Milo, sees my sword on the ground, then tries to pick it up by the hilt. Of course, the blade alone is as tall as he is, and the entire sword likely weighs about half as much as he does, so he can only drag it. Out of pure instinct, I lunge forward and try to grab it from him.

"Don't touch that-" I start to shout. The exertion from the act in my state, in addition to being thrown off balance, sends me falling back down. The last thing I see before I slip back into unconsciousness is the little boy's face, dumbfounded, staring down at me. Although now... it's starting to look like... Kathryn...?