Angel

Branches ripped at her slender fingers and her fine, angel-like hair as she ran through the forest, breath tearing its way out of her theoat, every step an added agony to her already shredded feet. Her clothing was a shamble, she knew, but did not move to stop, only her sense of frantic urgency forcing her on against the pain in her limbs. Her muscles burned, and her skin chilled as her blood trickled down in tiny rivulets mixed with brown earth. But she could not stop. Even through the raging breath in her ears, she heard the shouts from behind her, the crackling of the torches, and the clanging of the weapons and clubs they brought against her. Pausing only for a brief respite from her panic, she wiped the sweat from her forehead, leaving a bloody smear. Then her hurried footsteps resumed, twice as fast.

She felt the shadows eating at her, their teeth cold and merciless, persuing her moreso than the footsteps from behind. They swelled, threatening to consume her in her terror, snapping at her heels, causing her to stumble more than once and nearly fall, but her seathing terror drove her faster to the sheer limitations of her body, merely skin and bone.

Her gaunt features were drawn, nearly white skin smeared with dirt and blood from the lacerations crisscrossing her frame as her blonde hair billowed out behind her, ratted and unclean. Wide blue eyes watered with fear, the drops of fright leaving white streaks in the dirt. Her broken sobs attempted to tear from her throat, but she pressed them back, feeling the darkness within begin to press outwards. IN her panic, she threw her arms up over her face, crying out. It was then her foot caught a gnarled tree root, hurling her to the ground. She felt a snap and a stab of pain as she lay there, trying desperately to claw her way back up, broken. Her once white wings flapped uselessly, thier broken plumaged fluttering in the wind's mocking howl.

In a fraction of the blink of an eye, the mob was upon her, their torches casting violent and death-like shadows over the ground. She shook her head mutely at them, the perfection of her half-clad body shimmering in the half-light, beautiful even in the face of such horrors. They sneered at her, calling things she did not understand to one anoter. She did not understand many things of this kind, only the pain they caused. Her delicate bones trembled as they swarmed about her, poking and prodding her with their sticks and metal objects. Crying out softly, her mouth opened, showing only a black gaping hole where her tongue was lacking. The other about her screamed, calling her a thing of hell a demon. She shook her head desperately, but the mad minds could not be satiated. One of the men lifted his sword, aiming at her. Closing her eyes, she knew the end was near.

She made no sound as the sword sliced through her translucent skin, spilling her lifeblood as easily as rain from the clouds. Crimson stained the remainder of her white robing, streaming into the ground around her. Laying flat upon the ground, she crooned like a wounded dove, her body's golden glow quelched by the blade slicing through her neck, further spreading her blood upon the ground. Her wings twitched uselessly as her slender hand fell from her breast and slackened, releasing something.

The villagers turned and left the her there on the ground, the shadows dancing all around her as the darkness closed in. The only light that was light eminated from that which fell from her hand, softly glowing - a cross flowing with golden light and in it reflected the shine of a newborn baby's face, gurgling happily from its cradle of straw.

And under the soft shine of a single bright star in the heavens, a white lamb tottered forth from where the villagers had left, and from the other side padded a lion. Together they approached the fallen one and lay by her side, turning their gaze upwards, an ancient knowing in thier eyes.

He cometh...he cometh to the song of one fallen dove. And he will cometh again, on a day when ignorence does not slay the pure of spirit. His Mother hath willed it so with his Father, and the Union bringeth peace to the disturbed souls of those who looketh with blind eyes upon their Mother's bosom. One day they will see. Until then.. we will guard her. And we will wait.

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