Short Stories From Fading Worlds

The Angel and the Spider: Chapter 4

He ran all through the day and the night, through the biting chill that he hadn't known for years and the rain that hammered down on his skin. Elias was still asleep in his arms, and whilst Wander really hoped the angel would wake up soon since his arms were tired he also wasn't looking forwards to it. Elias would probably feel angry and betrayed at how Wander had bitten him, and Wander wouldn't blame him in the slightest if he decided that he wanted nothing more to do with him. He'd done what he felt like he needed to do to get the two of them out, but what if he'd been wrong? What if there had been another way, what if he'd just been a little bit better at getting Elias to calm down, what if he'd-

He wasn't sure when it was along his run that he'd started crying, and if he was honest the constant rainfall made it difficult to pinpoint when the tears that had stung in his eyes had begun to fall. He was cold and wet, and as of right now he was alone with only his unconscious friend in his arms to keep him company. Right now he couldn't afford to let that overrun his mind however, for he needed to get home. He knew home was far to the north from here, and he'd come across a few large maps and travel guides by the side of the road and in small petrol stations, so he'd at least had a bit of knowledge on how to get where he was trying to go. He wondered for a moment if anyone from back home actually remembered him, or at least still told the stories of him as the strange spider-creature that lived in the foggy hills and woods of the Cairngorms. Whether they did or not, he didn't care anymore. He just wanted to go home.

He'd started his journey by running parallel to the A1, but he'd turned off just before reaching Peterborough since he figured that, as one of the major north-south roads in the country, that would be one of the most monitored areas for any escapees like him. He crossed over a small river called the King's Dyke then carried on passed Crowland, and it was just past that small village that he felt a stirring in his arms.

"Elias?" He asked quietly, gently jostling the boy a little to see if he could be stirred into slumbering. "Elias, are you okay?"

"Yeah... I think so, anyway. Are we out? I can't really... you said you'd get us out, right?"

"Yeah," he said, forcing down the lump in his throat as he gently helped Elias get clumsily to his feet.

"I was... I was..."

Elias snapped up to look at him and scrambled back, the angel's face quickly becoming angry as he looked at Wander.

"I was hiding with you, and you bit me. You knocked me out like prey! I trusted you, and you bit me!"

Wander nodded sadly, not trusting himself to be able to keep from crying if he spoke for too long.
"I had too to get us out. I've carried you north all through the day and the night, and I hated that I bit you, but please believe me when I say I wish I hadn't had to."

Elias said nothing, only maintaining his angry glare. Then, after a few seconds of silence, the angel unfurled his wings and took off without even a single word of goodbye. Wander stayed stood where he was for a few moments, numb, before turning himself back on the path to his home and carrying on along his way. This time he couldn't pretend that he didn't know when he'd started crying.

The rest of the going had been slow. Not actually slow, since he very much doubted that any normal human could have covered the same distance he had in so short a time, but compared to his mad dash from the facility up to Crowland it felt slow. He'd followed a series of roads and trails north for a full week without stopping, and with barely any food to boot. He'd first started to feel a little faint at the end of that week when the sun came out and glared down at him as he'd arrived at Alnwick, so to try and keep out of the light and maybe scrounge up a little more food he'd decided to go cross country across the border into Scotland until he reached Hawick. Half a day later Hawick became Selkirk, and six more days of little sleep and almost constant travel saw him arrive outside Falkirk. By this point he'd been on the run for more than two weeks, and he knew he couldn't last much longer. He was so close to home, just a little bit further, and then he'd be fine. He just needed to make it to the Cairngorm mountains, and he'd be fine. Just a little bit further. Just a few more days. Just another week. I'll be fine.