Alastor's Birdy

Lost and Left Behind

How dare they?

How dare they not save her?

The mother of his child

The light of his life

His Birdy

Two weeks had passed since the arrival of his daughter, Eudora, and the loss of his beloved wife. In little Eudora, he saw a living echo of her mother: the same sparkling eyes, hair, and radiant smile. Each of these resemblances was a bittersweet reminder of the profound sorrow he carried in his heart. Yet, at the same time, they were precious links to the woman he had loved so dearly, the last gifts of his birdy that he would forever hold close.

Those damn doctors.

Why hadn't they noticed anything?

They don't get to live while he suffers due to their mistakes.

Alastor clenched his jaw, fighting back the overwhelming urge to stay with Eudora as he left her in the care of his mother. He refused to expose her to the depths of his despair, to let her witness the darkness that haunted him. He was determined to shield her from his shadows, preserve her innocence, and protect her from the pain that consumed him.

He waits until nightfall, and the shadows hide him easier now. Now, he plucks them off one by one, not even feasting on the flesh as it would be too rotten for him to swallow. They were supposed to heal her, not let her light die out.

They got what they deserved.

After a long shower and the disposal of the massacre, Alastor changes into a fresh set of clothes. As he walks out of the dingy motel on the outside of town, his feet drag him to a familiar path. His birdy loved nature, singing, and mornings. They often went on nature walks in the early morning, the brisk air pinching their cheeks.

The glow of early morning was starting to grow over the horizon. A snap of a branch, and he whips his head to the side.

A buck with a canary sitting on its antler.

Then everything went dark.