My Uncompleted Stories

Wallace's Wings

(Wallace is a name that I carry continuously through my stories. This Wallace, for example, isn't the same one in The Portal.)

Wallace sat precariously in the tree, his grey wings tangled in the green branches. The crashing sounds of a multitude of warriors traveled through the tension-filled air. Wallace pulled at his wings, trying to not tear feathers. They were stuck, and stuck well. He cursed under his breath, and tugged harder. They wouldn't come loose. The warriors were coming closer, and Wallace could hear their cries.

"Where did the creature go?" whined a voice inquiringly.

"He went that way."

"Which way?" replied the whining voice.

"That way, idiot," a sarcastic voice exclaimed.

"Where?"

"Well, how about you look at the feathers in the branches and determine for yourself," came the sarcastic voice. Wallace snickered, but continued to try to work his wings free. The thudding of feet echoed through the air, and a second later five men had crashed through the bushes and tumbled against the tree.

"There he is!" the whining voice said. It belonged to a very slender man, who looked as if he hadn't had a decent meal in a year.

The sarcastic voice echoed once more. It came from a strong, seasoned looking warrior with rather large muscles. "The genius. The utter genius. It moves me." He quickly placed one hand to his heart before leveling a bow full of arrows at Wallace in one clean move. Wallace yanked at his wings. Free! He fell from the tree, and spread his wings. They caught the air, and he lifted in a quick swoop up and away from the soldiers.

"Where did he go?" cried the whining man behind him.

The sarcastic man lost his sharpness. "ARE YOU BLIND, MAN? GET SOME EYES."

This time Wallace laughed loud and long. Idiots. Like they could catch him. Okay, maybe they had almost had him. But he HAD gotten free. A sharp pain stabbed through his thoughts. Wallace flinched. His wings. He glanced back at them and saw that there was a long gash stretching across his left wing, and it was dripping blood. Great. Another trail for those warriors to follow. They were bumbling fools, but they were relentless. They had been tracking him for days after Wallace had snuck into a village to try to get some food. He had been starving, and drenched from the recent storm. He had shivered his way down the street in the dark, his wings pulled tightly against his back. The men had stumbled out of a tavern, drunk and idiotic when the saw him.