The Importance of Moss.

The Importance of Moss 12.

It was too bright, all around him was just blurred patches of shining white. It made it more blatant that he wasn’t where he usually would be, in the tree, or in the flower-beds, and it wasn’t a nice feeling. He’d never not been with his troop, and something sat heavy and achy in his chest, and he could only assume that it was from being so far away from his family. It was obvious that this place- whatever it was, he did not know- was not the tree. The light was the main giveaway that he was not at home, because in the tree there was little light but dulled oranges and yellows. Another sign that he shouldn’t be there was that nobody was pressed up against him. It was a comfort that he’d gotten too accustomed to, so much so that it was lonely and cold not to have it. After all Fae were supposed to live in their troops for as long as they lived, it was natural, and the only way for proper survival. The loners died on their own, that’s why he’d picked up Cyrus. It was also weird, having lived with a troop his whole life, to wake up with his wings not tangled with another’s pair. It may have been annoying when it was happening, but now he missed it and the family feeling it brought, it was so different from now, because here he was alone. 

There were so many questions in his head, swirling around and shoving away rational thoughts. The number of questions only increased with each moment because he had little else to do but think. He was stuck in his own head until something happened and who knew when something would? So he began to think up answers to his questions. He wanted to know if he was in any sort of danger, that was an obvious worry. Of course he was always in some kind of danger back at the tree but there he was protected by his troop, and here he had no protection bar his hands. He also did not know if protection was a needed thing, but he settled that it was. Perhaps this whole bright white place was just another Fae troop- a very large, and very bright troop- that had decided to pick him up and do as they so wished to him. Maybe this large white Fae was what had ruined Cyrus’ wing, and perhaps he was in danger of losing his whole wing.

Drew did not want to think of what would happen then. Not only would he no longer be able to each Cyrus to fly again, but he’d have to be taught. He’d never really thought about not being able to fly before and didn’t really give much thought into being taught, but now that he was, he didn’t like it. He thought about how Cyrus must feel and how awfully patronising Drew must have seemed when he was trying to teach him to fly again. It seemed useless now, because it wasn’t that he’d forgotten how to fly, it was more of the fact that he was simply disabled from flight.

He curled his own wings around himself forming a protective shell, of sorts. His wings felt heavy and damp, though as he nudged the droplets of water away the waxy petal-like texture of his wing came through and he felt slightly comforted. At least he still had his wings. He clenched his fingers around the rounded curve of the tip of the stark blue wing and closed his eyes tightly. The vines that ran over his eyelids and across the lines of his cheekbones pushed out slightly, a darker, starker blue pulsing more obviously.

Maybe when he opened his eyes he’d be home again.

-

It wasn’t like they could leave without provisions as they simply did not know how long it would take to save Drew from the large white-bright Fae that had taken him. They also had to think about what they could meet along the way, like Fae troops that they’d done battle with whom still held their grudges or maybe those awful, eight legged creatures with those large black eyes that were the main fear of the small troop. They had to be prepared for every situation, but they also had to leave soon, because the longer it took to save Drew, the worse his situation could get.

Cyrus was the most panicked about the whole thing- not to say that the other members of the troop weren’t panicking, because they certainly were, it was just that Cyrus was doing an excessive amount of said panicking- because he insisted he knew what had Drew. He knew the whole extent of the situation that Drew was in, and he also knew where said situation was taking place. He’d not left it that long ago, after all. Cyrus claimed that the large white Fae were what had taken him and what had sliced the top of his wing clean off, he told them the story of how they’d tried to cut the bright green appendage from where it connected to the muscle at the base of his shoulder blades. He’d dodged out of the way, but still, his wing had still been sliced and he’d bled little pale droplets of red. They’d been eager to get some of that too, though Cyrus hadn’t understood why as they were both Fae.

They had their provisions ready for very situation that they could face, and though there was a lot, it had been packed so that it could be easily shed if needed; it was also light enough that there would be little strain to take it. The troop had agreed on walking- on simple curtosey to Cyrus, who obviously could not fly- though it would have been quicker for them to fly, and easier as Fae’s feet were not designed for walking on them for long amounts of times. They were very fragile and cut very easily, even with the little fur-boots that they wore as protection. 

On little curved and crisped leaves they carried a few clumps of moss- for  the warmth-, a few blackened berries, some thorn-sticks in case they came across angry troops they’d once battled or worse those eight legged beasts that were so fearsome and scary that they packed more thorn sticks than necessary. There was also little acorn helmets that they’d picked for the same reason, and then reels of the healing leaves that Luke collected, just in case Drew was hurt when they saved him.

-

He’d fallen asleep on the uncomfortable ground again; it was cold against his wings as he shuffled from his sleep-clouded stupor. his eyes were big and doey as he blinked erratically  against the bright white that was everywhere, pushing his palms onto the floor he pushed himself into a sitting position, and let his wings drop their cocoon of safety. He wanted to explore this strange white place, but feared that if he so moved something truly terrible- like losing his wing, possibly- could and would certainly happen to him. So he stayed still, and stared wide and blue eyed at the white and awaited its change of colour.

He didn’t know how long he stared for, but the patience served a purpose, because something was happening to the white, as it wasn’t as white as it had been previously. There was a large set of eyes staring at him, they were a dark shade of brown and reminded him of Laurence, though these eyes weren’t as kind looking, or holding the same amount of love that Laurence’s usually did. Drew scuffled back from the eyes, scared by the large-ness of them and the solid look in them. it was unnerving and he desperately wished that they were Laurence’s- any of troops- eyes. 

The mouth that curved underneath a thin nose moved, and a dreadful, awful sound came out. It hurt his ears, it was louder than the thudding sound that had erupted by his ears when he’d first been taken by the large white Fae. This mouth didn’t look much like a Fae to Drew, not any Fae that he knew. There were no thick lines of colour over his face, and there was no obvious definition of a pair of wings. Realising that this…thing, was not a Fae, made him more uncomfortable.

He curled up in his wings, hands cupping over his ears to block the sound, and for the first time since this predicament, he began to sob. Sob for his troop, sob for himself. 

A/N: sorry this is late, but I hope that this makes up for it, i'm pretty proud of this chapter to be honest. c: