The Importance of Moss.

The Importance of Moss 17.

There was a trail of blood along the top of the experimentation bench. The source, the scientists assumed, was from Specimen 1567. They figured this not only because Specimen 1567 was missing but because the two pins that had held him down to the spongy mat were darker at the ends and slightly less shiny than before. There were bloody hand prints pressing against the sponge of the mat, and a larger and duller blob where Specimen 1567 had obviously wiped his hands. There was only brief smears of red after that, then, and they were mainly streaks of dark red, which the scientists presumed were from the rips Specimen 1567 must have made in his wings to escape.

Mr. Jakly, the head of the research group specifying on this particular organism, was furious that Specimen 1567 had somehow escaped. He had set half the apartment on finding the small creature as soon as remotely possible so that they could continue their experiments. And when they got Specimen 1567 back, he certainly wouldn’t hold back on slicing its wing off like he had done with the green-winged one.

He was getting tired of researching these creatures because they always found a way to escape just when they were getting to the fun part. It was not helpful at all, and soon, he knew those damned rights activists would find their way back to the lab and free all the other specimens he and his team had collected over the past six months.

He rubbed his eyes and sighed. He needed to be paid more for this shit.

-

Drew didn’t know where he was or where he should be going other than out of this place. He couldn’t think right for two reasons, he was sleep deprived and in pain. Every drag of himself, or the occasional step and stumble combo that he made was getting harder to do. His wings were there for balance but every time he dare use them for that, they sent bolts of pain down his back and ached at his shoulders.

He hadn’t slept in what felt like many Light-and-Darks. His eyelids were heavy but he had to resist the temptation of letting them stay shut, because he knew that if he slept the Wingless-Fae would find him and do further damage to his already painful wings. He couldn’t bear the thought that maybe he’d lose more of his wing than Cyrus did- who would teach him how to fly if that happened?

So, with the thought of his troop and the reminder of his flying lessons with Cyrus, Drew took a deep breath and continued on his trek to find the tree. To find his troop again. He was scared that maybe he would not recognise them if he saw them as he hadn’t seen them for such a long time and he’d forgotten whether or not Fae’s were famous for having incredible memories or if it was terrible.

-

“Somethin’s going on,” Cyrus says, frowning at the building that stood in front of them. It was daunting, the place itself, but now it was worse because there was something happening that hadn’t been happening when they went to sleep. “They’re all moving and there’s more than there were when we got here.”

It was true. There were more of these Wingless-Fae’s walking around inside the building, there was a loud blaring coming from somewhere announcing something in a language that none of the troop understood. There were rounded things with four circles around their bottom moving around and puffing out large billows of smoke and making a dreadful racket that couldn’t be drowned out. It was more frightening now, and that truly was saying something.

Kier frowned, scratching his finger across the mesh of vines on his nose. “I guess it’s gonna be harder to get to Drew, then, right?” he asks Cyrus, though he already knew the answer. He was planning in his head about what they’d do next because he’d gone into battle mode and there was something exciting about being in a situation where he had to think on his feet and plot a safe way to do things.

Cyrus shrugged, his wings twitching with the movement of his shoulders. “I don’t know. I mean, we’re pretty small compared to them so it won’t be that hard to get past them without being noticed.”

A nod ran through the trop. Cyrus had a point. The Wingless-Fae’s were taller and just genuinely bigger than they were in most senses of the word and in a lot of ways they had the advantages of being big. However, being small was also a good thing especially when you’re going to go on a mission as important as this and not wanting to be seen.

Luke looked up with a frown, though. “Yeah, we have that advantage but what if that’s why there’s so many of them now? What if Drew got out somehow- like you did, Cyrus- and they’re going frantic looking for him and then they find us and then we’re all stuck in that place.”

“Well,” said Laurence grimly. “We’ll have to be super careful then, won’t we?”

-

There was Wingless-Fae’s everywhere. There was stamping sounds that echoed loud and everywhere and Drew couldn’t seem to get away from them. They were yet to notice him, though, because he kept himself pressed up against the wall and his hands holding his wings close and stopping any blood that wanted to rise from dripping onto the floor. He could see some light a little bit away but he’d come t be disappointed by the false lights when he found out that they weren’t real and that they were in little cases.

His wings were stiff as he slid down the long corridor, every time they moved just slightly mre blood made its way out and his walking pace slowed down somewhat considerably. There was a blck that was pushed ajar, and he slipped into the smaller room. It was dark in there but he didn’t need the light to see, felt more comfortable being in here in the dark than he did in the fake lights that were everywhere and never ending.

He sat down and dragged himself until his back hit something solid. He squinted his eyes, raising the black-film from the blue of his eyes and glanced around the room. It was a grainy black and white that surrounded him and he could only see faint outlines to objects that he wouldn’t be able to name even if it were light.

He lifted his hand up and stood, feeling around the ledge above him until something soft came into his grip, and he tugged. The force that he tugged caused the soft roll of something falls down onto him, and he fell onto his back with a slight huff and a bit back whine of pain. Drew pushed himself to a sitting position and pulled the roll of soft flat out onto his lap, just looking at it for a few seconds.

“C’mon,” he murmured to himself as he brought his lower lip into his mouth and began to wrap the soft around his left wing just like Luke had when Laurence had ripped his wing. It didn’t look like it hurt when Luke did it to Laurence as he’d been doped out on some sort of drug, but God did it hurt. Drew wished he had some of that anti-pain stuff that Laurence had, but he didn’t. He knew how to cope though. He took a deep breath and tightened the rolls that he tied off around his wing.

Just one more wing and then he could sleep. He felt safer here, like nobody would find him and like nobody would think to check in here.

It takes him a while to finish the wrapping of his wings, half spent tying and the other wincing forwards and huffing out deep breaths. He also wrapped a tight band of the stuff around his middle and the bows of his shoulders, remembering what Luke had said about needing support on those areas if your wings were damaged in anyway. He wondered to himself if Cyrus had these wound around the slim of his body.

-

“Stay to the walls, alright?” Cyrus muttered as they pushed into the building, keeping low and keeping their wings tight and hidden.

The troop nod.

AN: sorry for another late update :((((