Golden wings

Chapter 41 - Ghostly

Again, there was a loud rumble. His eyebrows went down in a grimace, while his hand moved onto his belly.

He knew that he should have not eaten that much. He should have not let him offer him food. Now, he barely had anything to eat.

Alexis ruffled his hair tiredly and let himself sit on a rock, inside his small cave. He decided to clear his thoughts, too upset to focus on anything after hours of work.

First things first, he had found some fruits. He would not go far if he did not get supplies. Now... he had gotten rid of the bad herbs infesting his patch of garden. There was only one thing left to do.

The day was ending. His eyes trailed to the dust and mud bundling in his nest. There was a broken chair on the ground, near a small table, which had crumbled down with the humidity. No one had used them. He had to get rid of them, because there was no way he could fix them.

The angel stood again with a growl, tired. He was not in the mood, but he threw out the cave the rotten furniture. He also removed the wooden support on the rock where he slept. He emptied his hideout. He did not need to get rid of a certain bed that had been there, because the first thing he did when he returned to the clearing, was chop it down. The wood made a good fire.

While he had searched for some food, he had collected some leafs. He was now placing them onto his flat rock, to get ready to sleep and let another night go by. Once he was done, he sat and laid on it.

It was late, he needed to rest. He really tried to sleep, but he soon came to realize that he was missing something. His amber eyes closed tight with impotence; he snatched his cape from the ground at his side, where he had thrown it angrily before. He threw it over himself, as much as he could, and then he curled to hide below it.

It was a cold night. And not the last he would have to endure. He spent the next nights trying to forget about his wings. He spent the days working as hard as possible, to not think. He exhausted himself, as much as he could. However, he never managed to rest. His eyes always cried, fixed on the dark that surrounded him.

In the fogginess between wake and sleep, he could swear that he felt like nothing had happened. He could feel like if time had not gone by. He could swear that he was not alone, but there was no one there at all. The tears always fell, before he could fall asleep.

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Warm...

His eyelids twitched. His hand moved blindly, to reach over his shoulders. He woke again with a small gasp. His eyes opened, filled with slight shock and confusion. Only for a moment, a single moment in which his mind forgot what had happened to him.

His hand slumped limp once more, slowly; his eyes lidded and stared at the leafs he slept on. The sun rays were reflecting into the cavern, and as always, they fooled him to believe that he had been embraced by feathers. He lied there, not enjoying the idea of yet another tiring day. A day surely spent trying to reach the lake, because the way to it was more long and tiring without wings. He had to waste time by walking.

Those thoughts almost made him curl and just sleep the day away. Almost. He could never stop thinking, ever. The only thing that could shut away his dark thoughts was work.

The angel took a deep breath and yawned, to bring air into his lungs and wake. He pushed himself up slowly, and sat cross-legged on the edge of his stony bed.

He blinked with cloudy eyes, half asleep. The makeshift drapes, which he had made again, concealed a little the light outside. He could see the small reflections of the water flowing by the river, small flickers of green and blue. He could see the small green sprouts by his opening, his garden. His campfire as well, which he had let burn all night; it was dead now.