Wings

The First Part

The low drone of chanting flowed over the mountains and down into the valleys, echoing up to the full moon that lit up the sky.

A group of figures shrouded in hooded, white, robes stood side by side alongside a frozen river. The last snow for the winter floated softly down from the grey sky and blanketed the ground around the figures feet. The figure in the centre of the line, who had a metallic gold stripe vertically down the back of their robe, stepped forward and drew back their hood to reveal a proud and haughty faced young lady, her hair red hair glowing like a candle flame against the white of her clothes, and surroundings. A figure to her immediate right stepped forward and bowed, passing her a small, blue chest. The lady knelt down, onto the snow covered ground, and placed the chest in front of her.

Gently lifting the latches, she carefully opened the chest. The other figures had moved to form a semi-circle around her, with the frozen river at its opening. With pale, slender fingers, the red haired lady held up a delicately wrought, silver crucifix. It had thin lines engraved onto it that caught the light and made it look like it was made of moonlight. The lady stood up slowly, holding the cross in front of her. Carefully and slowly, she threaded the cross onto a fine gold chain, and hung it around her neck. Breathing in deeply, she spread her hands out in front of herself, pressing her wrists together. The crucifix at her chest seemed to lift off her chest and glowed brighter than ever. The pale skin of her hands seemed to glow in the moonlight. She moved slowly towards the ice and placed her hands, side by side, onto the ice. Unflinching, she moved her now glowing hands back and forth in front of herself, stroking the ice in a strange pattern. The glow of her hands intensified. All of a sudden a large crack appeared in the ice, with a sound like a gunshot ricocheting through the night air. Soon more cracks appeared, the noise almost drowning out the chanting which had continued all through these strange events.

The lady continued to swish her hands back and forth on the ice and soon the ice was broken up into chunks, large and small. At this point, the lady stopped swishing and stood up. Raising her hands, with her palms pointing down at an angle towards the ice, joined in the chanting, clenching and unclenching her hands into fists. While this was happening on of the smaller chunks of ice started to move languidly towards the bank. When it reached the bank, it continued along the ground until it reached the rest of the lady. It was roughly the size of a fridge, but had chips and scrapes down the side so it was shaped like a stretched sphere.

The lady held up one hand and the chanting stopped. She stepped forwards and knelt down next to the ice. Feeling along the edges she found a crack which she could get her fingertips into and began to prise apart the ice. Pulling with both hands, not even the strongest man would have been able to pull a block of ice this large in two, but the power of the silver cross gave this lady strength enough to pull it in half. Lying inside it, like a metal shape inside a lost-wax mould, was a little girl, with wings. White wings. The lady gasped and stroked the beautiful feathers. She snapped her fingers and one of the surrounding figures swathed the child in a blanket of silver cloth. The lady then removed the crucifix from the chain and replaced it carefully inside the chest, which she then handed to one of the other figures who concealed it under their cloak. As soon as this was done, all of the assemble party walked towards the mountains and disappeared.

The next morning the remaining ice melted, leaving no evidence of the previous nights happenings.

The mysterious figures were never seen or heard of again.