The Girl with Wings

Chapter One

-Girl- 

My days generally consist of me talking to myself. I am the only person I can talk to today. The trees occasionally offer some comfort, but it is not the same.

Time is only used for the necessities of life. I eat, I drink, I sleep and I don't leave the forest. I don't want to leave, the forest is my home. I need it, it needs me. I keep out the woodcutters, I protect the animals.

The forest is quiet. For a long time, only a few people would come into the woods, usually to hunt or cut down trees. More recently though, many people have been coming into my forest and staying. The amount of time they stay varies but they always leave within a few moon cycles.

The people bring loud large shiny moving things. Some propel killing pebbles that have taken the lives of many a duck deer or squirrel. Some move the people fast around the forest. Some spew fire and char the meat of fallen animals.

I usually don't like people in my forest. I try to keep them out. I try to scare them away. I don't want them to hurt my forest. Humans tend to hurt without caution, killing anything that stands in their way or dares to live in front of them.

But---

there was a boy.

He speaks the language the people speak. It sounds crude and forced, not soft like the deer or a song like the birds or powerfullike the bears. It was not pretty, but this boy speaks it gently and quietly, unlike those who came into the forest to kill.

He comes here often--- sometimes alone, sometimes not--- and stays here quietly with the nature for differing periods of time. Sometimes only a few moons, but once he stayed for half a moon cycle.

Sometimes, when he sleeps, I will watch him, or look at the things he brought. Sometimes when he sleeps, he will sleep in this cave-like pocket of shiny fabric--- that is when it rains. Sometimes he will sleep in a puffy bag made of the same material as the cave--- that is when it is cold. Sometimes--- when it is warm and dry--- he will sleep outside of the tent, on top of the bag. He stares up at the sky for a long time and then falls asleep. The first time I saw him fall asleep, his breathing was so slow I was worried he was either hibernating or dying.

I get worried sometime, because he does not move very fast. He sometimes runs, but he is slow. He spreads out his things and has a lot of them, so it takes him a long time to leave. If something bad were to happen, I don't know if he would be able to escape.

There was one time the boy almost saw me. He had been in the forest for three moons and I had been watching him talk to a tiny black box, then he looked straight at me. I closed my eyes and hoped he would not see me through the trees. Finally, he began to speak to the box again and I felt safe.

I do not know why, but I do not mind this boy in my forest. I maybe even like it. I think that I may think of this boy as a friend, even though I do not know him.

The only thing I do not like about this boy is that he uses fire. Occasionally, he will light one to warm some food or himself. He is careful with it, and rightly so, but it still makes me uneasy. I make sure to stay close to the boy whenever he has fire. If it gets out of control, I would rather it hurt me than the rest of my forest.

The humans fascinate me in the oddest of ways. I hate having them here, but when they are I cannot help but study them. Everything they use is shiny and new, and they use so much of it. The food you eat is always wrapped in something clear noisy or both. You are all so loud, breaking the silence simply for the sake of breaking it. The way you get around is fast and loud and sometimes I will even see giant silver birds fly over my forest. You constantly groom, always preening yourselves.

The humans are in some ways, like the animals in my forest. Maybe that is why I feel so drawn to them. I feel wrong for liking them so much.