When Wings Burn

10 | TATE

We sit tiredly while The Alpha laughs. It's a throaty sound, like the grinding of river rocks. He reveals sharp teeth in humor, but his eyes are still steel.

"Not supernatural," he finally confirms, "yet not human?"

He chuckles, taking a deep breath before he treats our report seriously.

"There was no atmosphere," Scout says bluntly.
"No human sense, no supernatural."

"Otherwise, they appear as humans," I add a little defensively, crossing my arms before me.

The Alpha frowns as he listens and I can almost see the thoughts clocking into his mind. "Why would they not be human," he eventually says, smoothing his beard with one hand.

I turn to Scout to answer. He's better with explanations than I am, better at description.

"In appearance, they were certainly human," Scout reasons thoughtfully, "but nothing else. No scent, no atmosphere. They carried no individual ambiance themselves. It's like they were just...existing."

As I listen, I think of how the girl's hair shone so deeply in the moonlight, how her skin was so smooth. Her appearance had mesmerized me, yet nothing else had caught my attention. The air was so quiet within the house. Nothing stirred it, no presence at all.

"The Thunderbirds appear to have moved on," The Alpha is saying when I resume paying attention.

"They clearly didn't find what they were looking for. We're monitoring their progress anyway."

"What about the girl," I ask, before internally rebuking myself. Not just girl. Girl and her mother. Focus.

The Alpha appears unconcerned, though Scout gives me an amused sideways glance.

"You think there's something special about her?"

Yes.

"Maybe."

I'm quiet for a moment. Typically I am fast to speak and judge, usually with high accuracy. But distinguishing judgment from feeling is a new experience, and it demands my patience.

I weigh up the facts of what I know. The girl is young, but apparently inhuman. According to her actions the night I first saw her, she's innocently naïve of the supernatural. She lives an isolated life. But if she were supernatural, she'd know by now.

"I just think," I say slowly, "that someone so...uniquely different to what we've previously seen should not be passed by so quickly."

Scout, to my relief, nods, adding, "Perhaps the Thunderbirds missed something. Whether she's human or not, she's got an unknown atmosphere about her, and it would help us to understand that."

"Watch the mother too," The Alpha instructs. "She is of little use to us, but may hold some answers."

None of us question why we speak of the girl and not her mother. Youth appeals to our kind. It's strong and holds immense potential. Once someone passes their youth, they either have the potential, or they don't. We don't waste time with those who haven't learned.

"Understood," Scout concludes.

"It's a good idea," The Alpha adds as an afterthought. "She may become some sort of weapon for us."

I want to laugh at this point, because neither The Alpha nor Scout have seen the girl, her tiny hands and delicate features...the way her hair falls so softly. A weapon. The girl could never harm a thing.