Wings To The World

15.

'Home.'

Liahael pulled them both along, all three of their hands intertwined. One wrong move and doom was coming- who knew what might happen then? What would happen if someone discovered them lurking in the shadows of the Zig Zag, waiting to come out?

But the thrill of it was so much more than the consequence. There was a steady thudding in their heads as their feet hit the roots and bricks, making their ways down the Zig Zag. Smaller angels grouped together here and there, dressed and playing in the bush.

A few of them were hovering over the ground, wanting to show off their wings to the world. The sky extended over the tops of the trees, which blew in the wind as they waited to see the end of this situation. All the branches buzzed with the anticipation of sneaking away.

The bricks beneath their feet, orange-red and cracked, seemed to let them glide from one to the other. The concrete beginnings of the steps were smooth beneath Naphalie's feet. She marvelled in the recent freedom from her sneakers, as she decided they would only slow her down.

A wooden pole stood tall from a perching place. Its shadow cast over the last few steps of the Zig Zag trail down the hill where the workshop stood. The view they had at the top, one of the houses and streets, felt like it had become an overwhelming storm. Naphalie revelled in the feeling of being a part of it.

She reached over and ran her hands over the words carved into the pole, not taking them in. She didn't have time to, as Liahael pulled them further along. Past the old office, with its rickety door and cobwebbed windows, and past the wood board seat out the front.

The seat was under a cover, and they paused to hide around the side of the old office as Naphalie surveyed the space. She hadn't been down here, not since she had moved from being a ground angel.

It was different, in a good way.

The vines had made their way further up, framing the shelter and the seat out the front. Some of the vines hung down, almost scraping the windows and door. The paint was coming off, peeled away with fingers of curious children.

Naphalie smiled, turning her head to look at the garden around the back of it. Sheltered by a few bushes and trees, she recalled having come there during creation. They had worked with the garden and plants, hadn't they?

But that was some time ago, and those plants had moved to give room to others. The path found itself covered in even more grass and moss than before. But the garden was as beautiful as before, the dirt smell still hanging in the air.

She didn't have time to think before Mihael had grabbed her hand. Mihael pulled her after Liahael's lead, down the final wooden steps.

Naphalie's feet hit the beginnings of a curved concrete path down the rest of the hill, to the new office. There they breathed a sigh of relief. Finally, they were close to the end. The bush to their left and the beginnings of the drive all buzzed with the question: 'will they make it?'

Liahael tugs them across the road and into the bushes, which trembled in anticipation. Dirt kicked up under their feet, as they made their way through the forest around roots and branches.

Ending their journey, they creep around the edges of the bushes, a stream running a distance away. The new office, sleek and recently painted, made for a good hiding place. The pebbled concrete hurt under the balls of Naphalie's feet. She focuses her eyes focused on the small garden around the front of the new office to take her mind off of the dull pain.

There was a singular, tall plant in the middle. The rest were flowers and small bushes. Oh, Naphalie smiles to see them again. The world is colourful, so colourful. Her hands tremble with the iciness of the wind. They shake the same way she remembers them shaking with nerves when she first came.