1. Memories

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A scream rang from the forest, echoing into the night sky. Screeches of fear erupted from the small angel not too far from Logan. The angel's wings were quickly pinned down to the ground as they desperately tried to claw away at the metal net that wrapped their body. Though, even with their sharp claws and bird-like hind legs, the net wouldn't budge open. They tried to find at least some opening or escape from the torture they were about to endure. They begged for their life as an angel hunter grabbed their knife, scarping off some of the down feathers off the base of their wing. The angel continued to try to wrestle themself out of the grasp of the angel hunter that held their wings down. Time seemed to slow down as the angel hunter grabbed an axe and was taking aim at the base of their wing. Soon, out of desperation, they tried to flap their wings out of the angel hunter's hold. Finally, their hand released, his wings much stronger than them, but suddenly, blood gushed everywhere as the other angel hunter chopped off his wing.

The angel's wing was cut at the top of the base, leaving that muscle intact while the rest of the severed wing laid on the forest floor. An immense pain grew on the right side of their body and blood started to pool down the young angel's back and on the floor. In not a million years did they think they would end up being hunted down for their wings, yet here they were, tears now streaming down their face. Even with the throbbing pain making them want to just lie down and bleed to death, they took the opportunity to escape to the trees, quickly climbing them and running as far away from the humans as possible.

Logan watched behind a tree in horror. There was red blood everywhere as his father chopped off the angel's wing. His heart raced as he watched the group of angel hunters try and chase after the poor young angel, now flightless. A dizziness made him breathe heavily, trying to get his composure back. As much as he wanted to help the angel, his father would punish him if he ever saw he was following them during a hunting mission. Instead, he took the chance to run back home, now wanting nothing to do with angel hunting. He came out here to learn of what he thought was a beautiful craft, but all he learned was how to murder and torture an innocent soul. There seemed to be no logic in this horrific craft. An infinite amount of questions ran through the child's head. Why do we have to use angel wings? Why did humans have to take away something so sacred to angels just so they could fly? Angels weren't monsters that needed to be slain; it was all a story that blinded him from the truth. All he wanted now was to go home and cry, but he promised himself he'd find some solution.

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"Logan, you are a disgrace to our family!" Logan's father hollered, the blood boiling in his veins. After years of Logan keeping his mouth shut, he couldn't stand pretending to be an aspiring angel hunter like all his peers and family. He couldn't stand shooting another innocent out of the sky for something that seemed so trivial in his eyes. It made no sense to him and not even the most extreme angel hunters would change his mind. He stood his ground as his father yelled, rage filling the entire house.

"None of this makes sense! You don't need to hunt for angel wings so we can fly!" Logan hollered right back at his father, "I'll prove to you I can make my own without murder!" And with that, he was suddenly pushed out onto the dirty street, his chest and back in pain from the impact. A familiar dizziness rolled through his head as he heard two items land beside him.

"You're not my son... Never come back."

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A slam echoed loudly through the small cabin, making Logan jolt up in surprise. He sighed as he realized he fell asleep at his desk again. Sometimes he wondered why he even bothered to have a bed when all he did was endlessly work on his invention. Looking around for the source of the noise, he saw the door wide open, the wind blowing in giving the room a spring chill. He walked up to the door sighing as he closed it. Nothing ever seemed to rid his mind of his failures, but, somehow, it was what made him push for so long. He knew he was right, all he had to do was just to get his artificial wings to work. Though, his hope did grow thinner every year, his stubbornness made him push to his limits.

Logan walked back over to his wooden desk, looking at his blueprints. It took exceptionally long for what he thought could be the perfect design and now he was finally fleshing that idea out. To the right, there were two frames made of iron that resembled the bone structure of an angel's wings. A pile of leather sat on the floor next to the desk, waiting to be put on the iron frames. Another sigh escaped from him as he sat back down on his wooden chair and picked up the pile of leather. He grabbed a sharp dagger and started to slowly cut the leather out into the shape of a wing, making sure every cut he made was accurate. His eyes were already heavy again, begging for sleep, but he was so close to finishing his wings and desperate to touch the sky, but he continued like he did every day, his bones aching from nonstop hurt.

A rustle came from the trees above as Virgil moved across them swiftly. The weight on his back was a bit uneven, but he had simply gotten used to it. He always came over to the mysterious cabin, always in wonder who exactly was the human living in the middle of a forest. A good nine years had passed since he first noticed their presence. It seemed weird to him that a human would live out here for so long without the company of another human. The good thing was he never saw this particular human go out angel hunting. The only harm they seemed to have caused were over the fish that swam in the river just beside their cabin when they went fishing. A familiar muffled clang and the sound of cutting rang from the cabin as he sat in the treetops. All he knew was that they were some sort of inventor, but what exactly could they have been making? There weren't many clues, but Virgil was soon to find out. 

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