The Crow

My huge black wings spread out behind me as I stood at the edge of the cliff. I could feel the wind whip my long, black hair around me. My bare feet teetered off the edge and I clenched my toes before I bent my knees, spun and flung my self of the send of the cliff and into oblivion.

Wind whistled past my ears before I righted myself and tightened my wings. The feathery, black masses carried me over the canyon.

Other, "angels", like me flew wing tip to wing tip. We all had different wings, signifying what tribe we were from.

We were Silurians. I was the Crow. And we were free.