Read over some of my old stories, had some ideas wrote something down...have a little taste;
When one would look down the hall they would see a line of feathers leading down to a room; the door partially closed but you could still make out the light that was on. The feathers looked dark brown at first glance but when they were moved ever so slightly the would show the almost golden yellow color they are meant to be.
"Where is she," a voice grumbled from the room the feathers led to, "I have my memories, my weapons, my wings, everything but why isn't she here?"
A gentle footstep echoed throughout the hall as someone approached the door catching the winged person's attention. With a flick of her wrist a blade had appeared in her hand, not long enough to be a sword but sharp enough to do some damage.