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When you come upon the scene, it is a weak and dying Herald that you find, unable even to stand. A few scattered feathers on the ground are the only remnants of the wings it once possessed. It has come to this place to die...or be saved? That, of course, is up to you.
You are alone when you find the angel. The Heralds have long gone unsaved, and though it appears to you, it does not hold much hope of living on. Near to where the two of you meet rests a grey stone slab that the angel seems desperate to reach. With your help, the Herald climbs upon it, needing something from you to save its life. What will you choose to give it? And what significance does that item hold for you? Is it a family heirloom? Something you happened to have on hand? Something you'd purchased earlier that day? A lucky charm?
"Hold still now, you... I swear, it's like pulling teeth..."
The young woman held the struggling flamingo close to her, holding it by the base of its neck and using the bottom of her forearm to keep its body steady. She tugged ferociously on a long tailfeather, seemingly unaware that what she was doing
was dangerously similar to pulling teething. The pink bird let out a quick cry as the feather was taken, not so much bothered by the pain as it was bothered by the loss of its dignity. It was used to the erratic behavior from the brunette-haired woman, as it had been living with her for quite a while now, after its previous caretaker had decided to move on to bigger and better things. Anabelle wasn't so bad, though. She took him for walks, although sometimes she had an ulterior motive - whether she wanted him to fetch something from the lake or required one of his feathers for her headpiece, like today.
"Almost done... there!" Exclaimed Anabelle as the feather came loose. She grinned and tucked it under the tight folds of her balloon sleeve. The flamingo sighed in a mixture of relief and exhaustion, its head drooping on her shoulder. She patted it lightly and set it back down, keeping a firm grip on its leash (which was fashioned from several parts of dog harnesses). They were walking down a dirt road that hadn't seen many visitors in a while.
The day's walk was coming to an end now, Anabelle noted as she spotted a huge tree up ahead. It was the marker she used to prevent herself from going too far. It towered over everything, sending all around it into a temporary closet of shade. It had thick roots which intersected the road, making the area inaccessable by vehicle. Anabelle had never ventured past where the roots grew, figuring that if there was anything important up that way, she would have heard about it or the tree and its stubborn growth would have been removed.
She turned around, wondering what had to be done at home for the day, when something soft brushed her arm. She glanced down and saw a tiny white feather resting on the ground, freshly fallen. At first she thought it was from the bird in front of her, but another feather flitted across her vision and when it took a sharp left and went around her, she glanced back.
Hundreds of feathers seemed to be falling out of the tree. The wind whipped them around, sending them into whirling circles in the air. As Anabelle crept closer, curious and unnerved, all she could picture was a bunch of naked birds sitting on the branches.
She stood under the tree and looked up into the darkness, trying to get as much use as she could from the dappled sunlight that leaked through the top branches.
What fell beside her wasn't a bird, but it was certainly naked.
"Well shut my mouth." Anabelle rushed over to the pale person and placed her hands on her shoulders. Or his shoulders. She couldn't tell at the moment, she was trying not to look. "Darlin, are you okay?"
The person (albino?) raised its head weakly, staring at her through hazy eyes. It opened its mouth, but to both of their surprise, no sound came out. It struggled to speak a little longer, then gave up and closed its eyes. From what Anabelle knew (and a special on mountain climbing she had seen on TV yesterday), you weren't supposed to let people close to dying go to sleep.
"HEY!!" She shouted in its ear. It jumped and opened its eyes again. Anabelle pushed the long hair from its face and though she hadn't meant to, she looked down at its body. When she saw that it had no identifying body parts, she jumped too. "What are you?" She murmured, mesmerized. The person clung to the fabric of her saloon dress, trying to stand on wobbing legs despite them collapsing with every attempt. Anabelle helped them walk, allowing them to lead her further down the road.
When they reached a protrustion jutting from the ground, the being dropped to its knees. It ran its palms over it, scrubbing away layers of dirt. It couldn't move very well by itself, though, and looked up at Anabelle as if to ask for help. She complied, and within minutes the two of them had uncovered a large stone slab that had been buried over the years. The person stretched its arms over the slab and hooked its fingers onto the other edge so it could pull itself onto it. Anabelle watched silently, disturbed at the way the wearied slab almost resembled a gravestone.
The being's breath was very shallow now, and its head began to loll to the side. Unable to do anything, Anabelle took their hand and gave it a guilty squeeze. She had grown up with a traveling troupe of wild west reenactors, and she could shoot a target from the other end of the room, ride circles around an opponent, and still belt out a lovely melody at the end of the day, but saving lives was not something she had experience with.
The hand in hers had been shaking, but it was moving differently now. The index finger was pointing towards her flamingo.
"You want him?" She asked, confused. Why would anyone, in their near death moments, suddenly want to hold a flamingo? Maybe it was cold. She undid the leash and placed the flamingo on its chest. The flamingo gave her a harsh look for disturbing its nap but but settled onto the person with little complaint. The person sighed and fell limp. Then, in a flash, they were both gone.
