Hester was like an arrow when going home, nothing got in his way. The blood stopped dripping after a while and he covered it if it started again.

When he made it he slowly crept up the stairs, now realizing how loud and squeaky their are Hester signed as he opened the door. The room being clean instead of how he had left it originally, a mess.

Hester walked in like someone who wasn't meant to be there, looking at every item like a prized relic. Tense at knocking anything over. The hearth still had a few dying embers and Hester sat cross legged trying to get as close as possible without hurting himself—though he did now have something to heal him if he did.

Remembering he slowly dug around in his pocket and found it, the ring glowing in the darkness.

Balancing it in the palm of his hand, watching the flames ricochet from the golden ring. For all his living, he wasn't quite sure how to feel, should he tell Alexander, or even keep it? Should he just throw it in a lake so deep nothing—dead or alive, could ever find it again.

Not even Death herself could ever retrieve it.

Hester placed the ring back into his pocket, wondering if that really is the safest thing he could be doing—deciding he really could not care.

He went to bed distracted, staring up at the ceiling praying for one small miracle, he would pray, wish, beg, every night if that's what it took.

Please, please let everything be ok.

His eyelids became heavy and he drifted off to sleep.

«»«»«»«»«»


What was that?

Are they back? Why are they back?

What's going on?

We're going to die.

«»«»«»«»«»

Alexander opened his eyes and listened to the whining of the monsters, then he heard something fall— muffled by the floorboards and then a small curse from someone picking it back up. Alexander groaned from exhaustion, it was a coma like sleep, a dreamless and thoughtless sleep leaving him feeling dead the next morning.

The wind howled as he got up, listing out for anything else that fell over, the quiet morning was filled with chatter—even if something fell he highly doubted he would have heard it.

He descends down the ladder to find Hester with a cloth satchel swung across his shoulder, he rummages around for a moment checking to see if everything's in place then notices Alexander's presence.

He steps back a few feet, eyes wide with a few emotions that flash across his face, fear, confusion, worry, to name a few. They stare at each other for what an onlooker would deem 'an uncomfortable amount of time' before Hester resigns, sighing says.

"I'm going to look for him."

He says it as though he's justifying the idea, like Alexander didn't know what he was talking about—and if he did, did not care to join in it.

Alexander crossed the room swiftly, and calmly. For a moment Hester tensed by the action not understanding it—and so fearing it as well.

In one smooth motion Alexander swung a bag over his shoulder matching Hester walked up to him and said.

"Then I will as well."

He said it simply, calmly, deliberately.

Hester seemed taken aback by the reply, probably expanding a swift punch to the ribcage—which is also what the monsters were demanding. The wretched screeching ringing in Alexander's ears as he had said the short sentence.

"You don't know where it is—" Hester said Alexander immediately cutting him off, drawled.

"You do however."

Hester sputtered trying to find an excuse—that would not work on Alexander even if it was a valid point, and to Alexander there were many. Hester thought, the words coming out clustered and quickly.

"How are you sure I know where it is?"

Alexander arched an eyebrow, toying with the idea of why they have to fight over something they both want—like children fighting over a doll.

"You don't know every single person with wings strapped to their back?"

Alexander asked light-heartedly. The joke landed flat as Hester asked "What about Odin?" Alexander rolled his eyes hiding his face as he grabbed a roll of bandages. "I'll take him with us."

Hester couldn't come up with any other suitable options as Alexander opened the door stepping aside for Hester. The white light flooded the room, the hearth being dead and all other light or heat sources being extinguished before they left—they had no idea how long it would be until they returned.

Hester stepped closer to the door, cold air drifting in, his mouth opened and closed then said patiently.

"You don't have to do this," He said it like a sword was inches away from his throat, like Alexander was going to somehow regret this decision.

"Mate, this is my own problem, you don't have to—"

"No." Alexander said, not having the tone of a man who has led wars or burned kingdoms but as a person who wants nothing more than what was taken—to not take away, but take back. A brother.

A sad smile flashes on his face then is replaced by one that looks more genuine, he nods his head steps in the light.

And the search for Wilbur begins.

It takes little time to start the journey, and as much as Hester tried Alexander walked step for step with him. Odin trailing behind after that.

Hester practically blinks and they’re off the plateau and past the ruins of his old cabin. Making a steady path though the overgrown grass, the trees growing to absurd sizes as they continue.

They skip lunch and nearly dinner, Hester has no idea how Alexander or Odin kept up so well, by noon Hester had a wave of pain for each step he took, to ignore it he distracted himself with flowers or the contrasting in leaves. They continued walking, Hester flying up occasionally to make sure they were indeed going in the right direction—after all he flew all his way here, not walking and things look a lot different below.

Hester drifted in and out of consciousness as he walked, being trapped in his worst nightmare; his own head.

Neither of them made any attempt at conversation forcing Hester to theorize on how this happened—how to stop it from happening again and to kill any bastard that ever tries to even—

"—Speculation will kill any hope you have of finding him."

Alexander said suddenly, his voice having the same calm emotionless tone, like stone grinding on stone.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

Hester counter defensively, already prepared for rebuttal, for a moment where Alexander might leave saying that it was too much and it was Hester's problem not his. That he 'killed his hope' by saying nothing at all and keeping to himself.

"It means, speculation will only cripple our way forward, and will doom us in the long run—and in the short run kill us entirely."

Hester scoffs somewhat light-hearted jokingly saying.

"Mate, you sound like you're older than me—or like some sort of captain."

"If I was older then you, I would be a pile of dust."

Hester gasped dramatically showing fake hurt from the insult—though he did notice that Alexander didn't acknowledge the last remark, him being a captain it was now unobjectively that he was a captain—or that his metal arm stiffened when Hester's laughter echoed from the trees.

Hester didn't bring up the topic, finding themselves in a more comfortable silence, peaceful and tranquil. Hester enjoyed it from start to finish, letting his mind drift and move from one sweet thought to another, like someone switched the world from night to day. Everything seemed less big when Alexander was around—everything seemed possible when Alexander was around.

'Cripple our way forward'? It was such a strange way of saying 'stop looking at the past you idiot' the words immediately being covered by Hester being old, something was off the way Alexander's words drifted in and out clumping into shorter and cut sentences—like he was distracting Hester with the talking. Hester paid no real heed to the conversation.

Night fell thick and fast—of course it would, the track was for two days, one day flying but with Odin and Alexander it was out of the question.

A small fire burned with life as the dried kindling was eaten by the flames, Hester spread his wings out feeling the heat smiled to himself—then he was cold.

A whimper of a hiss rang out as Alexander dumped the water on it, Hester looked up a retort of annoyance ready. Alexander didn't even look in his direction, eyes scanning the trees, Hester stayed silent as his ears rang, trying to hear what Alexander had—then he heard them.

Something was moving, through the covers of the trees weaving quickly and quietly back and forth, then there were two, and Hester knew they were surrounded. Blinding white eyes stared at Hester for one second—two three, then screeched, loud and high pitched unlike anything Hester had ever heard come from a Shadow person, something Hester had never heard, ever.

A woodcutter's axe crashed down on Hester not having enough time to dodge, put his arm up to block his face, it came slicing down on it, blood sputtering over the rest of his arm, it leaking like water over his sleeve.

It was parallel and almost identical to another scar.

«»«»«»«»«»

. . ."Angel are you alright?" Death asked, genuinely worried, leaking through her echoing voice.

"I'm alright." The Angel lied, easily. Grinning to his Goddess it coming out as a grimace, he turned away hoping she wouldn't notice, she did. Gently and oh-so softly she took the Angel's arm.

From instinct he flinched pulling his arm close to his chest hiding it using his wing, it was just a scratch. He just got in a fight with a few. . . Shadows.

He first lied to his Goddess and himself at the same moment. They weren't Shadow people however much he wanted to will it into reality it would not. Those were people, people with thoughts and feelings—people that could be like him, or even with him, fighting side by side if his Goddess decided on it. But she did not, and in turn, they were slaughtered.

"Angel, please let me help you." The words were so soft and fragile, it confused him—the idea that someone cares about him, confused him more. He hurt so many human beings, and yet, here he was getting sympathy from a Goddess, getting taken care of by a Goddess. To him it almost seemed unfair.

Almost.

He ruffled his feathers, moving them from hiding his arm, he bit the inside of his mouth as he slowly lifted it. Covering the tips of his fingers to his forearm, was flimsy wrapped bandages, the cloth stained and suffocating his arm—it feeling numb with the flaming pain that shot up his forearm with every second. Dull and distracting as he let his arm fall again.

In the next moments the Angel was sitting still as his Goddess moved him through his mistakes, teaching him. Simple things, like the way the wrapping was done and how to do it better, in the next second his hand stung almost silently, not biting but more so growling as the wrapping was complete.

Death smiled at her Angel. She held his injured bandage hand, for a moment the world was perfect, it was just the two of them.

"There was no need to be in fear Angel."

She giggled, the sound of church bells rang, singing a death ballad. . .

«»«»«»«»«»

A part of Hester was sad to see his Goddess go, another was relieved that the reliving was over, that he wasn't lost in his own head but back.

Hester stood over the remains of a Shadow person, its lifeless body strewn across the dewy ground. Hester turned seeing the other two having been eviscerated on the grass as well. He could barely see without the fire to give light—but could easily make out the swirling purple liquid of the Shadow's body, the blinding white eyes have been dimmed from their eyes, a sign that they are with Lady Death now.

Hester sighed, he didn't realize the battle was over, already won. Hester turned watching the forest for movement of Alexander, he spun around looking in all directions.

The only thing he could find was footsteps.

"Uh no." Hester groaned, half with fear, another with exhaustion. Hester began to follow them, deeper and deeper he went, footsteps of Alexander and hoof marks of Odin showing that he was going in the right direction, the stars being his only guide in this place.

After aimlessly wandering he stumbled blindly on a huge hollow tree, a fire blazing with a short kid with apple red hair and metal hand—Alexander Hester sighed in relief at the sight of Alexander and Odin being ok.

Alexander's head didn't turn as Hester sat down across the small blaze on the other side of the hollow log. The two quietly listen to the steady hiss and pop of the fire, the light catching Hester's eye as Alexander's metal arm shines mimicking the glow of the flames, it dancing across the glossy surface.

-What had happened?- Something had happened, one moment he and Alexander were surrounded by Shadows ready to fight together—the next Hester standing alone with Alexander seemingly tending to a fire.

Hester tried to catch his eyes, trying to understand what's wrong—because the one thing Alexander can't seem to do is talk—tell what's wrong, and as much as Hester understands it, it doesn't tell him the problem. So he sits, he waits.

An hour, maybe two, he sits next to him. Not encroaching—or at least not trying to, Alexander was so on guard he might as well just say the words 'I don't trust you'

He shifts his wings, finally getting tired, and just pokes Alexander in the arm. The tip of Hester's nail and the cold metallic of Alexander's prosthetic creates a small clank sound. Alexander flinches.

"Don't touch me" Alexander snapped steady and calm, if it wasn't for the way he hide his arm pulling it tightly to his chest Hester would almost believe the words

Almost.

But Hester wasn't so naive as to know something wasn't wrong, Alexander became defensive, protecting himself—which means he was vulnerable, and scared.

From Hester's experience, pushing people away never worked for long, in the moment it could save your life, the lives of hundreds and thousands to come, but that rarely ever happened, if ever.

"You helped me," Hester said gently, softly, just like his Goddess had taught him to. Slowly tugging at Alexander's metal arm hearing it click and then Alexander sighs trying to block out the pain, closing his eyes.

"I want to help you." Hester continued, pleading, trying to earn his trust, somewhere along the way he got it—then lost it. He wants to have that feeling again. Wants to be that again.

Alexander watched the flames for a moment his eyes set ablaze then slowly released his arm showing Hester, not once turning to look at him, not wanting to see his face as Hester winces at the metal digging into his arm, his real arm his shoulder and upper part of his arm being flesh and bone turning to cold iron at his elbow.

Hester turned his hand to the palm facing upwards towards the limitless sky. He moved his arm in different directions ears straining to hear anything suddenly hearing a short click then Alexander moving his arm back to its original possession, glaring daggers somewhat begrudging over the fact that Hester knew he was injured, Hester didn't know why it matters so much—they were too far to turn back now.

"So, how'd that happen?" Hester asked genuinely surprised and confused why Alexander didn't say anything, it looked painful, Hester was somewhat impressed that Alexander didn't keel over already.

Another part of Hester was disappointed that Alexander had let himself get hurt and not give himself time to heal, not even wrapping it or a remedy to at least numb the pain for a while, nothing, it seemed uncharacteristically reckless, stupid, intentional of him.

Alexander said something too low to hear, akin to a groan or a growl. Hester gestured for his arm again, prodding and poking at it, in the spanning silence Hester asked another question this one being answered.

"When did this even happen?" Hester said appalled at the chips missing and having the metal bent over in some areas. Whatever or whoever made the marks did so very intentionally.

"A few nights ago." Alexander said helpfully.

"Did I do this?" Hester continued thumbing on a section that looked like it was slashed by something sharp.

"Unless you have a crossbow, I do not know about."

"I don't."

"Then it was someone else with big crow wings."

Hester scoffed at the idea that his wings looked like ones from a crow, his amused grin going from ear to ear, he sobered after a moment pulling on an area, a satisfying click the arm became stiff and heavier than before, Hester had little idea of what he was doing, if any at all but it was a start.

"Can you try moving your arm?"

The prosthetic was unmoving and lifeless after a few moments Alexander looked up and said calmly.

"I hate you."

The rest of the night was filled with Alexander complaining and Hester fixing and breaking the metal arm. It was long into the night before Alexander could move every single finger and grab something where it wouldn't snap shut on it. In the end, it wasn't painful anymore so it wasn't a total waste of time.

"That was a waste of time." Alexander said as he picked up a rock from the ground rotating it then putting it back to test out the prosthetic.

"Mate, why didn't you just tell me in the first place? It would have been so much easier." Hester said only half joking. "We could have done it somewhere better than here." He gestured above to the hollow tree around them.

"I thought you wouldn't bring me otherwise."

Alexander said calmly, emotionlessly, ashamed.

"I wouldn't have."

Hester agreed—for as much as he wished he wouldn't, for as much as he hoped he would never, he absolutely would have, he would have the moment Alexander said it and would use it against him. Without a doubt.

He turned to Alexander he still fiddled with the rock, throwing it up in the air and then catching it, it hit his palm and made a chink then he caught it with his index and thumb, not making a sound.

Alexander threw the rock into the fire, it bounced into it then disappeared into the flames.

"I'll take first watch." Alexander said, standing up.

There wasn't really anything to watch for, but both had spent too much time worrying about their safety to stop now.

Hester wrapped his wings around himself and leaned into the wall of the tree, he closed his eyes and felt the warmth of the fire, making a promise to the Gods.

-Tomorrow-

-I'll find him, tomorrow-

Then he drifted off to a warm and peaceful sleep.

[[]][[]][[]][[]][[]]
Art by Wolfythewitch on YouTube/X
All written using Novelist
Hester really can't catch a break with something or someone trying to cut his arm off, my bad m8 (+⁠_⁠+⁠)
© Unavailable