Out With The Wings And The Wind
He streatches his scalley wings, and reaches up into the sky. Both eyes blind, he stares upwards, and listens to the wind. He waits for the right moment to come, and when it does, he leap upwards, his lithe body seized by an updraft, and then he starts to drift.
Cold white eyes, like milk. Like the moon. Sightless orbs.
From a distance, she sees his shimmering form in the air, and she knows him to be an angel, a messenger from god, a sign that the almighty exists.
In truth, he is a sign that radiation rots human genetics, and that the old gods hate humanity still. He is a sign of hunters in the night, of death from above, of cold heartless savagery.
His claws are jagged and dirty. His teeth are irregularly shaped, razor-sharp, and appear too numerous for his mouth. His mouth is shaped so he may only devour, and howl. It is a terrible sound.
She believes his presence is a blessing from above.
He strains his body against gravity, with a wingspan twice as long as his body is tall. He feels hunger, and burning sensation that might as well be hate – a need to destroy, to terrorize, to mutilate.
She closes her eyes and reaches up to him, as he swoops down towards her.
His shriek is a formless cry that spills through the night, chilling everything it touches.
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