“Commander. Take a look at this.” A smartly dressed woman stands to attention before a large desk shrouded in computer monitors and transparent projected screens. She holds a tablet with a video loaded.
“Show me.” a calm voice, roughened by experience, invites her.
The woman steps around the desk, halting next to a tired looking man, skin tanned and weathered and speckled with faint scars. His black hair is neatly tied into a small bun, the strands tainted with silver. Onyx eyes immediately fix onto the presented tablet.
“Found this on the drone, logged an hour ago deep in the woods to the east side of the cove.” She explains, beginning the video.
The tablet shows footage high above the dense, ancient forest that sits close to a large cove the small city is situated against. The camera flicks as it spots a flash of white darting into the cover of the trees. Diving to follow the drone scans the forest, weaving between clusters of squat trees. Another flicker of movement crosses the screen.
“Pause there, let me see.” The man orders.
They both study the blurred image.
“Well, it appears to be bipedal.” He states.
“Could it be a bird?” The woman queries.
“Possibly.” The commander pauses, “No, it cant be.”
“Should I call the others to analyse?” She begins to dig through her pockets, looking for a device.
“No. Don’t announce anything until we have an idea.” The man stands, picking up a scuffed jacket and a smooth, black visored helmet. “I’m going to see if its still out there.”
“Let me call you an escort at least.” The woman looks concerned.
“I doubt its anything interesting, I wont be long.” Without giving her further option the commander slips the jacket on and strides out of the office.
Ducking under low branches and weaving between twisted tree trunks the tall man, now equipped with the shadowed mask, navigates the forest. Hand gently resting on a holstered pistol. He eventually reaches what appears to be a circular wall of particularly close trunks. Running a hand along the rough bark he searches for clues of an opening. Quiet rustling sounds from a section of wall ahead of him. Grip on the holstered pistol tightening, he cautiously steps closer to the source of the noise.
A shrouded form slips out from an almost unnoticeable gap in the wood. Both figures stop dead and stare at each other in surprise. Uniformed black and dirty, covered white.
“What the-” The man breathes as he realises what hunches before him.
Wings. Ivory white and faintly dappled with greyish brown, the tips poking out from a haphazardly draped, oversized velvet cloak, deep blue and heavy, its edges picked out by delicate copper stitches. The muddied wings are attached to what appears to be a humanoid child, maybe seven years old in appearance. White hair tangled with forest debris, face smeared with damp soil. Wide eyes are trained on the man, The filth making their golden colour appear luminous.
“Hello there.” The man crouches, hand away from his gun, speaking slowly and softly and hiding his shock. “You’re an interesting one.”
The winged child creeps closer, leaning forward to better inspect the man. Curiosity mixed with apprehension.
The man in black removes his mask, his kind expression a stark contrast to his battle hardened appearance as he continues to observe the child.
“My name is Esroh. May I know yours?” He speaks gently, choosing his motions and words carefully.
The child pauses and tilts their head, an unsure expression crossing their face. Esroh produces a small notebook and pen from a pocket and presents it.
“Can you write it?” He gives an example, clicking the pen and writing his own name before placing it on the bed of rotting leaves in front of the strange child.
They look at the set then slowly take it. Inspecting the pen before experimentally marking the page in little scribbles. They stare around at the surrounding foliage, seemingly trying to remember something, then finally put pen to paper.
A few minutes pass, the child carefully drawing in lines, shapes and small circles. Face strained in concentration. The notebook is placed back on the forest floor and Esroh cranes to decipher the marks.
Clumsily drawn unfamiliar figures cross the page, bunched into what must be two words:
Esrohs confused squint changes to shocked realisation as he recognises some of the characters.
“Wait this is- How do you know this?” His voice rises in excited surprise as his head snaps up to look at the winged child, who draws back in fear.
He composes himself.
“I know people who have seen this writing before, I’m sure they would like to meet you.” His calm demeanour returns as he carefully makes his suggestion. He stands and tucks the notebook back into the pocket it came from.
“Would you like to come with me?” His smile returns as he holds out his helmet, beginning to turn and step towards the path exiting the dim forest.
The child reaches to touch it, then takes it and tentatively follows the commander as he retraces his steps out of the isolation of the trees.
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