Angels Grave

~ Chapter 1 ~

The cold winter breeze sliced through the trees, a flurry of snow landing next to the unsuspecting white-haired woman's head. She swiftly dodged the incoming flood of cold and retreated to under the evergreen pines that gave shelter from the harsh stormy winds.

Winter was unforgiving. Unforgiving and unsympathetic to the unsuspecting villagers that ventured into the white forest. The white-haired woman knew that. Most hunters in the village and in the surrounding landscapes were experienced, trained with previous hunters or mercenaries who knew how to track and to hunt down prey.

So as she stared down at the collapsed child with a bow in hand and quiver with only one arrow, she wondered how the girl had managed to be miles away from the village with nobody to accompany her. The child of brassy brown hair was still and her skin had turned white, lips blue with snow resting on the girl's lashes. However – that wasn't the alarming indicators but instead, it was the scarlet hue spreading across the snow.

The white-haired woman studied the young girl's path, concluding that she had fallen from a tricky hill and had tumbled down, eventually smashing her head on an intruding rock or branch. There were creases in the immaculate snow and branches unturned by the falling weight. The bleeding was substantial but most head wounds were. She walked up to the unconscious girl, hand caressing the swollen part of the head. The swelling was considerable and she would most likely have a concussion in the best situation and a rupture in the worst.

Her body was cold too if she didn't die from the head wound her lowering body temperature would. Sighing, the woman leaned down grasping the girl by her shoulders and under her stick-like legs, holding her to her chest.

She was small. Too small. If the woman didn't know any better and could smell the difference between a child and a developing teen, the woman would have originally thought that she was only 10 winters or younger.

Walking briskly, she headed in the direction of her house, coincidentally even further into the pine forest. All she could hear was the whistling of the winds running past while she had quickened her pace into a sprint.

She arrived at a small cottage. It was a modest thing and held up well despite the fact that she had been living in it for the last 30 years. The walls had ivy vines climbing into the breaking rocks and the windows at frozen over. A slight smoke emerged from the chimney and dyeing the air a slight grey.

Quickly pushing into the house, she moved the girl to the couch that rested in front of the fire and with a wave of the woman's hand the fires soared twice as large as before, swelling with the presence of the homeowner.

The woman's mocha hands decorated with black claws on her nails held a hand to the side of the girl's head, white light glowing from them. The light immersed itself into the wound, healing the swelling that would incapacitate the girl. The scrape remained - the only remnant that she was hurt.

She stripped the girl, inwardly grimaced at the sight of a malnourished body, ribs protruding and hipbones that looked as they were a whole other body part. Retreating to her room, she grabbed the heaviest clothes she could find – made of wool's and leathers rather than the flimsy cotton she was wearing – and layered the girl.

She needed to raise her body temperature or she would die. Picking up the girl she placed her in her lap, using her latent powers to warm her own body temperature so she could pass it on to the hurt girl. Holding the girl tightly made her starving body even more apparent.

She laid there until the girl's temperature had stabilised and once she was confident she would not slip back into hypothermia she rested the girl on her couch, returning to the kitchen to make some food that she was sure the half-starved girl would appreciate.