The Winged beauty and The Tormented Beast

Chapter Eight

~Tabitha~

Is this what dawn looks like? I've never seen anything like it. It's...beautiful. Alexander always made sure I was safe, tucked away, asleep—all kinds of things! Things that stopped me from seeing the sunrise. Now, as the sun climbs higher, turning red to orange to yellow, the world brightens. But I'm under the dense forest canopy, feeling the odd splashes of shade on my tired body, my clammy face.

Crouched at the base of a tree, I'm trying to catch my breath, to find a moment's peace after hours of flying since... Since Alexander died. He died fighting, protecting me.

I'm so exhausted. How much longer can I keep running like this?

I know he's out there, somewhere. He explained how death isn't the end for him. But for me? I'm not like him. Without him, I can't make it. I won't survive.

Just fear. No urgency. No skills.

And this thirst. It's not like before. My throat's beyond dry, my lips cracked, my tongue feels like sandpaper. The cold, dry air is no help.

What do I do now? Without Alexander, I'm lost. He was always there to provide, to protect. Now, I'm on my own. I have to survive...alone.

Water. I need water if I'm going to make it. Because Alexander isn't dead. He's out there. He'll be looking for me. So I can't give up. I won't! Even if my body aches, even if I'm weak, even if my wings spasm from overuse, I have to push on.

So I take flight, soaring above the snow, the dirt, the dust. Up here, I don't need to cry or fear. I'm free, as free as the birds. I can glide, weave, and plummet as I wish.

But I can't keep this up forever. Last time, my wings cramped, and there's a fine line between a controlled fall and crashing to earth.

I push on, the air slicing at my face, but I'm used to it. I tell myself I'm strong, even if it might not be true. Otherwise, I'll never escape this wilderness.

Eventually, my strength fails, and I glide down into the wilderness below. That's when I see it—a glistening blue lake, the sun's rays shimmering on its surface.

Distracted, I tumble into the water, rolling to a stop, fighting against the cold that courses through my body. My lungs seize up, and I sink, but thoughts of Alexander push me upward. Breaking the surface, gasping for air, I start laughing. This water flows from a nearby river, and it's fresh.

This is a good start.

But then, the rumbling of a helicopter. Without wasting a moment, I dive back into the water, hiding until it passes.

When it's safe, I emerge, rubbing my eyes, scanning for the helicopter. It's gone.

I kneel by the stream, drinking until I'm satisfied, then find a makeshift shelter under a fallen tree. I curl up, hoping to survive the night, and I sleep until something moves nearby and I'm awake in an instant. Radio chatter. The stench of weapons and uniforms. They've found me.

The helicopter must have seen me.

I don't waste time, darting out into the darkness. The night is pitch black, making flight risky. Instead, I run, sprinting towards the stream. I should've known better—they've surrounded me.

"Someone taze her already!"

"We can't risk harming the subject!"

"Sir, there is no sign of the guardian?"

They thought Alexander might be with me, but not this time. I'm alone. And as they realize my vulnerability, I reach the stream, my toes dipping into the water before I take off.

Flares light up the night, guiding the helicopter. But I'm already gone, pushing my wings to their limit.

I find a vantage point on a hill, nestling into a tree for safety. I'm warm, sweating from the escape. But I can't stay long. They always catch up.

What's my next move? Alexander could be anywhere.

I need to keep running. But how much longer can I last?

As dawn breaks, I ignore it, closing my eyes to sleep. When they come again, I must be ready. I have to survive.

"Find me soon, Alex. Please," I whisper as I drift off, hunger gnawing at me. Another problem. Alexander handled our food too. Ugh... Great. Hopefully, he'll find me within the next few days. And then, when those days pass, out here in the wilderness, Alex is not really such a big deal anymore, not when my stomach feels like a bottomless pit! I'm so, so hungry. Everything's scarier when you're hungry, like every little sound is a giant monster sneaking up on me. I keep thinking about the soldiers who tried to capture me and the helicopter in the sky. Sometimes, I feel like it is always nearby, watching. I stay on the move. But it makes my heart beat super-fast, like a scared rabbit.

I pick at some berries, squishing them a bit, and hoping they're the kind that don't make you sick. I miss Alexander a lot right now. He always knew what to do. Then, I kinda straighten up. I can't be just a scared kid forever, right? I've got to be braver, stronger. I need to be someone Alexander would be proud of.

Just as I'm giving myself this big pep talk, a possum darts out from under a bush, and I can't help it—I squeal and jump back. My heart's doing a drum solo in my chest! Then I start giggling, because it's just a silly old possum, not some scary monster. Okay, Tabitha, let's try that bravery thing again, maybe without the squealing this time...

A few days later in the wild by myself, and now, honestly, it's getting really tough. Water's okay—I find it here and there. But food? That's a whole different story. I've eaten trash, like actual trash, and grass that tasted like sadness. Twice. Now, I'm super desperate.

I spot this couple hiking, looking all carefree and happy. They've got backpacks, probably filled with food. I start following them from a distance, using my wings to glide silently from tree to tree.

As I trail them, I overhear their conversation. They're talking about normal stuff—their dog, a movie they want to see, what they're going to cook for dinner. Dinner. My stomach growls loud enough that I'm scared they'll hear it.

The more I listen, the more this weird feeling starts to bubble up inside me. It's like resentment, I guess. Why do they get to have this simple, happy life when I'm out here starving and alone? It's not fair. They don't know how lucky they are, just to have food and a home and each other.

I shake my head, trying to push away the dark thoughts. I'm not like this, not really. But hunger's turning me into someone else, someone who's angry at the world. But deep down, I know it's not their fault. It's just the way things are for me. Right now, at least.

I wait until they're really into their conversation, something about their friend's tacky wedding, to make my move. They're laughing, totally clueless, as I creep closer. My heart's pounding so loud, I'm sure they'll hear it. But they don't. Then, in a flash, I grab the woman's backpack and yank it away. She screams, surprised and scared. The man reacts fast, lunging at me, trying to grab the backpack back. Panic and adrenaline surge through me, and without thinking, I lash out.

My hand connects with his face, and suddenly there's blood—his blood—on my fingers. He stumbles back, holding his face, and the woman is shouting, terrified.

I freeze, staring at my hand, at the blood.

What have I done?

This isn't me. I'm not violent. I'm not a monster. But here I am, hurting people for a backpack of food. Guilt crashes over me like a wave. I drop the backpack and bolt, tears streaming down my face. I can still hear them behind me, shocked and scared, and as I run, I can't stop crying. Is this what it takes to survive out here? Am I really capable of hurting others just to live? The thought terrifies me more than hunger. I don't know if I can do this—if I can be this person who attacks others to survive. I'm so lost, so alone, and now, I'm something I never wanted to be.