In a Canadian forest, a young boy sat down next to a murder of crows. Surprisingly, the avians didn't seem to mind the stranger. This boy was clearly different. His hair was black and wild, with feathers stuck in it. His eyes were grey and tired-looking, while his skin was pale and his frame was gaunt. His nose was beakish and out of his back sprouted two large black birdlike wings. He wore a hoodie with holes in the back for his wings, and a pair of blue jeans. He held the corpse of a small bunny in his hands, offering it to the birds like an offer of friendship. At first, only a few of them came and pecked at the bunny, eating chunks of the meat. Pretty soon, though, they were all surrounding the corpse and feasting as the boy looked at the scene happily. This went on for a little while, and the crows warmed up to the boy. He laughed as one of them landed on his head and cawed. A couple of them looked at his wings, and then his body, clearly confused. The boy opened his mouth to talk to the birds, but he was interrupted. "Garth Brooks!" A loud voice yelled. The crows flew away, scared. The boy, Garth, jumped a bit as a tall man entered the clearing that the birds had gathered. "Goddamnit, Garth!" The man said, grabbing his son's shoulder. "You know how many times I've told you not to run off!" Garth nodded. "Sorry, dad." He said. "You know the danger! If you were seen-" "-I could have been killed." Garth finished his father's sentence. The father sighed and shook his head. "Come back to the house. I have dinner ready." "Okay, dad. Can I stay out here a little longer? I know my way home, and I'll make sure that I'm not seen." The dad sighed. "Garth, you're only -" "14, dad." Garth said. "I turned 14 yesterday." The father gave his son a sad look, as if to ask 'It was?' and then to say 'I'm sorry.' "S-Sure, Garth. You can stay out a little while longer. But if you're out too long, then I'll start looking." Garth nodded. "Okay." The boy said. The parent walked away, looking back at his son sorrowfully. Garth's...condition had been noticeable since birth. Which was why the man and his son were staying in the woods, isolated from everyone else. Garth looked in the trees, where the crows were nestled. Some of them seemed to say 'You sicko! You listen to humans?' while the others looked sad. They flew away. Garth's wings flapped a bit, he wanted to fly with them. Suddenly he had an idea. He ran out of the clearing. The mutant boy stopped at a ledge, wating a bit. As the other birds flew over him, he ran. He ran to the end and jumped. His wings caught him almost immediately, and he was flying.
