The forest was deadly quiet this early in the morning. The sun was just peaking over the horizon, leaving the Earth to retain the night's cool temperature for now. Nocturnal animals were retiring for the day and most of the birds were still sleeping, not yet singing their songs. Nothing was loitering in the brush of the woods, save for a duo of hunters making their morning rounds.
It was the height dry season reducing the stream that cut through the woods to muddy pools every few yards. These puddles made for a perfect place for Sam and Dean to set snares and other traps for animals coming to drink. The two young hunters crept through the thickets with and impressive velvet tread. The early hour of the morning left Sam's face dopy with sleep. He had only just begun to make rounds with his brother a few weeks ago when their father had gone to work at the town's small steel works. Opposite to Sam, Dean was wide awake. Their father had been taking him out hunting since he was Sammy's age; eight, turning nine in a few months.
A loud crack resonated through the forest when Sam stepped on a dry branch. Dean shot him a look of annoyance. His kid brother had been playing in the woods surrounding their village since he could walk, but stealth was a concept he was still mastering. Despite the noise there was no flurry of motion or rasp of crunching leaves to indicate any game had been scared off. The brothers silently sighed in the relief of knowing the hunt was still on.
The two approached their first snare seeing it was empty, but had been triggered. The vine used to make it was split, meaning what the trap had caught was much too heavy and strong to hold on to it. Dean sighed again as he knelt down to reset the trap. Sam, mean while, stayed standing and with sleep heavy eyes and watched Dean's back. He was armed with a splintering, homemade bow and arrow. He was a pretty lousy shot, but still better than Dean. Their mother was the best marksman in the family, but not even that saved her from the dangers these woods could hold. Aside from wolves, mountain cats, and the occasional bear these alpine woods held, there were also rough and brutal supernatural creatures lurking.
With a barely audible grunt Dean hoisted himself up and pair continued to follow the creek to their next trap. This one, unlike the first, was fruitful. A rather large, tan rabbit stood with beady eyes next to the edge of a murky puddle. Breakfast. Dean thought, licking his lips, as he approached the trapped animal. It attempted to scurry towards a craggly bush trying to escape but the vine looped around its back foot stopped it. Dean bent down, gently grabbing the animal on its torso; it squirmed and writhed trying to flee. He then latched a hand firmly to its head he whipped it around on one fluid motion. The small creature's neck breaking sounded in a tiny chime of fractured bones. The animal fell still and dead in Dean's hands.
Dean stood and handed the rabbit to Sam who silently tucked it into his belt without lifting his head. Sam knew well that the rabbits, birds, and deer Dean killed made up most of their food and provided a source of income, but nothing seemed to be able to justify the quiet chorus of bones and the loud scream of a life abruptly ended.
The sun slowly climbed up the sky as the hunters went from one trap to the next reaping their fill. By the time they reached their final trap the sun's position signaled they had been out for about almost two hours. The boys had acquired two more rabbits and a dove Sam had shot from a tree. Pleased with their haul the two sauntered up the hill to their last stop of the day more carless than earlier. They let their feet drop regularly on the moist dirt causing the mud to create light smacks and didn't bother avoiding twigs and freely snapped them with their thick boots. Sam had even begun to laugh at a quirky face Dean made when the panicked beats of large wings pounded the air from on top of the hill.
Sam immediately when back into stealth mode, quickly advancing up the hill. Dean on the other hand raced up the hill, not caring at the noise he made. Dean knew that trap was made especially for larger animals, like deer or turkey. It wasn't a simple snare like most of the other traps; it was a weighted net, camouflaged into the tree branches above the small pond it was placed by. There was a pressure plate on the ground that only released the net when something over twenty-five pounds stepped on it. The animal was effetely trapped under the net, but by the sound of struggle he heard, whatever bird was under there might be strong enough to break out.
Dean reached the crest of the hill metaphorically breathless, but what he saw shocked him so much he actually stopped breathing for a moment. Hunched on the ground, clad in a ripped pair of jeans was a boy about his age. But he had wings attached to his shoulder blades. Big, feathery, black wings that were sprawled out under the net beating endlessly trying to free himself. Above him, free from the hunter's trap, was another winged man. He looked to be four or five years older than his trapped companion and his wings were a tawny brow and peppered with black spots. His long, dark brown hair fell into his face as he knelt into the mud, further dirtying his shredded black pants, and tried to calm his companion.
At this point Sam arrived next to Dean gasping and sputtering for breath. The sudden clamor of breath caught the free man's attention. He instantly stood and thrust his wings out to their full span; from tip to tip they're span was easily fifteen feet. The man's face was contorted in anger and his almond eyes were petrifying.
"Go!" He shouted in a deep voice.
That simple word was enough for Sam. He let out a sob as frightened tears welled in his eyes. He clung to Dean's arm and quickly hid behind him, sobs still audible.
Dean froze at Sam reaction. He looked from the winged man to the trapped winged boy. He swallowed deeply, "I… I can… I can help." He squeaked out. The man continued to leer at the boys. Dean wasn't sure the man understood, maybe he didn't know more than a handful English words. Dean licked his lips, "It's my trap, I can… I can free him." The man folded his wings loosely against his back and folded his arms across his chest. Dean took this a sign the man understood, though he looked no less menacing. Dean slowly pulled his homemade hunting knife out of his belt and held it in front of him. The man's wings flew out again as he took a step toward Sam and Dean. "It's to help!" Dean cried taking a step back. "To… free him."
The man once again put his arms and wings at rest, still looking hatefully at Dean, and stepped to the side. Dean once again saw the trapped boy and slowly approached him. Sam still hung onto Dean's back until halfway to the boy the winged man snatched Sammy away from Dean. Dean jerked around, mentally smacking himself for turning his back on the man. The man held Sam with one arm loosely around his neck and the other around his waist.
"You hurt my brother," The man threatened, "I'll hurt yours."
Dean drew in a shaky breath before turning around the face the boy again. He closed the remaining gap listening to Sam's quiet whimpers and imagining the tears he knew was accompanying them. When he reached the net he, with painstaking caution and care, began to cut at one of the rope ends tied to a weight. It was extremely difficult due to the fact the boy kept moving and jostling the ropes. Granted, he wasn't flailing his wings like before, but he kept scooting away from Dean and trying to stand up. When he finished with that rope, he moved to the one to its right and continued to saw through ropes until he had three of the six undone. Dean grabbed the rope end he had just finished on and stood up with it.
The boy seeing finally that there was an escape, bolted through the hole Dean had created. The man released Sam as soon as his brother was free. The two sprinted towards the safety of trees together. The man disappeared without hesitation, but Dean could swear he saw the younger one pause for just a second. He looked over his shoulder, his deep blue eyes locking on Dean before running after his brother. Dean sank to his knees as he watched the black wings and messy black hair of the boy retreated into the depths of the forest. Dean crawled over to Sam who was curled up in the mud crying. Dean wrapped his arm around him and pulled him into his chest, feeling Sam's racking sobs resonate through his own body. Dean noticed a handful of black feathers scattered under the net as he thought to himself.
I just saved an angel.
