Chapter 1: On Broken Crates and Bat-Winged Angels

"Dammit!"

The soldiers were still after him. Even with their long tunics that constantly twisted and flapped against their legs as they ran, they never slowed down and they never stopped. It felt like it had been hours since he fled the palace, although in reality, it had been no more than ten minutes.

Fortunately, he knew Stella like the back of his hand.

With a frustrated shout he turned sharply into an alley, knocking down desolate boxes and barrels with his staff. Garbage spilled onto the ground and an awful stench seeped into the air. He grinned, but the victory only lasted a few seconds; the wooden structures were smashed to pieces and the stinking trash was completely ignored as the men marched on, focusing completely on their prey: him.

He swore again and pushed his legs harder. Years of training helped build up his strength, and he was no longer the scrawny child he had been in the past. Fatigue, however, began to drag him down. His lungs burned with every gasp of air and his heart beat so hard and so fast he could feel the thuds in his own chest: th-thump th-thump th-thump th-thump th-thump th-thump th-thump th-thump —.

Nevertheless, he refused to stop. If he stopped, he would be captured, and if he was captured…He shook the thought out of his head. He could not afford to allow any ideas of failure to taint his mind and weaken his heart. Instead, he focused on success: if he succeeded, he would be able to get to the sea, and if he got to the sea, he would be able to flee this cursed country to one of the neutral islands off the coast of the mainland of Sailand and Astaria. Astaria, he thought bitterly, was no longer the safe haven it used to be...at least for his so-called kin.

That's what the textbooks say now: they are all kin, as if they were a single species, separate from humans. Lower than humans. He had had difficulty controlling his anger in his classes as the professor began his daily degradations of those like him. Not only was he one of them, but they all nearly died in order to become 'kin', to survive! Outsiders didn't know the terror of being found out, the humiliation of not being able to return home, the pain of reliving their near-death experiences when the topic came up, or the similar scenario, or the right setting. A dark forest flashed in his mind, but he shook that away too. After all, they had agreed it was for the best that they all returned to their normal lives until it faded (well, except for their Kim-un-Kur friend), and staying together would only slow the process.

And yet it stayed. Day after day, he would examine his neck, passing his fingers over the ink black markings that branded him something equal to a slave in Sailand. Involuntarily, he thought of the others and wondered if they managed to succeed, especially her…she had suffered so much from it. He found himself hopeful that at least she found it vanished so she could live out her dream. His heart panged, which startled him so much he stumbled and nearly tripped. Behind him, the soldiers drew closer and he swore again. In irritation, he purged his mind of all unnecessary thoughts out and turned once more at the end of the alley, upsetting more boxes and a large clay jar. He heard several men cry out in pain as the jar scattered its treacherous shards over the rubbish caking the ground. With a smirk, he strained his muscles even more and sprinted down the dusty path out of Stella.

He could see the mound-like buildings of the harbor up ahead. The harbor and Stella were separate areas, so any unknowing traveler would take the harbor as a distinct town. In reality, they were still connected, although it was only by the road he was on. On the downside, this entire area was wide open and empty, with no trees or boulders to hide him. On the plus side, he had managed to delay the soldiers long enough for him to reach the harbor undetected and even rest his aching body for at least a minute.

He concealed himself quickly, tossing an old, ragged cloak around him and rubbing dirt and God-knows-what-else onto his skin and in his hair. His trademark hair color would still betray him, even with all the crap on his body, so he didn't have much time to catch his breath. Under the scrap of cloth, in the guise of a wretched old man, he examined his appearance in disgust. Not only was he completely covered in filth, he stank like the garbage he had spilled back in the main city. But the sound of the soldiers grew louder in his ears, and he quickly discarded the cloak and took off once more, despite his protesting muscles.

At the dock, he could see two large ships loading cargo, each one flying the flag of Sailand. The timing could not have been more perfect; he could save time and energy by stowing away and jumping off at the right moment. Those ships must be transporting supplies back to Astaria, and the islands were right between the two countries.

The dock grew closer and closer as he ran. He could taste the salty air of the ocean, mixed with sweet success and victory. Only a few more steps and he could easily sneak onto a ship and hide among those wooden crates…

And then a pain erupted in his shoulder and he stumbled once again, this time really hitting the ground. Blood oozed from the wound as he tried to stand, feeling the shaft of a long arrow protruding from his back. He seethed inside; he had been careless enough to forget about their archers. He had been able to avoid their arrows while in the maze of the city but out in the open, he was a sitting duck. A second arrow grazed his arm, taking a small chunk of flesh with it. He could feel the warm, thick fluid drip down his skin.

"Stop right there! You are under arrest for suspicion of treachery of the former Astarian government, for the concealment about your identity, and for illegal trespass into Sailand five years ago!"

The thunderous voice of the general echoed in his ears. The world slowly began to spin and the lights grew brighter as blood continued to flow from the arrow wounds. His heart worked even faster and his breaths grew ragged and unsteady. The thoughts of failure he had tried to ignore for so long flooded his mind and began beating him from the inside. He had failed escaping this corrupted country, and in doing so, failed to keep his mother's last promise.

He was suddenly aware of a presence before him, and instinctively looked up. Through blurred eyes he saw the silhouette of a person with long hair and wings. An angel? he thought to himself. Am I dying?

The angel looked down at him and smiled. He blinked the dampness that had been building up out of his eyes and looked at her again. Familiar green eyes gazed back at him, and a massive wave of mixed emotions washed over him as he recognized the young woman before him.

He didn't notice the swarms of people streaming from the ships and launching themselves upon his pursuers. He didn't even register the animalistic traits they sprouted as they scratched and bit and trampled the soldiers behind him.

He stared at her, taking in the confident grin, the strange new clothing, the powerful air of a leader…but most of all, the long bat ears and sharp wings.

Her smile only widened as she realized who he was.

"Hello, Husky," Nana said.

A/N: THIS IS NOT A PLAGURISM. DA CAPO AL CODA AND XWINGS OF THE MOONX ARE THE SAME ACCOUNT. THE FIRST MENTIONED ACCOUNT WILL BE DELETED AND ITS STOREIES MOVED TO THIS ACCOUNT. THANK YOU.

~Wings~ flying off