Her gentle actions seemed to intensify their barbaric nature. She slid her fingers through the bloody sand and then lifted the boy she once cared for. She carefully walked forward each step into the salty sea before her was louder then the boys rowdiness behind her. She walked into the moonlight sea, the tiny waves pushing past her golden brown legs. She was waist deep in the water when she stopped. The boy's long dirty black hair was being washed out and the water gently cleaned the brown of his body. There she waited, the boys one by one behind her fell asleep or left the camp, but there she waited. No one saw the water come up but me. It rose softly to where she stood and hovered in that place and still gently she held onto the young boy with black hair. Then as my eyes grew tired of watching that silhouette the wave retreated carrying away that small nameless boy. She still stood waist deep watching the moon lower. Then her wings let go, they unfolded and fell into the salty water. The salt soon damaged the perfect white feathers and now permanently disfigured; her sacrifice just as he had sacrificed. She was still there as I fell asleep but when the sun pierced my eyelids and I stared out into the empty sea and I never saw her again.
1
