I was born right here in Zion
God's own son
His Holy ghost stories and bloodshed
Never scared me none
While they bowed their heads on Sunday
Cut out through the hedges and fields
Where the light could place its hands on my head
In the West Hills
Free in the West Hills
Free in the West Hills
-West Hills, The Killers
"We made it." Techno grinned.
The Native village sat in the valley below them, ringed by gently sloping hills and the ribbon river. Tipis sat scattered in the grasses and patches of plowed earth. Smoke drifted in the sky from hearths and campfires and the Natives bustled around, laughing and singing to each other. Instead of destroying the land to exist like the towns in the east, this village lived within the air and ground, one with the earth.
Excitement bumped around in Izrail's chest. His hands fidgeted with his reins as they approached, his thoughts racing.
Could this be the day? Could this be his last day as a weakling human?
Could this be the last day he felt the breeze on his skin?
Izrail shook his head. Stupid human thoughts.
"Stop!"
Izrail looked up. A Native man walked towards them, bow drawn, distrust written all over his face.
"Who are you?" the man asked. "Why have you come to our village?"
"I'm Techno," Techno said. "And this is my pal Phil."
Phil slid off his horse and lifted the hat from his face. "I've met your people before."
The man lowered his bow. "Golden Eyes." He looked warily to Techno. "And you trust this man?" he asked Phil.
"With my life."
"And the dark one?"
"He's the reason we've come." Phil patted Izrail's leg. "He wants to speak to Kotori."
Understanding dawned on the man's face. In an instant, his bow dropped to his side, his serious frown fell into a natural smile, his entire demeanor became welcome and jovial.
"Kotori isn't here," the man said. "He's visiting another village, but he should be back in a month or so."
Izrail's heart plummeted down to his feet.
Another month.
The man kept talking to Phil and Techno but Izrail couldn't listen. His chest caved in and the emptiness inside him swallowed up his limbs and head until he couldn't move couldn't think—
"Hey," Phil whispered. He grabbed Izrail's arm. "You okay?"
Izrail managed to nod his head. He took a deep breath and pulled in his spinning thoughts.
One more month. He could wait one more month. He could wait as long as it took for his power to come back.
"Come." The man turned back towards his village. "You're welcome to stay until Kotori returns."
"That's very generous of you," Techno said. He followed Phil's lead and slid off his horse.
The man smiled. "We're happy to help any friends of Golden Eyes."
Izrail hunched his shoulders as they led their horses through the village. The Natives skirted around him, their gazes dropping as they met his eyes and their arms recoiling from his shadow. Did Izrail really smell like death?
Phil leaned next to Izrail. "Don't worry. It took almost a year for my aura to wear off. They're just wary."
That fact didn't comfort Izrail at all. How was he supposed to live here, surrounded by humans who hated him, in this stupid body, in the middle of nowhere, for an entire month?
The man led Techno, Izrail, and Phil to a tipi that backed up against the hills. Pictures of crows and running buffalo decorated the canvas and eagle feathers hung in the doorway.
"This is Kotori's home," the man said. "You can sleep here, if you'd like."
"I would like very much, thank you." Techno yawned and stretched his arms.
"Will you be joining us tonight?" the man asked.
"What's tonight?" Izrail said.
"Oh, you know," Techno said, "eating, dancing, socializin', havin' fun, all your favorite things."
The man laughed at Izrail's frown. "I'll take that as I yes. I'll let you get settled." He headed back towards the village. "I'm Lansa, by the way, if you need anything." He vanished behind the next tipi, leaving the trio alone.
"He seems nice," Techno said.
Izrail sat in the shade of the hills as Techno and Phil unpacked their saddlebags. He watched the sun sink lower into the sky and the pink sunset paint the clouds.
He thought he'd have his power back by now.
Izrail sighed and ran a hand over his filthy face. At least he'd get to sleep in an actual bed tonight.
As the stars filled the sky, chanting and singing drifted from the center of the village and beating drums pounded loud enough to vibrate in Izrail's heart.
"C'mon." Techno stood over him, hand outstretched. "Get up."
"Techno, I—"
"I don't care if you don't wanna go, yer goin'." Techno grabbed Izrail and hauled him to his feet. "Trust me, you won't wanna miss this."
The drums beat louder and louder as they got closer and Izrail's entire body moved in rhythm with them. A giant bonfire crackled in the center of the village, sending sparks and embers into the purple night.
As spectacular as the bonfire was, it was nothing compared to the Natives dancing around it. They wore feathers and skins of all patterns, bells and shells and beads woven together in a myriad of colors that dripped in the firelight. They moved in time with the drums, in time with mother nature herself, in sync to the singing of the stars and the echoes of the mountains.
Izrail's mouth dropped open in pure amazement. Something deep inside him longed to join the circle of dancers but he pushed it down. He sat on a bench outside the circle, watching, mesmerized.
Techno sat by Izrail, munching on an apple. "You should dance."
"Absolutely not."
"Aw, come on, I'm sure you're a very talented dancer."
"Have you seen me dance?"
"Well… no."
"I haven't either." Izrail focused back on the dancers and felt his heart jumping inside him in time with the drum.
"Don't you angels dance in the afterlife?"
"It's a little difficult to dance when you don't have a physical body."
"True, true." Techno tossed his apple core into the bushes. "That's why now is a perfect time to practice." He grabbed Izrail's arm and tugged him towards the fire.
Izrail shoved against Techno, his heels digging into the dirt. "No no no—"
The drums gave one final beat and the village fell silent. The dancers froze and the entire universe held its breath.
As one, the dancers and singers came back to life, laughing and talking and complimenting each other. Izrail's body unclenched in relief.
"Too late now," he said smugly.
"Just you wait," Techno said, "I'll get you dancing."
Izrail rolled his eyes. "Over my dead body."
The days trudged on and on and Izrail once again waited for his power to return. To avoid the staring eyes in the village, he retreated to the cottonwoods by the creek where the shadows hung deep and the reeds whistled in the wind. The warm sun painted over him and the cool grasses brushed up against his ankles.
Izrail hardly remembered his home anymore. He once told Tommy that his home was difficult for mortals to understand. Now mortal himself, Izrail could scarcely comprehend the place he used to love.
You know the feeling of sitting in the sun, and you close your eyes and watch the colors behind your lids, and everything is right with the world? Imagine stepping into that feeling and that's what my home is like.
Izrail closed his eyes and tried to sink into the swirling colors. He imagined that the heat on his skin was the fire licking up his arms, the cool breeze his shadows coiling around him and for a moment he felt—
"IZRAIL!" Phil screeched and splashed freezing water in Izrail's face.
Izrail sputtered and sat up, his blood boiling. He kicked at Phil but he pranced away, laughing.
"You looked like you were in another world there!" Phil chuckled. He brushed the water off his hands and motioned for Izrail to follow him. "C'mon, I told Makya we'd help with the farming."
"Why?" Izrail wiped the water out of his eyes and followed Phil back to the village.
"Y'know, as payment for us staying here."
"But Lansa said we could stay here for free."
Phil sighed. "It's called being nice. It's time you learned."
Izrail didn't particularly like being nice. Especially when it involved getting dirt up under his nails and sweat dripping down his neck and his back aching from bending over. But, as he stood over his basket of corn, he couldn't help feeling proud of himself.
"You're almost as weak as the men from out east," a woman said next to him.
Izrail jumped. Besides Lansa, none of the Natives had spoken to him.
"But don't worry." The woman patted Izrail's back. "We'll toughen you up." She tossed her braid over her shoulder and left to attend to her much bigger and fuller basket.
Izrail didn't like the sounds of that.
True to her word, the woman, Kaya, put Izrail to work. He quickly learned to farm and forage and cook and hunt. After the Natives warmed up to him, they taught him to bead and and sing and weave and paint. He liked painting the best and always asked to draw symbols on the tipi canvas or stories on the rock walls. In the afternoons, he'd gather with the children to listen to the myths and legends of the wilds.
Kaya made Izrail a pair of moccasins to replace his "disgusting" boots. It wasn't long before all of Phil's clothes were cast aside for the buckskin that Izrail beaded and sewed himself. As Izrail worked and created and lived, his confidence grew. He rode out into the plains with Lansa and his friends, studied constellations and herbs with the wise woman, practiced archery with Makya, and played in the river with the children. When Izrail caught glimpses of his reflection, her hardly recognized himself. Smile lines creased his face, his hair hung long and braided, his golden eyes were bright and... happy.
"You're a fast learner," Lansa commented as Izrail showed off his newest basket.
"It helps that I've been alive for thousands of years," Izrail said.
Lansa softly shook his head. "I think it's something more than that."
"Like what?"
"Do you really want to go home?"
Izrail's lips formed the word yes immediately, but he stopped.
Did he?
He couldn't paint in the afterlife. He certainly couldn't ride horses and chase eagles. He couldn't sit on the river banks and watch the clouds in the sky.
He couldn't do all those things that made him smile.
"Yes," Izrail said. "I do."
Even Lansa knew he was lying.
The night before Kotori was to return, the Natives danced again. Izrail took his seat on the bench and watched with a smile on his face. He mouthed their names as they passed by him, spinning around and around the fire like the Earth and the sun. Lansa, Makya, Honovi, Lena, Kaya, Phil, and on and on. People who he dared to call friends.
"Is tonight the night?" Techno asked. "Are you gonna dance?"
"Why don't you dance?"
"Dodging the question, eh?" Techno rolled his shoulders. "If you didn't know by now, there's still a teensy part of me that's still a blood god. It's best not to unleash that on everyone."
"Dancing would do that?"
"Can't you feel the energy?" Techno spread his arms.
And Izrail could. It rushed through his bloodstream and tingled in his fingers and dripped out his golden eyes and sparked in his hair. The drums controlled the beating of his heart and spoke to the great infinity above. That kind of power could do miracles.
"Izrail!" Lansa danced in front of him, his eagle feathers flying around his neck and arms, the paint on his face making him look ancient and wild. "Come dance!" He held out his arm.
"No, I can't dance, I—" Izrail stopped. "I'm sorry."
Lansa laughed and grabbed Izrail. Izrail shouted as he was pulled into the circle.
The colors smothered Izrail and surrounded him in a mosaic blur. The music drowned out his thoughts and fears until all he could feel was the drum pounding in his chest.
It took his breath away.
Izrail laughed as the empty spot in his chest filled with song and euphoria and energy coursed in his veins and coiled around his arms and heat spread across his body as his feet moved in rhythm with the world and his soul soared alongside the spirit of the wilds and-
Izrail flew.
Hours after the dancing, Izrail lay on his back, a smile still on his face. Energy ricocheted through his body and he knew sleep wouldn't come for him. Not after that.
He hadn't felt that since his wings were cut off.
Tomorrow, Kotori would come and Izrail's power would be back. He'd have his shadows and his flames and once he destroyed Dream, he'd have his home.
But, Izrail didn't know if that's what he wanted anymore.
He'd survived hundreds of years without his wings. It did little to phase him, stop him, get in his way. He didn't need those stupid wings anyways. They were bulky, cumbersome, always shedding and always in the way. He didn't even miss flying.
Or so he told himself.
Izrail felt himself crying as he realized how much he'd missed flying, how he missed the freedom that came from having nothing but air suspending him between life and death, and sky and earth. Sometimes when he'd curl back mid-arc to see the sun reflecting on the ground he couldn't tell which way was up or down until there was no way at all, just pure space for him to control, his heart in his feet and his gut in his throat, weightless and invincible.
That's how he felt when he danced.
The scars on his back ached and Izrail longed for his wings and feathers and realized—
Once he got his powers back, he'd never be able to dance again.
