Once Ivor and I made our way out of the wooded area to the west, we agreed we had done enough talking. Frankly, I was just relieved I was able to find a half-decent boy under all that nervous bluster of his. So instead of pushing the boundaries too far, we chose to use up all the energy we thought we'd be spending on monster slaying on a friendly little race to the mountain pass.

And boy was I out of shape.

I felt heavy ever since my fall, and I had assumed that the aches from my recent injuries would impede me but. . . wow. Without my wings for propulsion, everything relied on my legs - and they weren't quite up to the task.

For a Celestrian, my legs were strong. I walked far more than was truly necessary of my kind, in no small thanks to my endless fascination with mortals. Regardless, these legs did not compare to a true humans. As Ivor sprung forward after the word 'Go', I barely begun to move. Hardly even a minute in and my lower body begun to wobble.

I had a habit of dismissing mortals when in comparison to my own kind; not completely unreasonably, I think. But I wasn't my own kind now, was I? I was broken and bruised, quickly realizing my confidence was misplaced. It seemed to be a curse of not only my blood, but of my own personality to believe I was always in such absolute control - that I could never possibly fail or fall short somehow. And I so loved the feel of competition, because I never thought I could lose. I had believed I learned something from master Aquila regarding this, but it seemed I was foolish even still.

And It was doubly foolish of me to race against someone like Ivor. He was a picture of perfect health. Well, maybe not perfect emotional health, but physically he was in top condition. He may not have had the heavy upper body muscles of someone who lacked Ivor's natural disdain for physical labor, but he was brimming with vitality and his leanness made him quick and agile.

I could only criticize his not-so-aerodynamic tower of blonde hair he obsessively styled. He may have trounced me in a race but he looked ridiculous doing it. Not that anything short of a glorious victory would see my pride assuaged.

Despite my relatively glacial pace, I was able to make it to the pass just as the sun reached its highest point in the sky.

Leaning against a tree, Ivor calmly waited for me. As I carried my leaden feet forward, he smiled - his arms crossed and his face smug. Breathlessly we continued on into the forested mountain clearing. So maybe I was the only breathless one; Ivor simply didn't talk. He didn't need to, he was happy to let his eyes silently gloat as I panted awkwardly a few steps behind.

I would have glowered at him if I had the energy for it.

Trying to ignore my weakening limbs and desire to attack blonde village boys, I took a good look at the scenery around me. Having only experienced an aerial view of the land, I never realized just how extraordinary nature was. We had trees, grass and flowers in the Observatory, but mostly I lived around smooth stone and sculpted columns. It was astonishing to see just how varied plant life was down in the protectorate; or rather, how sparse it was at home.

The only flowers I had known were the pink water lilies and ghostly white tulips of the Observatory. Each of them carefully placed and tended for - they were groomed with the same love of structure we Celestrians were. Alongside the path I trudged on now were a myriad of colored petals blanketing the ground either side of us, all unfamiliar and exciting. They bloomed wild and free of any need for conformity. They were beautiful.

Even the trees, though almost uniform compared to their flower neighbors, were still far more unique than I had ever given them credit for. From above they seemed like a peaceful sea of green, but up close their diversity was quite clear. Leaves of all shapes and sizes waved at me in the breeze and I had the strangest urge to fly up and touch them, feel the difference between the foliage of the protectorate and that of the Observatory. It fascinated me.

It was also a painful reminder that I didn't have wings anymore and probably no home to return to either. I pushed it from my mind. As if I had the energy and Ivor the patience to let me feel up the trees, anyhow. Still, before I could completely shut the door on such thoughts, a small voice inside reminded me it didn't matter; I had already seen the greatest tree of all, and nothing could ever compare to Her.

Not a minute later, the trail opened up considerably. From the clearing proper were two paths; a small offshoot to the south with a tiny pond at its end, and a well-trodden road northward that curved further east. In the midst of it all, setting dead-on in front of me, was a broken and battered carriage of the Starflight Express.

I simply stood there, wide eyed and gasping for air. I wasn't sure if it was from being out of shape, the shock of seeing something from the Observatory, or the violent surge of emotion lancing through me, but I couldn't get my heart to slow down.

The front of the Starflight Express sat there, impassive and lacking its usual glow. All of its fine details were still there, but it looked like a mere ghost of the exquisite being it once was. I imagined I must have looked quite the same.

Ivor waved a hand in front of my face.

"Hey, what is wrong with you? What are you staring at?" He asked, one part concerned, most parts eager to keep going.

I couldn't find my voice. I simply pointed ahead of me, my finger trembling slightly. How could he not have noticed it already?

Ivor turned to look more closely. A second later he gave me a confused glance. "It's just a fallen tree. I don't get what's so fascinating about it. . .You can be properly weird sometimes, you know that?" He said, patting me roughly on the back as he waited for me to catch my breath.

So he couldn't see it at all? Was I so tired and home sick that I was hallucinating things?

I coughed and sputtered a bit before speaking again. "Ah, yeah I'm just worn out, you know? You uh, you just go on ahead without me, okay? It might take awhile before my legs solidify again." I said, sheepishly rubbing my still throbbing shins.

Ivor rolled his eyes. "Leave me to do all the work, huh? Fine, I'll go on ahead but you better get a hold of yourself quick!" He shouted as he ran off up the path north.

It was nice he didn't need much convincing to leave me behind.

Once he was out of sight, I let myself fall backwards onto the dirt as gently as I could manage. My muscles felt over worked and heavy as stone and I gladly gave into gravity's embrace. Closing my eyes to keep out the blinding sun, I took deep breaths and began questioning my sanity.

I had seen the Starflight Express fall that night. I knew that happened. Its destruction heralded the whole calamity to follow. I remembered the screams and looks of horror on my people's faces - my brother's face - far too vividly to have just imagined that part. They fell, and like me, that meant the pieces had to have ended up somewhere.

As I felt my heart slow it's pace, I crooked my neck forward to chance a look in the Starflight's direction.

"Still there. . ." I murmured.

Unsure if I should be relieved that the situation wasn't all just a figment of my imagination, I forced myself back to my protesting feet and wandered over to the train car. Cautiously, I pressed my fingertips against the engravings on the back door. The metal was painfully cold and I withdrew my hand with a slight gasp. It difficult to come to terms with touching the Starflight for the first time. It wasn't supposed to be like this. Why had everything gone so horribly wrong?

I sucked in my breath and tried to steel myself for what I would do next. This was the front car of the Express, so it should have what I need to run it inside. I just needed to get inside. So I clasped the handle to the door and tried with all my might to open it up, pain hissing through me as I clung to the burning cold metal.

It wasn't budging.

I let go and held my bleeding hands to my chest, doubling over in pain. The skin of my palms blistered all over and I wondered idly through a haze of agony if I could have Ivor hack them off for me. I shot a spiteful glance at the Starflight. It's door wasn't locked by some mere mechanism, but rather sealed by greater means, like magic.

Then something inside of me clicked. Magic!

I never studied magic much, it just didn't interest me the same way weapons training did. It didn't demand the same sense of dance and grace; though I'd be silly to think I had much of that at my disposal right now either. There was one spell, however, that every Celestrian knew, and was the very first thing Apus Major had ever taught me: Heal.

It was the most simple of the restorative spells, and was considerably useful in the hands of a proper healer or priest. I was no priest. I couldn't manage to drum up the spell after my fall, when I needed it most, and had since cast the notion of trying to use it again from my mind. I didn't like that feeling of failure - it made the pain just that much more intense.

But I certainly couldn't let my wounded pride rob me of the chance to use my hands again. I searched for that well of power deep within my chest. It was a place that was inside of me and all other people, but felt like it was coming from an entirely different source. It was a small part of my being, but somehow managed to be bigger than myself. It was a confusing feeling and I realized then just how out of touch I was with my magic.

I mumbled the short incantation for the spell almost apologetically, and focused the sparks of healing energy welling within me towards my palms. I probably could have spared some healing for my defeated limbs, but I didn't want to risk over estimating my magical mending as I tended to do with everything else lately. My legs would get strong again in time.

After the pain faded and my skin smoothed back into a recognizable shape, that well of magic within me felt noticeably drained. That was the problem with ignoring my spell casting - just like my muscles, it would grow weak I didn't train it and I had a lot of making up to do.

I flexed my fingers a few times while I contemplated what to do about the Starflight. I didn't have the time for that at the moment though, I still had a job to do here. Annoyance shot through me for having to deal with anything else, and right after, I felt a pang of shame. What had I really planned to do? Take the Starflight home and never look back? Sure, there was no way Ivor and I were really going to clear a landslide today, but he had still asked for my help and I agreed to give it. Was I really okay with abandoning one of my flock like that? Even if Ivor didn't believe in Celestrians, and even if I wasn't feeling much like one, I shouldn't be okay with just picking and choosing when and when not to act as a Guardian whenever it suited me. I didn't want to be that kind of person.

I take my job seriously. At least that's what I would keep telling myself.

It wasn't long till I caught up with Ivor and the huge mess he'd claimed he and I would heroically sort out. The landslide was, well, a landslide. Earth, rocks and bits of trees cluttered the wide path in a giant pile in front of us and effectively ceased any notions any young men might have had about clearing the thing up.

Ivor stood, leaning against the wall of earth to the left of us, his eyes closed and a look of complete misery etched into his face. Worry usually made people look older. It just made Ivor look petulant and childish.

"So, how goes the mission?" I asked, alerting him to my presence.

He jolted in response, then deflated with a great sigh. "Oh, there you are." He said, his voice lacking the contempt I had expected. Ivor turned towards the landslide, "This is worse than I thought! It's so much bigger than I imagined. . . you and I will never be able to shift this on our own. Stupid landslide!" He snarled, fists clenched.

I wanted to tease him for really believing we could have ever cleared up an entire landslide on our own, but he had that same sincere frustration I saw in him during our conversation about he and Erinn's past, and I simply couldn't bring myself to mess with him. At a loss, I said nothing and just stood beside him in what I hope was a supportive fashion.

It must have been, since not long after, he continued speaking; his voice taking on that uncomfortable warbled quality of someone about to cry. "I was all ready to see the look on Dad's face when I came back to the village a hero. . . " In a flash of rage, he kicked the base of the landslide, sending bits of earth flying up in his own face. He broke down into heavy sobs, hugging his knees to his chest.

Ivor was full of unexpected emotions it seemed. I felt like I had been handling his outbursts pretty well thus far, but I was mortified by his tears. It wasn't like Celestrians never cried. I acknowledged my need to cry, just as we all did, but it was such a private and controlled thing - not something we displayed for others. I felt ashamed for him, and then ashamed at my own reaction to it.

I had been struggling so hard against my own feelings of despair for so long now, that I was angry someone else had an easier time of crying. I was jealous of an obviously broken and hurting person because they could at least reveal how hurt they were. Maybe my contempt for this show of emotion was due to the difference in our species. . . Or maybe it was simply a flaw in myself that I refused to accept. I was supposed to be Celestrian, after all. I was supposed to be free of these horrible feelings. All I needed to worry about was my own success and purpose, which was shared amongst us all. Humans, mortals, they weren't like that. Ivor had his own desires, and he lacked a firm purpose; no one was there to give that to him. The pressure of his station in life and the expectations of his family were destroying him; making him cry like a child in front of a near stranger. And here I was, angry and jealous of it.

I judged him by Celestrian standards, as if we were equals in the matter. But the truth was, I never could accept how emotional I was for my kind. So I hid every feeling deep inside. And this is what its turned me into. How could I possibly help anyone?

Before I was able to steep in that painful monologue any longer, a voice rang out from the other side of the landslide. "Hellooo! Is somebody there?" A masculine voice bellowed, snapping my and Ivor's attention back towards the rocks. "Hellooo! If you're there, say something!"

Ivor shot up as he shouted in reply. "Hey! I'm over here. It's me, Ivor from Angel Falls. No doubt you've heard of me!"

Glad to see he's feeling better, then.

"Jings!" Exclaimed the muffled voice. "Someone from angel Falls! We're soldiers sent from Stornway. King Schott sent us to clear the landslide."

Ivor turned to me wide eyed. "Blimey! The King of Stornway must really rate Angel Falls to bother helping us out."

I contemplated that. "Well I'm sure he does, but I doubt leaving the slide here is hardly in the best interest for his own people either. I guess it doesn't matter, so long as it gets done. But what does this mean for us right now?" I asked, hoping the answer would be along the lines of 'letting them do their jobs'.

Ivor shrugged. "I suppose that means we're not really needed here, then. Let them have at it. Huh! Now I wish we hadn't bothered coming all this way." He said with a renewed sense of annoyance.

I wasn't sure whether to be glad or to admonish him for giving up on his plans so easily. As we turned to leave, another soldier cried out towards us.

"Excuse me! There's an urgent matter we need to ask you about. Do you happen to know if a lass called Patty made her way to your village just after the earthquake?"

Ivor narrowed his eyes in thought for a moment then looked toward me. "Your real name isn't Patty, right?"

Now it was my turn to roll my eyes. "My real name is Altairis." I assured.

Ivor gave me a skeptical look before answering the soldier. "Nope, doesn't ring any bells. Why would she want to come to Angel Falls anyway?"

"Aye, well, rumor has it she was on her way there through the Hexagon. The path there's been blocked too, though, so we've no way of finding out where she is."

"The Hexagon? That old ruin we used to have to go traipsing all the way through before this pass was built?" Ivor said to himself, voice full of disbelief. "No one goes there anymore. It's jam-packed with monsters and falling apart so badly it might come down on your head!" He replied more loudly. "There's no way a woman would go there alone. The rumors must be wrong."

I scanned my memory for mention of the Hexagon, and my heart begun to sink. It was a structure on the far south of the land that was built into the mountains. I remembered poking around the entrance before during my studies, but decided against going inside. Celestrians were all a bit claustrophobic by nature. We get all jittery when we can't see the sky at any given moment, and the Hexagon was completely underground. It was less than ideal for my kind and I had a terrible feeling about the place.

"Alright, well perhaps you could just relay to your village the fact that the road will be open again soon. And if you could ask around about Patty while you're at it, that'd be grand." The soldier said, a bit discouraged.

Ivor didn't seem to notice. "No problemo! Just leave it to me. You can always count on Ivor!" He shouted with a fresh sense of excitement. He spun toward me again, exhausting me in the face of his boundless energy and mercurial attitude. "Come on, Altairis, home time! I reckon they'll all be pretty pleased to hear the news." He declared as he ran off ahead of me.

I was not in shape for another race with this boy.

"Ivor, W-Wait! You gotta tell me, what does what does 'Jings' mean!?" I shouted as I began my slog after him.

I chanced another glance at the Starflight Express as we ran through the clearing. Rubbing my palms anxiously, I decided then that I had to come back here alone and investigate more thoroughly. I was lucky Ivor had come up with such a brainless plan and then had been fool-hearty enough to ask me along. Who knew my first lead would be so nearby? The thought of discovering more about my situation invigorated me, and with a second wind, I steadily caught up with Ivor.

By 'caught up' I mean I could actually see him again. He had been ambushed by monsters.

He had been waylaid by a Sacksquatch and a Cruelcumber, both some of the stronger foes in the area. I felt the set of my jaw harden as I looked at the Cruelcumber and his spear, memories of my one and only battle flashing through my mind. I was afraid then, as I had been afraid earlier today. But I didn't have time for fear when my flock was at stake.

Readying my blade, I charged into the fray.

A more agile enemy would have had plenty of time to avoid my attack. Thick crimson spurted forth from the hole I left in its torso as I drew back my sword. Before I gave it a chance to recover, I scored another cut across the monsters abdomen, sending an arc of blood spattering against my own chest, finishing him off.

I felt pretty good about my performance, until I saw Ivor.

He took one lightning fast swipe at the oncoming Sacksquatch and it immediately burst into purple smoke. Another Cruelcumber jumped out from a patch of brush beside us and he felled it in one go with his dagger, not a single line of worry on his face.

And then it hit me: Ivor was better than me.

He was stronger. He was faster. He showed no mercy.

He was so calm while doing it too. I had learned a lot about Ivor during this little trip. I had seen his wide range of emotions and heard him confess his feelings and insecurities. I had gained much of his trust.

Nothing told me more about him than watching him battle.

No matter what he was doing, who he was talking to or what he was talking about, Ivor always got nervous and emotional over something. So I would never had pegged him for having nerves of steel in battle. The way he dispatched his enemies told me that he was far more learned than I had originally thought. I had studied the monsters here, but I didn't know them the same way he did. I just had basic observational knowledge; he had far more personal information. Each darting stab and quick swing was perfectly timed and placed to be as brutally efficient as possible. Ivor may not have had the same grace with a weapon a trained combatant did, but he didn't need grace when he had guts. Confidence. Fighting against a monster he wasn't familiar with, I doubt he'd fare so well. But here? In the land of Angel Falls, there was no one better equipped to kill than he was.

And he had asked for my help with enemies. I was both embarrassed and proud at the same time. It was still not so simple for me to accept being less skilled than a mortal, but I couldn't deny the delight I felt in seeing a member of my flock - my friend, even - fight so wonderfully.

And maybe he could be my friend. Maybe a friend was exactly what he and I both needed.

Picking up what gold the monsters had on them before they died, Ivor and I complimented each other's technique and begun swapping tips and stories. Only stopping once to pick some wild flowers for Erinn, we made our way back to town together, officially friends in arms.