CHOI YEONJUN

The leaves flew, trees rustling in the wind as Yeonjun's hair stood on end. "Come a little closer," he swore it was a whisper in his ear, just his imagination trying to scare him. Blood trickled down the side of his face, landing on the damp forest ground. His head leaned back, his breathing uneven. He felt as if he'd run a marathon, his joints aching. The lantern beside his exhausted form flickered, his only source of light against the darkness of midnight. His finger drew imprints in the dirt, his figure surrounded by trees.

His wings, or what was left of them, bled profusely. They'd been torn and beaten, those wretched humans fighting against his kind once more. This was a continuing war that had been going on most of his poor life. Oh, how badly he wished to run to his mother and cry. He couldn't do that anymore, all he could do was run. Run as far away as he could. The rest of his family, including his four brothers, had been brutally murdered. Or maybe they were still alive, hiding?

He ran, away to wherever his legs would take him. The lantern rattled in protest, threatening to break if it was abused anymore. He stumbled on branches and puddles, falling and getting even more bruised and battered. Mud covered his disheveled form, until he finally gave up. He lay on the ground, breathing heavily, until the lantern went out.