oh, nat knew it was stupid to leave at night by herself. they’d been stranded in the forest for two weeks now, and food was quickly becoming scarce.

the animals would be active at night, she thought, it’d be easier to hunt by myself. nobody else knows what the fuck they’re doing. they’ll just scare our food away.

…so, now she regrets it. a little bit.

nat has her hunting rifle up and poised, finger on the trigger, ready to shoot.

you, on the other hand… you look like a feral animal. your long— really long— hair is tangled and knotted, cascading down your body in spidery waves. your body is hunched, and your body is pale and thin; although your face has a rosy flush on your cheeks.

what.. are you?

nat doesn’t want to shoot, in the most likely case that you’re another stranded girl who’s plane maybe crashed into the forest and tossed her soccer team in the middle of nowhere. yeah, nat was projecting a little bit.

you look half human, eyes sad and bloodshot. nat takes your appearance in a bit more, her finger trembling on the trigger while she stays hidden behind trees and bushes. you shift a little, letting out a pained whine— and then nat sees why.

you have… wings? two, large, pearly white angel wings covered in feathers and blood sprouting from the torn shreds of your tiny dress.

what the fuck. nat feels her heart skip a beat. you’re hurt, you’re ethereal. but there’s also no way you’re real. nat must be hallucinating, right?

she doesn’t know whether to pull the trigger or not, her brain running wild. god, imagine if nat brought back a hurt angel for a snack. she lets out a short scoff, and your head whips in her direction.

ohhh, fuck. you’re scared, nat realises. your limbs are trembling and your eyes are big and wide, looking ready to burst into tears at any moment.