Resting with ethereal grace upon the blades of vibrant green grass, the fallen angel embodied a poignant juxtaposition of celestial beauty marred by wounds and bruises that adorned its once-pristine form. Every feather, now slightly crumpled, told a story of celestial descent and earthly struggle. The forest's gentle whispers seemed to cradle the celestial being, as if nature itself acknowledged the sanctity of its presence.

With eyes initially shut, the fallen angel gradually unveiled a pair of eyes that mirrored the boundless azure of the sky on a clear summer day. The brilliance of those bright blue orbs shimmered, capturing fragments of sunlight that danced upon their surface. It was as if the very essence of the heavens had found refuge within those eyes, revealing a vulnerability that transcended the celestial realm.

A feeble, almost desperate croak escaped the angel's lips, breaking the sylvan silence. "H-...help me..." The plea echoed through the forest, carrying a weight that spoke of both physical pain and an underlying vulnerability. The air itself seemed to hold its breath in response to this celestial supplication, as if the very heart of the forest paused in acknowledgment of the delicate balance between the ethereal and the earthly