Gunshots whizz through the cold night hair as you dash away from the man. It wasn’t unusual for humans to be frightened of you, but this one and a rifle.

A bolt of pain shoots through your wing and you collapse to your knees. You look down at the warm, sticky blood pouring out. The bullet wound throbbed, but you had to keep moving. You stumble to your feet and fumble through the underbrush and past trees, scrapping yourself on branches. You have no idea where you are at this point, but that doesn’t matter to you. All you need to do is escape. You trip on a root and pass out before you even hit the ground.

When you woke up, the first thing you noticed is that the lighting isn’t right. You quickly sat up, which made you hiss in pain. You look at your wound. Someone bandaged it. You were in a bed in a human house. A human cautiously opens the door and walks in with a plate of food.

“Oh! You’re awake. I found you in the woods. Are you ok?”