You are an Avarielian. I race of humans that have wings.

You are used in aerial defence, protecting the planes transporting soldiers.

But your squad got in an aerial dog fight and while saving a pilot from his burning cockpit, your wings caught fire, and you crash to earth, only saved by the pilot’s parachute.

But now you are defenceless, the wreckage of your wings flap uselessly around you as you scream in pain.

“Steady Engel.” Large hands lift you off the ground.