Occhiolism

The window rattling ka-thud that caused my shutters to clatter startled me. I jerked and accidentally dumped half the bottle of cayenne pepper into my summer stew. I coughed the pepper fumes from my lungs, set the small glass bottle down, and turned toward my front door. Outside of my window a plume of dust was slowly settling down. Beyond my front door my dog was barking, deep low warning barks.

I dusted off my hands on my apron and went outside, gently shutting the front door behind my back. I gave a sharp whistle, the barking paused for three seconds and then resumed. I sighed to myself, that is what I got for getting a Andelian Mountain Dog instead of a nice, trainable shepherd or retriever.

The plume of debris settled and I found my dog standing near my prized strawberry patch. She was covered in dirt, grass, and… Oh, no.

Sudden urgency and a sense of doom carried me over to my dog. The bright red and pink streaks all over her made my heart nearly stop. As soon as I reached her I stuck my hands into the thick mass of her white fur. Relief flooded me when I found that the red all over her was, in fact, not blood but the remains of my prized strawberries. The relief quickly morphed to out right horror.

My prize winning strawberry patch was now a crater. Not a single strawberry bush had survived. I stared down in horror at the bottom of the crater trying to make sense of the sight before me. Feathers in beautiful blues, greens, and golds were in a heap at the bottom. Piled on top of each other. As if someone had dumped a giant bird into my yard. But they were wrong. Slowly the image resolved; feathers at all different angles, bones sticking out, red that was clearly blood and not strawberry juices.

A giant wing twitched, flexing forward before jerking back to a weird angle and I caught sight of a halo of golden hair.

“Fuck.” I swear.

Intruder! Saya told me, then barked; growling and snarling at the angel in the crater that had once been my strawberry patch. I reached out and rubbed my fingers behind the ear, and then sent her reassurance through our link.

I turned my head upward and stared into the endless, cloudless blue. Not a hint of white, gray, or anything for miles. The sun seared my eyes so I raised a hand to shade them. I searched the skies for several long moments. Of course, there was not a single shadow in the sky. No sign of flapping wings coming to rescue their fallen brethren.

Just a single angel who had fallen down and ruined my prized strawberries.

“We could just bury them and use them for fertilizer for a new patch…” I told Saya, glancing down into her big brown eyes. She had finally stopped barking now that she was certain I was aware of the intruder.

Down in the crater the angel groaned. A low, deep noise of pure agony. I closed my eyes and pressed a hand against my chest. With a shake of my head I resolved myself to what would be a tiring and incredibly annoying evening to come.

“We will have to get Martin.” I told Saya, and sent her the mental image of my foul tempered horse. Her ears swiveled back and flattened. She and the old horse did not get along. I sighed and told Saya, “I can’t lift an fully grown angel, we have to get Martin.”

Bad. Mean. Kick. Saya sent me along with the phantom of pain on my ribs, from where she had been kicked by Martin once. If she hadn’t been my dog she probably wouldn’t have survived, but I had mended her broken ribs.

I know. I told her, sending reassurance again. I reached down and gently stroked the top of her head, running my fingers through the downy soft fur. Through our link I said. I know. Martin mean. But I need him. You stay in garden, Martin stay out garden.

With that I sent her a mental push. She whined at me, sending me a wave of dissatisfaction before she stood up, shook herself off, and went to lay down by the front door. The strawberry patch was just inside the small picket fence I used to keep my animals out of my garden. The angel had knocked down part of said fence.

I glanced down into the pit and said, “Don’t know if you can hear me, but I’m going to pull you up out of there with rope.”

I turned on my foot, headed to the stable to get rope and the other items I needed. I’d then have to use sugar cube to lure Martin out of his pasture. He was willful and generally foul tempered, but he still did what I asked when I needed him to. As long as there were sugar cubes involved.

It was still going to be a long night. First I would pull the angel out of the hole, and get him on a makeshift gurney. There was no way I’d be able to carry an angel in my house. I would roll him, maybe with the wheelbarrow. Then I’d have to assess his injuries– at least one of his wings was broken, fill in the whole, put up new fence.

I ran my hand over my face, grabbed the needed up, and a box of sugar cubes. It was going to be a long night, indeed.