1 1 ~ Frostbite

Cold, stiff, feathery black wings and long, silky, silver hair dragged in the snow with every miserable step in the cold weather. The dark fae's petite body shivered terribly from the twisted horns protruding from her scalp to her pink pointed ears and her frost-bitten nose all the way to her bare feet. Freezing winds whipped her face, making sight almost impossible, and the temperature prevented her from using her magic.

She glanced at the white, bloodstained surface behind her, and she felt nothing but sorrow, for she was the cause of it.

The wind died down, allowing the winged creature to open her ruby-red eyes. Before her, stood a young stag, looking at her with warm copper-colored eyes full of sorrow and misery. She knew that he wished to be put out of his misery, and she could not deny the deer's wishes.

So as a result, her small, gentle, blood-covered hands doubled in size, becoming more like claws, her teeth sharpened, and she lunged at the stag, killing it in one swipe.

Her stomach growled, and she couldn't control herself as she began devouring the warm flesh. Guilt rose in her as she feasted on the stag, and she apologized and thanked the stag for being willing to feed her.

Hot tears began streaming down her face as she scolded herself for letting her hunger over-take her. "Asherah, no, you know better,"

Asherah was an odd fae because most fae ate plants, and Asherah ate flesh. No other fae knew this until they found her devouring the flesh of a fox. Her parents didn't want her after this, so she was forced to become a soldier and fight alone on the front lines. Though Asherah was sent there to die, she always came out victorious. Her magic was just as powerful as her body, so no fae minded if she died because Asherah was dangerous to the other fae and even more threatening to humans. She had been a weapon her whole life because the fae would rather her be a danger to humans instead of the other dark fae. Her mission? To kill the human king and his heirs.

Her stomach filled, Asherah wiped her face with her hand, only to end up smearing the blood further. Now that she had energy and warmth, she used her magic to transform into a wolf with thick, white fur to keep her warm.

Leaving the carcass behind, she ran faster and faster, trying to avoid being caught by the humans, most of which were twice her size even when Asherah was her normal self.

After stopping to rest, Asherah swiveled her ears to hear the shouting of human soldiers.

Guess I forgot to clean up both my messes.

She closed her eyes and transformed into a snowy owl, proceeding to fly towards the sound.

The humans were angry and frustrated as they could not find the culprit responsible for the massacre. One was yelling orders to the others, each one determined to find out how their comrades fell.

Asherah couldn't help but frown at their stupidity when they only found one set of bloody footprints in the snow leading to the stag's body, then turning to paw prints, leading them to assume it was a pack of wolves. Was it possible for humans to be so dumb as to think that wolves did it?

Unfortunately for her, one of the soldiers spotted her and realized she wasn't normal. Ack! Asherah had forgotten that owls don't live in this part of the forest because of the hawks.

He pointed it out to the captain of the patrol, and then, using a crossbow, began shooting rocks at Asherah.

She frantically struggled to get away, but a rock grazed her wing, tearing out multiple feathers. Screeching in pain, she dived into the snow, and unintentionally, turned into the original form of a dark fae.

Lying on her stomach, in too much pain to move, Asherah glanced at her left wing. The plumage of her large wings was still softer than rose petals, but her left wing was injured severely.

Asherah's gorgeous feathers were black with silver tips. Now, these wings would probably be ripped from her body and made into a trophy for the soldier who struck her down.

The guards approached her, taking her arms and tying them behind her, as well as putting a torn cloth from her ragged brown dress into her mouth, as they saw her bloody face and were a little scared to be bitten.

Why am I a monster? Not even creatures with greedy and evil hearts accept me, Asherah thought, hot tears running down her ice-cold cheeks as she lost consciousness.