MetaFic

The leaves rustled.  The sun had left the sky a long time ago.  Yet, it was not dark; a peaceful night.  But there was tension in the air; palatable, definite and forceful on her senses.  It stretched through the air like the tree branches in an old conifer forest.

She had been waiting patiently for a long time.  It was not a nuisance, as she was accustomed to it.  However, the events she had observed left her troubled.  She always felt protective of him.

In the end, her patience paid off, like it always did.  He came back. He seemed to be in pain, but he was back.  That was all that mattered.   Her concern evaporated, only to be substituted with intrigue.

His appearance was accompanied by a sudden silence, one that seemed out of place on school grounds.  It lasted a long moment, and then a wall of noise rose around him.  She welcomed it.  Even if it was too loud, it still suited her surroundings better than complete silence.

She wanted to help him; the instinct was strong, reinforced with magic.  However, this was not the time or place for her presence.  She moved her head slightly to the left, her eyes seeking the cause of the sound pressure changes.

In his hand was a shiny object, the one he had been looking for.  The one she would have brought him if he had asked.  His other hand rounded another one like him, this one much less important.  The other one was not moving.  Even from this distance, she recognized the signs of death.  She was more than familiar with it.  Glassy eyes wide open; his mouth in a grimace easily interpreted as fear.

Her ears caught a movement nearby.  Her head followed the sound, but it was not the time.  Yet.

Returning her focus to the shouting group, she noticed the old one clutching him.  Both were afraid.  Death always brought fear with it.  She knew that.

Her instinct was to help eliminate the fear.  From her experience, fear caused mistakes.  Mistakes that mostly turned out to be terminal.  She discarded her instinct, no matter how hard it was.  Observing them for as long as she did, she knew that fear brought up caution in them.  It was for the best.

She turned her look to the dead one.  Such a waste.  Death happened for two good reasons, as far as she was concerned.  Even if she had not been present when the less important one died, she knew that it was not caused by either of those two reasons.  He was young and he was one.

But death happened no matter what.  It was present, all around her.  She was aware that one day it would happen to her, too.  She, who brought death every day, did not bother to question it.  It was natural.  It was nature.

Even if the young one’s death was a waste, it was still there and nothing could be done to reverse it.  That was all.  Death simply was.  She knew that it had hurt him, but he would be whole again one day.  It was only a matter of time.  Just like death.

She heard the movement again.  Yes, death happened all the time and she was about to cause it.  It was time.

There were no more thoughts, just instinct.  She spread her wings and dived.