Finding Sanctuary

The consequences of the injury did not escape her notice.  Her wing started to stiffen; this arthritic pain was the first sign to any Daeva that their person was being taken by stone.  She pushed up off of the sand.

     Irti looked at the half stormy sky.  The sun happened to be behind her.  The storm ahead of her could be a flight problem.  She had to try.

     Opening her wings she awkwardly entered the air.  She felt like an albatross; a big bird that had to run and flop into the air.  When she was in the air, she could not keep her balance very well.  It was sheer will that kept her aloft.  The storm still raged above her.

     Somehow she made the short distance to Paris.  At that time Paris was under a curfew.  Residents had to be home from their various jobs at a specific time due to the German occupation.

     Crossing Paris had its risks.  “Come on girl, you can do it,” Irti cheered herself on.  She pulled herself upright tucking her wing as gently as she could behind her back.  She had to make it to Notre Dame.  Around there was a safe home, where individuals would help her get home.

     She inched her way along the streets of Paris ducking into the shadows when she saw a German patrol.  For heart pounding moments she feared being found.  Germans shot first then asked questions later, only because this was a time of curfew.  Irti knew she took a great risk coming to the occupied city. 

     Death is a fate immortals don’t really face.  It simply did not happen.  But for a small few, when a time of conflict happens and severe injury occurs, the immortal turns to stone.  Irti stood at the base of Notre Dame, panting and injured.  She bent her wing again, and she felt it stiffen.  She knew she needed to find help. 

     She looked up at the stone building, then walked toward it. She went around to the side of the building.  Touching the cold stone of the grand cathedral she prayed, “Please let the sanctuary still be there.”