Fleeing from the fight

Her heart fell as she saw who had sliced her wingtip off.  Daryush hovered above her, a cruel smile on his face.    

     She barely recovered from the fall.  She heard the laughter of the two Ahriman behind her as she only just kept herself from touching the volatile waters of the English Channel.  She reached land twenty minutes later. 

     She flounced onto the beach.  This was not her day.  She called out to her people.  None heard her. 

     The storm was abating in this area of the world.  She knew she was in France.  It was the closest country to England after all.  The closest safe home for her was in Paris. 

     She lifted her injured wing assessing the damage with her hand.  A cry of pain bubbled into her throat.  The tip of her wing had been removed cleanly and the blood only coagulated around the tip of the wing.  The damage was not as bad as she supposed.   She let go of her wing.  She needed to move from the beach.