He could hear them coming. They were coming to pick on him again. The 8 year old boy had no where to hide this time. He was in the woods. He could climb a tree, but the others could reach him with the flutter of a wing. If he was home his parents would defend him, but today he is truly scared.
The last time the others found him along he limped home with cuts on his face and a bruise on his leg. He looked round frantically for a place to hide. He noticed an old tree that was hallowed out from age and the weather that still stood. He quickly ran to it and crawled inside. He hid and curled into a ball in the darkness. Please keep going. Please don't see me. he begged. He listened as the noises got closer and closer; louder and louder. Be invisible, be invisible. He told himself over an over.
He stilled as the noises were outside his tree. He pulled his knees closer 2 his chest. After a few minutes the voices left and slowly got quieter. H cautiously looked around outside and saw the other kids gone. He ran home as fast as his feet could carry him. When he ran into the house his faerie mother saw his tear stained face and picked him up holding him close and rubbing his back to calm him. His father heard the ruckus and ran to his family. His mother gave his father a knowing look. The father hugged his family and tried to calm his wingless son.