Hi! :) For the BTHB card may I request ‘Broken Angel’? ...I’m curious to see what you do with this trope!
I’m so excited!!! For those who don’t know, the Broken Angel trope refers to a mystical creature who is wounded so they have lost what made them so special in the first place, like an angel losing their wings. Enjoy!
The creature at the edge of the pond wasn’t a horse. It’s head was too large and it was bearded like a goat with thick white hair cascading down its neck. The proportions in it’s legs were all wrong: the creature was too long and lean and graceful to have such large feet. Itts hooves were cloven, made for climbing swiftly up rocky terrain, not soft terf. Finally, its eyes glared at Page with such intensity that they could swear that the animal was staring into Page’s very soul.
No, the creature wasn’t a horse, but that wasn’t going to stop Page. After all, they weren’t really a boy. And the creature was wounded, whatever it was. Page had something to say about that.
They approached the animal from the side, wincing inwardly at the sharp red brand pressed into the not-horse’s tender white flank. It had to be recent; the burn boiled angrily and obviously hadn’t had time to heal.
Blood raced down the creature’s face from a wound in the middle of its forehead. There was a circle there, crusted black with blood, like something had been forcibly torn or hacked or burned out of the animal’s skull; Page feared it was a combination of the three.
As soon as the 15-year-old approached, the creature reared in alarm. It stared Page down violently, threatening with its strong front hooves should Page move closer.
It radiated power. It puffed its chest in fierce defiance. It had been touched against its will and it would kill before it let any human do such a thing again.
Page didn’t notice any of that.
All they saw were the horseshoes nailed to bottom of the creature’s hooves, painfully crippling it by forcing it to pretend it was something it would never actually be.
The stablehand knelt in the mud.
“I don’t want to hurt you, but that burn needs tending. Blood’s a’running into your eyes and ‘ya won’t get far with those blasted things on. I don’t have much. I don’t know how much help I can be. But I can at least give ‘ya somewhere to rest for the night while we try to sort things out and get ‘ya free.”
“Why?”
The question blew through Page’s mind light a mighty rushing wind though no words were spoken in the fading darkness.
“I’ve been hurt. Hell, I’m late as it is and I’ll probably be hurt for this. Always wished somebody would come along and help me out, even if just a little. Figure today I can do something for you.”
With that, the creature’s eye grew bright instead of glaring. Limping softly, it followed Page out of the glade.