Extraction In The Witcher

Abel picked a piece of meat out from between his teeth. He held it between his thumb and forefinger, inspecting it. 

"Bloody squirrels." He cursed, flicking away the leftovers from a previous meal. The howling winds swept up the morsel in an instant and threw it back down towards the earth. Abel's wings were spread wide, gliding effortlessly on the currents high above the land. He loved to ride the currents and listen to the shrieks and howls of the wind, only when he was soaring high in the sky could he truly feel safe. 

It was nighttime. Abel only travelled at night, using the clouds and the darkness to hide his monstrous figure. In the daytime he rested in treetops or unreachable caves, far from the prying eyes of mankind. 

On his journey through the wilderness over the past few days Abel had encountered several monsters. They dwelled in lofty mountains and craggy valleys, hunting whatever they could to survive. Nekkers howled their war cries as they slashed at deer with their putrid claws, strange and huge insectoid beasts burst out from swamps, fearlessly taking on bears and lynxes. 

Abel observed these things from high above, watching on fearfully. With every day that passed his resolve to stay far away from danger grew stronger. 

Suddenly he spotted something in the distance, "Light." 

Abel's pupils dilated rapidly, his yellow irises reflecting the glow of fire in the distance. The glow of flames was unmistakable in the dark night. Abel flapped his wings and flew higher into the clouds, always remaining in the pockets where the clouds were densest. He came to a halt about a mile away from the village, floating almost motionless in the air. 

The village looked small, Abel estimated that it couldn't hold more than a hundred people. A tall and large building resembling a hall had been constructed in the center of the village. The glow of fire from inside the building was like a raging flame compared to the faint candlelight in the surrounding houses. 

Abel felt a wave of excitement at the thought of seeing his own kind again. His heart soon dropped as he remembered that he could no longer show himself in the open. 

After observing the village for several minutes Abel sighed. He cast a longing look at the houses and then with a turn of his wings he allowed the current to carry him onwards. Soaring like a comet through the night sky Abel flew faster and faster, embracing the ferocity of the current. In his eyes a deep anguish clashed with a burning anger. Unable to find comfort amongst his own kind Abel turned to the skies for solace, cutting through the clouds faster than he had ever flown. The wind whipped at his ears, nature's roaring cries mirroring the anger in his heart. 

Abel flew madly, the only thought in his mind was to go faster. Tears pricked at his eyes and his teeth were gritted so hard that they dug into his lips. Blood dribbled out and stained the bottoms of his teeth red. 

Abel didn't know how long he had flown for nor what distance he had covered, but eventually the anguish in his chest started to fade. A heavy tiredness settled on his eyelids and his wings and shoulders throbbed painfully. The strain of flying at such high speed finally made itself known. 

On the horizon a hint of golden light started to show signs of rising. Without realizing he had flown into the early hours of the morning. Abel sighed at his reckless emotional outburst, the feelings of isolation and anxiety he'd been bottling up over an entire lifetime seemed to have poured out all at once. 

A lone tree on the grassland caught Abel's eye. Without any competitors for nutrients or sunlight the tree had grown wildly, its branches were broad and its leaves were so dense that he could barely see through the gaps between them. 

Abel circled around the tree several times, checking in every direction for signs of human habitation or the presence of any monsters. After a thorough check and finding nothing for dozens of miles he felt secure enough to land. 

Sleeping in the treetops felt like second nature to Abel. His body was acutely in tune with the rhythms of nature, the fear of falling out of the tree didn't even occur to him, he simply knew that it would not happen. His instincts guided him to the strongest and most shielded branches, ones that even the fiercest winds could not damage. 

Abel closed his eyes and crossed the tips of his wings over his body, using the warm feathers as a blanket. Thoughts of the people he had met across two lifetimes accompanied him as he drifted off to sleep. 

The next morning Abel awoke to the sound of birdsong. His yawn startled the pair of doves resting in the branches below and they flew off squawking noisily. Abel watched the way the doves flew, staring at their small wings and comparably fat bodies. He stretched out a wing, inspecting his own shiny and thick feathers. A sense of satisfaction arose in his heart and he nodded contently. 

"Now that's a proper wing." He said happily, laughing at his own humor.

In the distance Abel spotted a few wild horses grazing on the grassland. He had raced horses a few times before, curious to compare the speed of his flight to their gallop. Even the fastest horses were no match for his wings. Within the same length of time he could fly double the distance of a horse's gallop. He had even swooped down to frighten them a few times, causing the creatures to panic and gallop even faster. Still, they were unable to even get close to his feathers. 

Abel stretched lazily, his wings mirroring the actions of his arms. With a gentle flap of his wings he was lifted into the air. He then set about finding breakfast. 

On the open grassy plains Abel was able to maximize the advantages of his wings. He would find a suitably large stone and carry it high into the air. Then he would fold back his wings and plummet from the sky like a shooting star, moving so fast that the world became a blurred kaleidoscope of color. At the last possible moment Abel would spread his wings wide and release the stone from his grasp. 

The humble stone became a lethal weapon, slamming into the earth like some kind of divine judgement and pulverizing anything it touched. Although he considered himself a generally peaceful person, Abel couldn't help but imagine himself soaring high above the Nilfgaardian armies, raining down stone missiles upon their heads. Only sorcery could stand against the incredible combined strength of gravity and his wings. 

"I mustn't let those cunning mages get close." Abel muttered to himself. 

Chaos was all-powerful, it ran through the essence of every living thing. Sorcerers and sorceresses wielded god like power, a wave of their hand might be able to claim Abel's life before he could even flap his wings. 

Abel descended from the skies, plucking a handful of ripe pears from a secluded grove. He spoke absent-mindedly to himself, proclaiming his love for the anti-magic material dimenterium and asking the fates to be kind to him and perhaps allow him to chance upon a dragon's damage-resistant scale. 

"Bloody mages." Abel said resentfully.