I stood up, pulling down the dress I wore, noting the many stains and tears in the fabric. I sensed movement behind me and I spun, looking down at the animal.
And stood there staring in shock.
There was no longer a fur-covered beast with threatening claws and angry eyes before me. No. In its place was a man. A man with short, matted hair and a dirty face.
He had my dagger sticking out of his chest.
Very carefully, I knelt, feeling for a pulse, every muscle in my body taut and ready for another fight. But there was no pulse to be found. There would be no more fighting this day. He was dead. Of course, I’d heard of shifters, of their evil and blood-thirsty nature, but this was the first time I’d ever encountered one.
Is this what the Guardians did when they came to Earth? We all knew they were fighters, we all knew they banished dark and twisted souls from this world, but I guess I’d never really thought about what kind of evil they were banishing. In that moment, I felt very naïve and silly. As an angel whose job was merely to spread the kindness and love of God, I’d been ill prepared for this encounter.
Perhaps my procrastination hadn’t been the Lord’s work. Perhaps this was my punishment. I looked down at the blood on my hands. I never had to kill anything before. Yes, I carried a dagger because Earth was so unpredictable and primal, but I’d certainly never really thought I would have to use it.
I walked back toward the stream, wanting to wash the blood from my skin and yearning the peaceful sound of the water rushing to nowhere. When I made it to the edge of the hill, I looked down. The place I left was unchanged. It hardly seemed fair that it looked exactly the same when I felt irrevocably different.
I used my wings to float down, my bare feet resting on a moss-covered log as I curled the wings in close and veiled them once more. It wouldn’t do for someone else to happen upon me and see them.
I stepped toward the water’s edge and knelt, allowing the water to caress my fingers before plunging both hands into the icy stream and watching the red completely disappear. There was a splash to my left and I turned my head, expecting to see a jumping fish. It wasn’t a fish.
It was a man.
His eyes were locked on mine, and I watched as he set down the fishing pole he’d been holding and walked unsteadily across the stream toward me.
“Are you okay?” the man called as he drew near.
I stood, thinking about fleeing, not wanting any more contact with anyone else. As an angel, my contact with humans was supposed to be limited. Just as I was about to rush away, the man splashed to my side. Droplets of cool water splattered my legs, and I stepped backwards.
“I’m not going to hurt you,” he said, holding out his palms and keeping his voice low.
“I’m fine. Thank you for asking,” I said, glancing up to the top of the hill. I was so very tempted to release my wings and fly away. Instead, I turned away to walk farther downstream where I’d be out of sight.
“You’re bleeding,” the man said, catching my wrist and pulling me back around.
I snatched my arm away, rubbing where he touched me. The skin was tingling.
“Your shoulder… Did you fall?” he asked, his eyes affixed to the area he mentioned.
I glanced down at my shoulder and realized I was, in fact, all bloody. Probably from where the beast dug in his claws. A glance closer showed that the wound was already healed, but it was so bloody the man couldn’t tell. I realized he was waiting for me to respond so I smiled.
“Yes, I slipped on the rocks, but it looks much worse than it is. I’m fine.” God, forgive me for my lie.
“Let me help you,” the man offered, pulling off the red plaid shirt he wore unbuttoned over a white T-shirt and holding it out.
I made no move to take it, but I didn’t step back either and so he stepped forward to cautiously lay the folded up shirt against my wound. His bare hand wrapped around my shoulder as his other gently pressed the shirt in place. He had rough skin. It brushed over the bareness of my shoulder and reminded me of the bark covering the tree that I’d been lying on moments ago. His hand was warm and large, covering the entire back of my shoulder.
“Does that hurt?” he asked, his voice hushed.
I glanced up at him. Our faces were close and I could see his every detail. He had a slightly crooked nose, a chip in one of his front teeth, and dark stubble lining his jaw. His hair was long and very dark, confined at the nape of his neck by a rubber band, and when he shifted, a thick, wavy strand escaped and fell forward to brush against his cheek.
“Really, I’m fine,” I said, and suddenly I felt like the butterflies I was watching earlier somehow made it into the pit of my stomach and were trying to break free. The feeling caused me to step backward, my hand coming up to hold the shirt in place. I wasn’t used to feelings like this. Was it normal? I didn’t think it was. Usually, my emotions were calm and even. I felt anything but calm at this moment.
“Do you need to go to the doctor? I can take you,” he offered.
“No, that isn’t necessary. I’ll clean this up at home. I should go,” I said, stepping away.
This time he made no move to stop me. I resisted the urge to turn and look back because I could feel him watching me. Finally, I made it around a bend in the stream and slipped behind a tree, knowing I was completely out of sight. I unfolded my wings, shaking them out, and lifted myself into the air. I loved the weightlessness, the way my feet touched nothing, how I wasn’t anchored to anything except myself and the joy of flying.
I made a wide arc around the stream so the man below wouldn’t see me, and then I lowered myself into the forest, close to where I’d been with the shifter. In the shock of what I’d done I left my dagger behind and wanted to collect it before I went home. I walked for what felt like hours, but really it was probably only minutes. Time here on Earth had a way of dragging for me. In heaven, time was irrelevant, unmeasured, and nothing felt like it went on for too long.
I began to wonder if I was in the right place. Nothing looked disturbed and I didn’t see the body. But then I came upon the spot where he fell, and there were tracks in the dirt. I followed them, marveling at how far the beast and I had actually rolled. When the marks on the ground stopped, so did I. I looked down, but there was nothing there. So I turned, remembering we had rolled once more, bracing myself for the sight of the body.
But it was a sight I wouldn’t see.
I could have told myself I was in the wrong place. But that would have been a lie. There in the grass and curling leaves were spots of blood, blood that was still fresh…