He looks up. It does not occur to him that he is under the same sky as one who is very like him, or that she is looking up at the same time as he is. He contemplates the world as he lays on his back on the hot sand, but doesn’t move. His fall means that he cannot move a muscle, and his body is in pain so total as to be almost unbearable to the average person. But this boy is not average, he knows. His thoughts are as clear as the blue sky he stares at. Footsteps approach him, but he cannot respond to them. His body is lost to him now, only his mind remains. Strong hands reach down and pull his shoulders, hauling him up into a sitting position, then into a standing one. His body is lost to him, but he could swear that he might feel a slight pressure against his back, as if he was being carried on someone elses: back to back. He is either being helped or being taken to his death, he knows. Maybe it's both, he cannot tell. His soft dark green fringe falls into his eyes but he cannot move to brush it away. It is no trouble any more. Nothing matters any more. He is carried away.
The girl lay on the grass with the book open in front of her. Leaning on her elbows with her face in her hands, she read the letters written on the paper with a look of concentration on her face. When the man moved over to her, she didn't pay him much attention. He wasn’t bothered - he knew better than to disturb her while she was studying. She insisted on setting aside a time each day to learn this language he didn’t understand, and he didn't understand her obsessions with it either, but he put up with it because he loved her. He adored her golden and bronze wings, her golden hair and her blue eyes. So while she read, he sat beside her and stroked her hair, plaited strands of it because it was a look she liked. His own white hair complemented her golden hair so wonderfully, it was as though they were made for one another. He occasionally felt uncomfortable here, he wasn’t sure how he came to be here, but he didn't mind really. He smiled down at her. He didn't mind anything as long as he was with her. He continued to stroke her hair lovingly.
When he comes to, he realises he is under a strong light. The light hurts his eyes and makes him shut them again, looking away from the brightness. That is when he realises he can move. The next thing he realises is that his ribs hurt like hell, and he takes a kind of peverse joy from it - it means he can feel pain again, although doubtlessly he will wish it away again in half an hour. He turns his head back again and half-opens his eyes, squinting through his lashes. He thinks he can see someone above him, looking down at him. Then suddenly the lamp is turned off and he can see better. He opens his eyes properly and sees a young man looking down at him. The boy's thick dark red hair mostly covers his eyes, but his face is pale. He looks down at the man on the table and mutters "So, you’re awake then?"
