He had to go.
Everything ethical and rational in him told him he was making probably one of the stupidest mistakes of his life...
But there was nothing ethical or rational about any of things that were making sense enough for him to even think twice about what he was doing. And... By the time he'd done that, he'd already gone.
When the soles of his shoes touched down to the crunchy gravel, he heard the screams before he'd even completely folded his wings. Motions strained, but completely liquid, hard planes of muscle tensed beneath his navy blue shirt, and his dark jeans, the moody oceans of his eyes flickering about the abandoned, main pathway of Hogsmeade. There were a series of curses, and Xaver whirled on his heel, following the low tones. He came about the corner of the building at the same time the male raised the machine, and pulled the trigger, the loud, reverberating crack setting his teeth on edge, and rocking him onto his heels. Xaver blinked, and shook his head, adjusting his eyes as the male raised the gun again, and pointed.
This time, Xaver looked, following the man's line of sight - following the unsteady line of small footprints that had started to weave down the dirt road, through the muddy sludge left from the storm the night before. The led to a tiny figure, nearly engulfed in an enormous black jacket, feet naked and ghostly pale as they made a quick and impossibly path of getaway. Long, raven black hair draped down her back, in a messy tangle, and when she turned to glance at her persuers, the enormous, fear-filled blue eyes were so similar to his mothers, that Xaver stopped, and blinked.
The hard crack of another shot rang out, and snapped him out of it - and the girl jerked, and spun, her head rolling back, and she collapsed, hitting the road, and falling still.
It was a stillness Xaver recognized.
A stillness he feared.
Xaver threw himself into motion, eliminating the distance between them, and another shot rang out, clipping the mud at his heels. He dropped to an ungraceful stop beside her, gravel and mud tearing, and seeping into his clothes, though even as he heard footfalls, behind him, he gripped the girl's shoulder, and rolled her over. Blue eyes that were so like his own stared up at him, silvery tears lining them and staining the creases of her eyes. Blood trickled from the corners of the very small, delicate swell of her mouth, even as she jerked, trying to breath in. Trying for air. She wore a fuzzy, light pink tank top beneath the enormous black coat - though it was now drenched in warm, dark blood, bubbling up, and spilling from the gaping hole that had ripped through her chest.
"Kylie..!"
"Sir, you need to get away!"
"Get out of here!"
They had caught up to him.
Xaver wrapped his arms around the little girl, and drew her to him - and he heard the others gasp as, in finally getting close, they saw his wings.
"He's one of them!"
"Like HER!"
"ONE OF THEM!!"
Xaver's eyes widened and he planted a hand on the ground to push himself up - but another impossibly loud crack sent him spinning, and suddenly, pain exploded in his right wing. He fell over Kylie, screaming, even as they shot at him again, bullets ripping effortlessly through feathers and flesh and bone. He cried out, then gripped Kylie's tank top, and transported them to the only place that came to mind - his back yard.
It was not the easiest of things.
And, his concentration not nearly complete, not the most graceful. They landed with an unceremonious thud, and Kylie hiccuped, blood spilling from her chest, and mouth - and Xaver never stopped screaming, even as he rolled onto his back, twitching, and reaching back, trying to paw at his wing though he could barely move the injured limb enough to see it..
It had been her.
Not Xences.
Her.
But she was dead.
What the hell was going on?!
