In the end, you reach the shores of a river.

Its waters are green and full of life, with roaring white rapids that bring down everything in their path. A deer is drinking and, for a moment, it raises its head and looks at you, nose twitching. The kid stands still and you look at him. Will he strike the animal?

As a star, you do know that it is not your place to judge. Your duty is to watch and listen, not to talk and act. However, for a brief moment, you feel sorry for the poor animal. You were also living your life, flying through the sky, when the Star Hunter's spear struck you.

But the boy doesn't seem to do anything, looking at the animal with deep respect and wonder in his eyes.

Then, he turns back at you and notices your staring. He smiles, his cheeks darkening.

He then scratches his nose and looks at the water.

You tilt your head in confusion. He shares the same expression with those humans when they had done something they thought they shouldn’t have. You think the Earth’s gifts are for everybody to see, so you do not understand why gazing at a deer should be forbidden.

But the kid seems eager to let that go as he approaches the water.

You approach the shore too: it won't be possible to swim to the other side. The current is too strong, the roaring deafening your ears, while splashes of water hit your feathers in droplets of cold.

It is a curious sensation. You always knew of water and flew over large masses, dark as the night and vast as the sky, but you never touched it.

You dip your claw in the river. It is cold. Very cold.

But, somehow, it is a familiar cold, like the one you feel while in the sky.

For a brief moment, you wonder if there are stars underwater. Forgotten sisters and brothers that live in an opposite world to the one you are used to.

You squint your eyes, but the depths of the river give you no answers.

You look at the other side. You have to find a way to cross the river. Of course, flying is not an option. Even if you were able to glide from a treetop to the other side, there is no way your broken wing can sustain the boy too. One look at him suggests that he is deep in thought.

You put your arms under his armpits, and he shrieks in surprise. You try to raise him and he looks at you, wide-eyed.

He is heavier than you expected. You put him back down.

The kid stays still for a moment, before a chuckle escapes his lips. He shakes his head, before he points at the trees behind you. In particular, his finger is pointed towards one of them, its long branches reaching out above the water. It is not long enough to use it as a bridge to the other side, but you see one vine stretching downward.

Use the vine as a way to cross the river? You play the possible outcome in your mind: it could be long enough. The boy motions with his hand and starts climbing the tree. You thank whoever has protected you until now for your brief experience in climbing: you cannot handle another snicker from your companion, if you were to fall down.

You reach the long branch with ease and position yourself to avoid another fall. The kid stretches his arms and starts walking with shaky steps, the tip of his boot touching the branch before continuing. You stand at the base of the branch, looking at him with attentive eyes. He trembles a bit, before crouching down to reach the vine. He looks at you and nods. You tilt your head in confusion.

He shows his hand. It seems to be closed in a fist, but the thumb is upwards. You have no idea what that means. He starts pulling the vine up, until he has it in his hands. He then looks at the shore ahead and walks back towards the base of the branch, near where you are, before taking another deep breath and nodding to himself.

He then jumps off, vine in hand: you stand up, eyes wide and wings slightly open in instinct, but the pain soon reminds you of your state. The branch bends, curves, and you watch the kid as he hovers over the edge of water, the vine swinging towards the other side, holding tight. He sways back and forth for some time, the creak of the branch ever stronger, the arc the kid is making in the air ever longer.

He jumps at the end, landing on the rocky shore beyond.

He brushes his legs off and turns around, showing you a big grin and, once again, the fist-with-an-upraised-thumb gesture.

You look down. The river keeps running, unrelenting. It is similar to your kind, in a sense: ever moving following a certain path. Your limbs tremble and you cannot make them stop. This irritates you, as you need to reach the other side no matter what.

The kid is looking at you, waving his arms up above his head. If you had your wings, this would have been a breeze.

On the other hand, if you had your wings, you wouldn’t be in this situation.

This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

You steel yourself on the branch, claws scratching the bark in determination, and grab the vine. You pull it upwards until a bundle of green and leaves is in your claws. You look at the rocky shore once more, the roaring of water engulfing your ears.

Your limbs are still trembling. And you realize that what you feel is fear.

Falling shouldn’t be your enemy. You are a creature of the skies and falling is not possible, when you can fly. But, right now, you are just like one of the humans that would share their fears with your kind.

You take a deep breath. Your limbs don’t stop trembling. The roaring of water surges through your ears and reverberates in your body. The smell of leaves and humidity suffocates you.

You open your eyes. The kid is waving his arms. You walk back to the base of the branch, as he did earlier.

You jump, holding tight onto the vine. The tips of your feet touch the water, but you don’t react, moving your body as you saw the boy do earlier, swaying back and forth above the water. The branch curves and a horrendous creak reaches your ears. For a brief moment, you find it fascinating how the sound seemed to come from a place higher than the roaring of water, despite the latter being an explosion around you.

You start swaying. The kid yells words you do not understand but, somehow, you feel his energy. He is cheering for you. You do not dare look down at the roaring waters and instead focus your gaze on the rocky shore that awaits your arrival. You sway. The branch creaks.

You sway once more, your feet leave a trail on the waters, and the branch creaks once more.

You tilt all your weight frontwards and prepare to jump. Above you the branch wails.

You have no time to look up that you fall once more and your body hits the water, followed by the branch and the vine.

The water is cold. It’s so very cold and it makes your body way heavier than it already is. Your feathers are hugging your body tight and you feel like you’re going to suffocate. The current pulls you away, and you are going under.

You are aware of people able to move in the water as if it was their element, using their limbs to propel themselves through it, exactly like fish. But the water is not your element and it has never been. You briefly wonder if the stars that inhabit the depths of the river will help you, despite being a different kind.

Above you, the sun creates a circle of light. He is not your patron and that is probably why He has forsaken you. You are not His child. The ancestral laws of the world are not to be broken and you do understand His reasoning.

The muffled voice of the kid comes from above. You could barely understand him above water but now it is impossible to do so. His emotions are distant and you do not know what he is doing.

The reality of death sneaks upon you like a hunter. But fear has drained you of all your energy and you feel yourself withering. The current pulls you down and the light runs away from your eyes, when you hear something hit the water.

A shadow approaches you from above and something grabs your claw. They pull you towards them and the air from above hits your head. You gasp and blink, the world is filled with lights and sounds and you do not understand what’s happening, but something is grabbing you with all their strength and pulling you towards the shore. A voice is uttering words you do not understand, but their worry and fear is palpable and so close that you cannot help but feel them yourself.

It takes you a moment before you realize that you have reached the shore. Your body gasps for air, it is cold and heavy and the pebbles beneath your claws hurt you.

But you are safe. You are still alive.

You raise your head to see who saved you, and the grain-colored hair of the kid greets your eyes. His clothes have darkened and he is wet exactly like you and gasping for air. He raises his gaze to meet yours and smiles.

He has saved your life. Again.

Twice now you are still alive because this stubborn kid really wants to help, for some reason.

A warm feeling surges in your chest and you realize it is gratitude with a hint of affection.

Only one star has ever befriended a human. You briefly wonder if you can do that, too.

The kid approaches you, worry in his eyes. You raise one arm and close your claw. Your fist does not look like his and you lack a proper thumb, but you raise the upper claw anyway, and show it to the boy.

He looks at your hand and tilts his head, but then his eyes widen in realization and he chuckles, nodding. He raises his own fist-with-an-upwards-thumb and smiles.