Chapter 1 - From Above He Came

It was a sunny yet cold winter day when I first saw him fall from the sky. A blizzard had been ravaging the forest in which I live as relentless wind howled for three days uninterrupted.

That was a day I can remember so distinctly in my mind. After spending those long cold days trapped in my cabin, I was in need of both food and the feeling of sunlight on my face. I wanted to check my rabbit traps I set nearly a week ago, as the storm made it impossible once the ferocious whiteout started.

Except, when I opened the door, a wall of snow about 6-feet high greeted me. Unable to reach my shovel from the shed 20-feet away from my cabin, I improvised and used a wooden bowl to dig. I spent at least half-an-hour scooping snow, trying not to allow it into my home. But with nowhere else for it to go during my excavating, much of it made its way in.

Once I finally dug the most rudimentary set of stairs I possibly could, I made my way up to the top. With snow shoes, I walked another half-hour to where I set the traps, a walk that took a third of the time during summer months.

The sky was clear, not a cloud above. As if all of what was left up there had fallen down to the ground beneath it. Having nothing more to give, it left behind an endless sheet of bright blue.

After reaching where I set my traps, I was met with the realization that they were buried deep beneath the snow the storm had brought. Not only that, it was difficult to pinpoint exactly where they were. Even if I did start digging, there was no telling how long I would be digging for until I had finally found them. In defeat, I knelt down and looked up to the sky, soaking in the sunlight I had gone so long without.

And for him, it's best I did. Without sound, I saw in the distance, a barely clothed man plummeting from the heavens above. It happened in an instant, but I saw his arms and legs were limp, his neck craned forwarded as he fell back-first toward the ground. As his body passed behind the tall trees I could faintly hear the crackling of branches nearly 500-feet away.

At first, I didn't believe what I saw. How did a man, a human, fall from a place unreachable by mankind? I sat in shock for a few moments, questioning if I should believe in my own sanity, or at the very least, my own eyes. I toiled with the thought for some time before finally deciding, I may as well at least go and find out if what I saw was truly there.

For another quarter of an hour I trudged through the white blanketed forest with my snowshoes in the direction I saw him falling, passing through towering, leafless maple trees before coming to a wall of evergreens.

I knew I was close, but there was some struggle in determining exactly where he had fallen. Stepping through the tightly packed spruces, I felt the needled branches flicking snow as my fur coat brushed against them. It was a maze, but after living in this forest for nearly a decade I knew it well — in the summer months that is. With this much snow I was at least 6-feet higher than what I was be used to.

After wading through the deep snow and trees for another quarter hour I was ready to give up, assuming I had truly gone insane. And just as I did, I spotted a column of broken branches 20-feet away.

Cautiously, I approached. The snow below was disturbed and the branches from top to bottom — some a finger-length thick — were split, exposing the bright orange wood. It was clear, something had fallen there. As I neared the spruce tree, I saw nothing but a pale-fleshed hand raised out of the pit of funneled snow. It was exceptionally slender, but still masculine.

A man well and truly fell from the sky, I thought to myself, How?

I removed the leather mitten on my right hand and knelt down, hesitating to touch the hand of a man I assumed to be dead. My hand met his ice-cold fingers for a brief moment. Afterward, I held our palms together for a little longer, trying to gauge if there was any ounce of warmth left in it. Any sign of life. I couldn't tell, so I dug down to his wrist, intending to check for a pulse.

Part of myself wished he was dead. That way I would have no obligation to save him, no duty to once again take care of a sick and injured man.

My middle and index fingers pressed into his cold, thin wrist and I waited in angst.

Nothing.

I adjusted my fingers and pressed a little harder, just to be sure I wasn't leaving a live man alone to die.

I thought I felt flicker against my fingertips and immediately pulled my hand away in alarm. I doubted the possibility of a human surviving such a drop. So I reached my hand out to check again.

There it was. I didn't pull away this time. It was ever so faint, but there was surely a pulse of a living being.

Hurriedly I removed one of my snow shoes and used it to dig. I followed his arm and dug as gently, but swiftly as I could. Slowly, uncovering a forearm. Then an upper arm. And next a bare, but well-defined, chest.

With my ungloved hands I slowly pulled away the snow to reveal a sharp jaw. Next I wanted to expose his mouth and nose to allow him air. Upon uncovering them, his lips were purple and nose sharp and pointed. Digging more to the top of his head, my hand felt fabric, what at first I assumed to be some kind of head garment, but quickly found to be a piece of cloth tied around his head, covering his eyes. Further I sifted into the snow to discover more of his face and found the lightest color of blonde hair I had ever seen, nearly the color of the frost that encased it.

I stopped only for a moment to see if he was breathing, bringing my ear close to his mouth. A gentle, cool breath left his mouth and that was enough to tell for certain he was still alive.

Once I excavated the entirety of the right side of his body I thought for a moment if I could even lift this man. While he was slim, he was still far taller than me. I didn't think I could carry him, so I considered going back to my cabin to find a sled. But soon I came to fear he would be dead by the time I returned. I'll try, I told myself before I made the effort to lift him.

I dug until both arms and legs were exposed, finding the bone of his left upper arm and his left jaw were broken along with a branch lodged in his left calf as he fell on top of it. At the time, I wasn't able to tell how deep the wound was, but later found the branch made it nearly half way through.

With three sticks and two strips of leather off my coat I splinted his left arm. For the hole in his lower leg, I whittled away at the branch, fearing if it was removed now he might bleed out. With the wood still lodged in his leg, I wrapped it with the fabric from my carrying sack to prevent any further blood loss. The jaw would have to wait.

I readied myself to pull a full grown man from the snow, putting my my hands beneath his arms. With a big breath, I pulled, but he wouldn't budge. Oddly, his body seemed lighter than I expected, but it felt like his back was stuck in the deep snow. I feared the worst, thinking a branch may have been stuck in his back.

However, when I rolled him over I was met with a sight I cold never have foresaw. Protruding from his back were two feathered stumps, bloodied at the ends. Are these wings? I asked myself, an angel?

At that time, I had only heard stories of angels. Many believed they existed, but just as many doubted, myself included. I had never seen one until that moment. I once met a man who had claimed to, but he was old and I thought senile. Maybe not.

This moment made me once again question if I could trust what my eyes were seeing. I removed my mitt and reached out my bare hand to touch one — it surely felt the feathers of a bird.

I tried to collect myself, but the shock weighed on me. The realization that this man might die if I did not save him was the only thing that broke my mind from the trance.

And so I tried again to lift him from under his arms only to find further surprise at his weightlessness. He must have been at least half the weight I expected. It was a strange sensation to be lifting a full-grown man with such ease. That must be the magic of angels, I thought. I managed to get his arms over my shoulders, his chest against my back. It was the only way I could think of to carry him, but it left his feet dragging in the snow due to our difference in height.

Despite his levity, the trek back to my cabin was arduous. The sweat that formed on my brow was quickly chilled by the freezing temperatures. Each breath became heavier. Each step strained the muscles in my legs. It didn’t take long for the exhaustion to reach me. But I persevered and marched on.

Eventually, I came to the front of the cabin, realizing I would have to carry this angel’s full weight with me down the steps of snow I carved out earlier. I took the first step only for it to immediately collapse beneath my foot. I made every attempt to catch myself, but between his weight and mine stomping down on the soft snow, the stairs collapsed, turning into a ramp that sent us sliding. As we did, I threw my arms around my head, trying to brace myself as we crashed into the front door of my cabin.

We slammed into the door, and I quickly felt the pain of my left arm and left knee that received the brunt of the damage. The weight of his body pressing me against the door reminded me I didn’t have time to worry about my mild discomfort. I have to get him inside, I recall thinking to myself. At that moment, I was thankful he was passed out, for that tumble surely would have been excruciatingly painful in his already injured state.

Ignoring the pain, I heaved his body and mine to stand myself up. Once up, the pain in my knee quickly pulsed with acute pain. I steeled myself as I unlatched the door and pushed it open. I limped as I dragged his light, but still heavy body to my bed. As I came to its side, I rolled his body off my shoulder and onto the covered straw bed. I exhaled deeply as his weight came off of me.

For a few minutes, I couldn’t help myself by to simply stare that man, the angel, in all his beauty. Never before had I seen skin so pale, nor hair so blond. It was captivating. My eyes could not pull away until I finally persuaded myself there would be more time to admire as I nursed him back to proper health.

Cold wind swooped in through the door, calling me to close it. With my sore knee, I limped over and closed it shut, sliding the steel latch to keep it so. The quiet came back as my mind eased, leaving me to believe the worst of it was over.