The Angel and The Wolf

A young man of sixteen sat shivering in a dark corner of an empty building. This teenager has been through hell and back; he's been ripped and pulled, pushed and torn, cut into pieces, burned and frozen, and finally, left here to take caare of himself. The boy only had the pants he was wearing and the jacket at his side. The jacket he usually wore to hide the marks on his back, the marks now were covered by the glossy, jet-black wings that hovered over him, around him. Tears dripped off his face.1

A wolf, still young enough to be considered a pup but larger than a full-grown german sheperd, watched the young angel with black wings. The wolf stepped out of the shadows, shaking the long, shaggy, silver-white fur. The boy looked up, surprise and anger melting off his face when he saw the wolf. She settled herself around him, letting him use her for warmth. He sighed as the warmth surrounded him. His beautiful wings, those black feathers, he pulled back, making them disappear, hiding his secrets.