Forest

In the quiet misty morning
When the moon has gone to bed
When the sparrows stop their singing
And the sky is clear and red

When the summer's ceased its gleaming
When the corn is past its prime
When adventure's lost its meaning
I'll be homeward bound in time

Bind me not to the pasture
Chain me not to the plow
Set me free to find my calling
And I'll return to you somehow

If you find it's me you're missing
If you're hoping I'll return
To your thoughts I'll soon be listening
And in the road I'll stop and turn

Then the wind will set me racing
As my journey nears its end
And the path I'll be retracing
When I'm homeward bound again

Bind me not to the pasture
Chain me not to the plow
Set me free to find my calling
And I'll return to you somehow

In the quiet misty morning
When the moon has gone to bed
When the sparrows stop their singing
I'll be homeward bound again

In the forest, one can sing. I mean, honestly, the acoustics are great.
And in the forest, I am alone. Or at least, I thought I was alone.
I sing "Homeward Bound" because it reminds me of home. Mum used to sing it to Izzy and I when we lived in London, and then we used to hear her singing it faintly to Goerges and Gem when we lived in Montreal.
And so I sing.
At first I didn't know about my little audience, but the third time I was out there singing the boy made himself known by joining in on the fourth stanza. From then on, every afternoon that I wasn't teaching I'd meet the mysterious boy in the clearing and we'd sing "Homeward Bound". And eventually Reuben became curious about where I was going and followed me into the forest. He stayed out of sight behind some undergrowth and eventually he was joined by Rose and Helene. The next time the group was joined by Michael and Kris, and the time after that Goya and Max came as well. Someone told Henry and she brought Angie.
Our audience kept growing, and eventually Goya and Michael asked if we could perform in the tavern. It was at this time that the audience revealed themselves, stepping out from behind trees and bushes, completely and totally curious. Then the boy spoke for the first time.
Did you invite them? He asked.
I shook my head, pointed to Reuben. He just follows me a lot.
Reuben snorted. Yeah, sure, whatever.
The boy laughed and I joined in.
Eventually the boy spoke again. I cannot come into Slovia, I would have to ask my Master first, and he'll probably say no. This clearing is half in Slovia and half in Yukon, that's why we come from opposite directions.
I nodded. He never goes past that root.
But can't I move him over here? Reuben asked. He teleported across the border, next to the boy.
Hug him, I said. The boy hesitantly hugged Reuben and he concentrated. I held my breath. When Reuben tried to come across, the boy remained where he was.
Interesting, Reuben said. He's got too many chains, I'll need more power. Papa?
Michael shook his head. I believe Ruthie is strongest, son.
Reuben hesitated, and I could see the thought running through his mind; he was debating whether to ask the people to come here and risk discovery or to risk me and be sure no one was discovered, but worried what the boys master would think, knowing it was more than likely the master would forget the boy would ever exist, but still worried about the small chance he wouldn't forget about him, and he was also worried about where the boy would go once he was free.
Don't worry about me, I want to free him, I insisted, running to Reuben and wrapping my arms around his waist. Do it.
And so Reuben's muscles tightened and we were standing next to the boy. I walked toward him, Reuben close behind. Carefully, I wrapped my arms around the boy and Reuben wrapped his arms around the both of us. Soon we were standing on the other side of the border, and Reuben picked me up when my knees weakened, but the boy insisted on carrying me as partial payment for freeing him.
When we touched as free people, wings sprouted from my back, and from his. My pure white wings completely contrasted with that of the boys ebony feathers.
And the boy told me then, You're the angel I was sent to retrieve. When you stumble, I'm the one who catches you.
I nodded, too tired to do anything more. And then the boy lifted off, flying low, but also high enough that my wings didn't touch the ground. When we landed by the tavern a few minutes later I folded and unfolded my wings, stretching.
I didn't know you were an angel, Reuben said when he got back to the tavern.
I grinned. Me neither.
She's lying, the boy said. She knew she was an angel, she just didn't believe it until now.
Why are your wings black? I asked.
I'm marked, he said. My father was a demon, and my mother was half angel half demon, and I happened to receive black genes from both of them.
I nodded.
Do you have a name? Reuben asked.
No, I was a slave not worthy of a name, but I always wanted to be called Zuriel. You know, the angel of harmony, he said.
Well, Zuriel, welcome to Slovia, Reuben said, opening the door. I followed him in, folding my wings tight against my back. Zuriel did the same, making sure to hold the door for the person behind him. Reuben sent people to spread the word that we'd all be gathering in the underground common room. I took Zuriel's hand as we descended the stairs to guide him in the dark, and when we reached the hallway I let go. Zuriel and I followed Reuben to the common room.
When we entered Reuben sent us up to the front of the room, and we faced each other as we usually did.
Eventually everyone had arrived, and the room was packed. There were no microphones, so everyone was deadly silent. Reuben nodded to us, and I took a deep breath.

In the quiet misty morning
When the moon has gone to bed
When the sparrows stop their singing
And the sky is clear and red

When the summer's ceased its gleaming
When the corn is past its prime
When adventure's lost its meaning
I'll be homeward bound in time

Bind me not to the pasture
Chain me not to the plow
Set me free to find my calling
And I'll return to you somehow

If you find it's me you're missing
If you're hoping I'll return
To your thoughts I'll soon be listening
And in the road I'll stop and turn

Then the wind will set me racing
As my journey nears its end
And the path I'll be retracing
When I'm homeward bound again

Bind me not to the pasture
Chain me not to the plow
Set me free to find my calling
And I'll return to you somehow

In the quiet misty morning
When the moon has gone to bed
When the sparrows stop their singing
I'll be homeward bound again