neonthewrite:

“Bowman, dude, come on out, I’ve got something for ya.” 

Using his actual name was unusual. Bowman narrowed his eyes, unsure if he wanted to come out or force the human to reach in and start moving stuff, like he usually did when he got impatient.

“Come on, Bowman, you’ll like this one, I swear. I think it’d be good for you to get some fresh air outside, and this’ll help,” the human called.

Bowman’s heart fluttered oddly in his chest. He almost didn’t recognize the hopeful longing for what it was. He hadn’t had a reason to hope for any leeway in so long.

neonthewrite:

On restless days, Bowman had nothing to do but fly back and forth in the cage. He had a few feet to dart in one direction before he had to kick against the wall and turn around. Then he’d fly to the other side and repeat the process.

Back. And forth.

Day. After day. After day.

neonthewrite:

A quiet instinct ran in the blood of any wood sprite. Prey instincts. Anything that could overpower him so easily could eat him. Bowman’s wings spasmed just before Bryce secured a hold around them.

Humans didn’t eat sprites. So he’d heard. Bowman’s heart fluttered in brief terror anyway.

neonthewrite:

Bowman, the wildflowers are blooming!

A happy little voice piped up in his memory, trying to wake him from another sluggish rest. Bowman let the tears fill his eyes and blur the frightening room around as he called up the memory of a pair of bright golden eyes.

Birdie. He hadn’t seen his little cousin in more than a week. By now, everyone back home would assume he’d been caught by a predator, or hurt himself too badly to make it home. He wondered if she waited for him to fly home.

neonthewrite:

He knew what a stove was, and a sink. He knew the unnervingly-uniform rows of cabinet doors hid piles of dishes and things the human would use for cooking and eating. Glass and plastic, in varying colors and sizes, waited behind those walls.

If Bowman wasn’t trapped, stuck there against his will and fearing he might be stuck forever, he might be curious. A small part of him, the fascination that hadn’t quite died, would stare through the colored glass with wonder, would try the dials on the microwave.

neonthewrite:

By the time they reached the final doorway, Bowman was exhausted just from looking at every corner. The human shoved the door open and kicked it closed behind him with a loud slam. Bowman flinched, but his eyes were on the room before him.

“Here we are, little guy,” the human announced. “Home sweet home.”

Bowman scowled over his shoulder. “This is not my home,” he insisted. His wings twitched in a mix of irritation and sorrow. It had been too long since he could fly freely. “It’s just another stupid human box.”

neonthewrite:

Bowman was helpless to stop his other hand snaring one of his wings in a pinch to force it open. It spread out against his will no matter what he did. Eyes the size of his head scanned over the green membrane while Bowman glared defiantly.

The human finally took his gaze off Bowman, but didn’t let go of his wing. “Dude. What do you want for him? I got like forty bucks in my wallet right now.”

neonthewrite:

“Is he okay?” the new human asked.

“Think so,” Bowman’s captor answered. He tilted his hand and Bowman opened his eyes again. “How you feeling, little guy?”

Bowman answered him with a glare.

“He’s fine, look at that face.”

neonthewrite:

Bowman winced as the hand swept him aside in the air before he finally arced away from it. The pain ran up and down his side, spiking in his middle, and the stricken wing fluttered in his daze. He couldn’t stop the fall.

He was falling.

No sooner had he realized the heart-skipping fact than he’d crashed.

neonthewrite:

And then, just as abruptly, he came to a stop in front of a new pair of eyes.

The new human’s jaw dropped and he stared with unmasked fascination. His skin was just as pale as the first human’s, and he was just as wingless. From the looks of things, he had long hair, and it was tied back; Bowman couldn’t see much beyond the face that leaned closer to him, and his shoulders bunched up. He wished he could hide himself in his wings, but he didn’t want to present them to scrutiny, too.

“Dude, holy shit,” the giant breathed, barely more than a whisper. “It moved. It’s real.”