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When Bruce woke up, it was dark, the ground underneath him was dirt that had been mud not too long ago, and he was very, very afraid.
Minutes ago, he’d been airborne. Wings spread high as the wind carried him to the forest. He’d been hit; he didn’t know what had hit him, but he’d certainly been hit by something. He sat up, and the first thing he realized is that he had arms. He stared down at his hands, in a mix of shock and horror. He just sat there for a few moments, before it hit him.
He didn’t have wings. There was a stinging pain in his back, like someone had torn daggers down his back and left him for dead.
He tried to glance behind him, but couldn’t see a thing in the night; it hadn’t been like this before. A sob rose in his throat, and he swallowed back his tears, warily trying to get up. Everything hurt. He didn’t remember who he was, he didn’t know where he was. He wanted out of this forest. He could distantly remember flying, feel the wings on his back; it was like they’d been ripped off. He reached up to his face, ignoring the specks of dirt. He didn’t find a beak, he didn’t find any signs of feathers, either. He scanned the area in panic, calling out hoarsely.
“Hello?”
No response, except the distant cawing of birds. He stared up at the moon, before he decided to walk. He found it difficult at first, but got more and more used to it the farther he walked. He didn’t know how much time passed— an hour? Two?— before he reached a village. He snuck around it, grabbing an apple from the (closed) store he saw, having seen it in a bag. He took small bites as he walked.
He walked until sunrise, his feet hurt and his back was killing him and so he rested against a tree, closing his eyes and letting sleep overtake him.
He woke up when he heard the sun was high in the sky, loud cursing interrupting his peace. Bruce saw a young boy, 13, maybe 14, looking away, covering his eyes with his arm. Bruce didn’t say anything, but the brunette tossed him a cloak, or something, and Bruce took it. It made him feel warmer than before, and it seemed like he fit in more.
The boy spoke to him, and it took Bruce a moment to register.
“Who are you?”
Bruce paused, what does he say? That he was a bird and just happened to be human now? No. He just said the first thing he thought of, voice croaky.
“I don’t know.”
“You don’t know?”
“..No.”
“What were you doing in a forest, sleeping—“ naked. “Without clothes?
“Um, I don’t know.”
The brown haired boy sighed, grabbing an arrow from the ground and putting it back in this thing on his back. He started to walk away, and Bruce found himself following, not knowing what else to do with himself. Plus, the boy didn’t seem to mind. Bruce watched him as he hunted, there was a dog trotting after him, too. Bruce swallowed back a sudden wave of nausea as the boy aimed for a bird in the sky; when he hit it, his dog ran to retrieve it.
Bruce followed him until they got to this castle. Then, the boy turned, speaking to him again.
“Are you allowed in here?”
Bruce was hesitant to answer, “I don’t know.” He knew he was repeating himself, but he really didn’t know. He didn’t know anything; where he was, who he was, why he was like this. This was the longest he’d gone without flying.
The boy gave an exasperated sigh, allowing Bruce to follow him again as he went into this big, fancy kitchen; Bruce had never seen anything like it. The boy stashed the meat in a corner with fruits and vegetables, and Bruce was craving the apple from earlier again.
Nobody seemed to notice him, it was weird; the castle was strangely empty.
“Where is everyone?” Bruce said. The boy gave him a weird look.
“You’re weird, did you not know there’s a war going on?”
“Oh,” Bruce said. He continued to follow the boy, who stopped him.
“If you’re gonna be in the castle, you need to busy yourself. Act like a servant or something, Y’know, go wake up griff- prince stagg, if he’s not already awake. And get some proper clothes, if someone sees you with only a cloak on they’ll freak,” the boy said. Bruce nodded, and as the boy walked away, he said, “I- I never got your name.”
“Call me Billy,” he said, waving Bruce off.
Bruce wondered around for a bit, before stumbling across a wardrobe in an empty room. He took a good look around before he opened it, finding fresh clothes. He grabbed some and found somewhere to change, a small dingy bathroom worked surprisingly well for privacy. There was a dirty mirror, and when he looked into it, he nearly scared himself. His hair was a bit dirty and messy, he carefully ran a hand through it, cringing at the feeling of hair instead of feathers. He looked like.. every young boy. His hands were dirty, but that was a problem for later. He stared in the mirror for a long time. ‘Is that really me?’ He thought to himself, before facing away so he could change. He found the clothes fit almost perfectly, except for the shirt, but he cuffed the sleeve so they were at his elbows.
He couldn’t believe he was here, and it almost made him feel a sense of grief. He should be flying, he should be gliding over water, not in some castle far away.
Bruce ran a hand through his hair again, and went to find the prince Billy had mentioned.