Chapter I - The Arc to Another World

"You're fired."

Matthew's heart skipped a beat. Fired?

"What, why?" The boy asked. This was his first job, but he did not act like it was a guaranteed gig. As Matthew's posture fell, the woman across from him slid a paper across the desk to him. It was a termination report already filled out, dated, and signed.

"It's all stated there, please, don't make this harder than it is," Jolene said. She raised a hand to her head, a thumb and finger working on the knot forming between her brows.

"I'm just surprised," Matthew swallowed the lump in his throat. A moment of silence passed ending with the boy clearing his throat. "I suppose I'll get going then." Those words were soft spoken. Matthew did not want to lose his cool. This frustrated him to no end. The door clicked shut behind him, and Jolene released a breath she had been holding.

"Well that went better than I expected," the woman said. An aged hand dug into her blazer's chest pocket from which she produced a pack of cigarettes.

'Gonna need one of these before I call in another...'

Matthew bent over at his cubicle, or what used to be his cubicle. A computer monitor displayed a circular loading bar. It wound around itself as the PC ended its own processes. Slowly shutting itself down after the boy had given it the command. He straightened himself and removed his black tie. Without a need for professionalism anymore he also loosened his shirt by snapping the top three buttons loose.

"Matthew?"

"Yeah, Liz?" He questioned the girl in the cubicle to his left. He knew what she was going to ask about. It was clear what he was going on.

"Are you… leaving?" There it was. The question he'd expected. However, he did not expect to not be the one to answer.

"What does it look like, Liz?" The woman to his right had picked up for him. "Seems our little man quit on us." Matthew chuckled at that. A soft, yet forced smile turned to this woman.

"Nah, Mel, I was fired."

"What, why?"

"No idea," he said, his butt sitting on the edge of his desk. "Jo wouldn't tell me." Matthew brought the back of his hand up to his mouth to cover a yawn. He'd lean back on the desk, reaching next to the distant keyboard to obtain his keys. "It's about time I get going anyways. First night I'll be asleep at a regular time in a while."

Mel pushed out of her seat and approached Matthew. The lady easily had ten years or more on him, but he knew better than to make a conversation out of it. So he didn't really know how old she was. Despite that fact she stood shorter than him just by a couple of inches.

"Well," she started. Mel wrapped her arms around the boy. At his sitting height Matthew was just tall enough for his face to be level with Mel's…

'Oh god,' he thought. 'Not again.'

Mel's hugs were tight, and often done at horrible timing. Or perhaps just when she wanted them to happen. "Don't be a stranger," the woman said. Her voice was gentle, and quiet. The words spoken to Matthew alone. They were also accompanied by a gentle peck on the cheek.

He returned the hug with half as much feeling as she had put into it. He cared about Mel, truly. It just seemed she sometimes went above and beyond platonic. Just one arm came around her, and it remained appropriately placed unlike her own. "I'll try, Mel."

Mel's hug ended, the woman regaining her professional composure. "You had better!" She said, as if scolding him. Matthew laughed it off with an awkward chuckle. His gaze flickered to Liz now. The girl was just about his age, and nowhere near Mel's level of extrovert. Her eyes were averted, a faint blush coloring her cheeks as if they were roses.

"Goodbye, Matthew," Liz said. She did not stand for a hug, neither did she dare think of kissing his cheek.

"Bye, Liz," that was relatively simple. Mel made a bit of a fuss, but leaving was seeming easier than Matthew anticipated. The door to that office room closed behind him. The elevator was silent as always on it's way to him. Whether that was from up or down the thing never made any noise he could hear from the outside. Supposedly that meant it was well maintained. It's slow speed told him another story. Soon enough Matthew stood at the front door to the building housing his ex-employer.

The weather had predicted a storm and as usual they were correct. Heavy rain crashed to the earth. The boy flicked open a pure black umbrella and stepped into the torrent. Matthew reminisced on the old days. Growing up in a tin can of a home. Heavy rain like this relaxed him when it drummed against the hollow foil that made up the roof. The sound that it created against his umbrella was similar, and it soothed his mind.

"Matthew!"

The boy turned to the call and was surprised to see Liz running to him through the rain. "Liz," he started, closing the distance to get her under the aegis of that parasol. "What the hell are you doing?"

"I just… couldn't leave it at goodbye. You were fun to be around. I know you don't want to date people you work with, but since, you know, you aren't my coworker anymore, could we…" Liz's question trailed off, but it was clear.

Matthew laughed, freezing the girl's heart and threatening to bring her to tears. She expected him to say no, but to laugh at her? He did not come off as that kind of guy to her.

"I'm sorry, Liz, I'm not laughing at you," Matthew explained, his free hand rubbing the back of his head. "I just did not expect that to be why you came out here and got soaked." Matthew thought about her request. It was true, they were no longer coworkers. That had really been the only reason he had denied her before. Liz was gorgeous. Fiery red tresses that reached nearly to her petite rear even when it was tied up, as it usually was at work. Freckles dotted her features, and thin glasses adorned her inquisitive and vivid green eyes.

"Uh… yeah, let's do it."

"Really!?"

"Yeah, why not?" The question was rhetorical. Matthew gently took the lady's hand and led her back to the veranda. "Want me to text you to set it up tomorrow?"

"Yeah, I'd like that," Liz's voice was gentler now. The girl's face shares the colorful attributes of her hair. "I'll, uh, be seeing you then!" Liz quickly attacked Matthew with a hug. The boy laughed gently, and returned it.

"See you, Liz, and goodnight."

Matthew was forced to drive slowly. The rain picked up after he left work. Lightning ripped across the sky, thunder blasted through the tree's. The drive had been long and boring. Despite Liz having cheered him up Matthew still decided against music for this drive. How was he going to pay for the date? Even then his date with Liz was not the most important thing he needed money for. Rent was coming up and he was relying on a full time check to not be evicted.

His hand dripped from the wheel. It flicked the lever to activate his left turn signal. Just one car had been behind him on this road. But very few would be turning down this way. Off of the pavement Matthew's truck rolled onto a rough dirt road. It was typically dusty, but tonight it was extra muddy. Forced to slow down further Matthew only moved at a snail's pace. However this road was like a double edged sword. If he drove too fast he could hydroplane, or slide through the mud. Too slow and he could get stuck. His foot never rested on the brakes.

Suddenly, something unexpected happened. A light beamed so bright it seemed as if lightning struck his vehicle. The flash blinded him for a few moments. The force felt as if it lifted the entire truck and dropped it. Tires burst with the impact. Gravel sucked the tail end side to side. Wait, gravel?

"Fuck!" Matthew was scared. It was hard not to be. He was rolling downhill, and fast. The truck spun towards the passenger side when it collapsed into a pothole. The inertia forcing his vehicle to tip over and begin rolling down the road. That seat belt kept him locked in that seat but at this rate it would not help. Glass shattered. Matthew closed his eyes, and guarded his features with both arms.

It did not help.

Glass flew in the air. Shards embedded into the arms that protected his face. But that mild defense was not enough. Another broken panel lodged itself into his neck. That blade-like fragment slicing into his airway. He immediately coughed, making that wound worse. The stress tore it further. Blood would stifle his breath, choking him as the truck finally came to a stop.

Matthew clicked the seat belt out of its lock. He did not realize the thing was holding him in his seat. The boy's head crashed into the roof of the truck. His body toppled to the side. He was barely able to crawl out of the smashed window before his stomach wretched. It tried to repel the endless flow of blood that sunk into it. Vomit mixed with what had already been choking him. Tears streamed down with the rainwater pelting his eyes.

A figure approached him. Heavy footfalls that splashed mud over Matthew's face. He reached a hand up to that figure. Silently begging for help. But what could they do? He was moments from death, and as his sight dimmed this unknown figure stood over him. Death would overtake life, and Matthew faded from existence.

His eyes opened again. There was no figure, and the wreckage of his truck was just gone. The sun beat down on the world around him. Illuminating towering forestry, and a short gravel road that forked into two different paths. In the other direction the boy spotted a village. He lay just on the outskirts of civilization, but that made no sense. Matthew did not live in a village of any sort, and still the road was a cold and stony gravel.

'What the hell…' He thought he was dead at first. It was a surprise to even see light again. Breathing was easy. It felt so freeing after what had happened. No blood to choke him, and no glass to cut him. Matthew wanted to push himself up and stand, but his arms must be numb. He could not feel them or move them. Well, that was fine. He'd just lay here for a while until the feeling came back or someone came down the road.

Apparently it was to be the latter. A rumbling came down that graveled surface accompanied by thumping footfalls. Well in this case it was hoof-falls. It was a shock to Matthew to say the least when his gaze fell upon two horses dragging along a wagon. This was not Amish country, far from it. Who the hell got around using a wagon?

"Daddy!" A girl's voice yelled out in excitement. "It's a chicken!"

'A… chicken?' Matthew wondered what that girl was going on about. He'd already looked around and there was no animal in sight.

"Be careful, Adriel," a man called out as the child jumped off the wagon. The girl approached him, and stood tall over his sight. Her curious gaze stared down into his own confused eyes. But to her they were simply beady little things.

"Can we keep it?" She asked, picking Matthew up and holding him in her arms.

'No...'

"I'm sure he belongs to somebody, honey. We can't just take him."

'No fucking way.'

"Aww, can I hold him on the way to town at least?"

"Of course, but don't get too attached. If we find his owner we need to give him back."

'Why am I a chicken?'

The girl climbed back into the cart with her father. Small, and impossibly chilly hands combed through Matthew's feathers. They would be soothing if this entire situation wasn't what it was. Why, more importantly how? This didn't feel like a dream. It was far too real.

"What did we need to grab while we were in Abingdon, dear?" The man called back to the covered wagon. A woman poked her head out of the curtain. Platinum tresses spilled all around long and pointed ears. Glittering azure eyes fell upon Matthew, a mild look of disgust crossing the woman's features before her attention turned to the man.

"If you want Corialis and Zenisi tonight then we will need flour, and Coria eggs," the woman said. Her voice was tender. Loving, even, to the man holding the reins. That elf's gaze flickered to Adriel and she reached a hand out to her. "Come inside, we will be in town soon," as the girl began to step into the covered back her mother spoke again. "Leave that bird with your father, Xia."

"But…"

"Don't worry, dear," the man said, reaching over and taking hold of Matthew. He set the chicken next to him in its own seat. "I'll take care of him."

"Okay daddy," the girl said. Her tone was full of sorrow. She clearly did not want to give up the chicken.

Adriel hid in the wagon as the horses pulled them into town. It was a fair place, not quite the small village he had been thinking it was. Behind a wooden wall hid rows of homes. Upon a hill to the west sat a manor, and on it's slope more intricate home's rested. The main road led straight into the town's square where an ornate fountain drew Matthew's gaze. It was carved in the shape of a dragon who's trail wrapped around a longsword. It's intimidating head faced the sky, mouth agape and spewing water. Of all avians to become why was this not the creature he had morphed into.

In the direction that the sun was slowly heading for, Matthew's avian eyes spied a peculiar girl who stood taller than most with the aid of high heels. She wore a striped pencil skirt matched by a simple black blazer and white collared shirt. Most odd about her dress was the hat. It's cap pulled high and to a point, the height of it collapsing on itself to seem shorter. Still, there was no mistaking a witch's hat. It's wide brim shaded the woman's eyes, and as that wagon rolled right on through the square Matthew would have sworn she had turned and looked at him.

Normand brought his wagon directly through a lane of stalls all set up in front of what seemed to be repurposed homes. Or perhaps they were hybrid buildings, with a shop on the lower floor and a home above. It's not as if Matthew could explore this bazaar, if it even qualified as one. The things sold here looked to be of little value. General farm town goods like rope, buckets, and pots lined the tables of one ladies stall while produce stocked another.

"Coria egg's and flour…" The man lets his gaze wander. Coria egg's were always hard to find, but flour was all too common. "Maylin will want good flour," the man spoke quietly. Anything besides high quality and she'd likely protest making her familial dish. Poor quality flour would sour the flavor anyways. "Ah, afternoon Uncle!" The man called. He stopped the horses, and climbed down from the cart.

"Normand!" The stall owner spoke to the man. He came around the table, and the men embraced each other. "It's been too long my boy, how are you?"

"Everything has been wonderful, Uncle. What of you, and Auntie?"

"That woman's got a stick in her as," the old man said, stepping back around to his chair with the aid of a cane. "But I love her all the same. That lady of your's keeping you straight?"

"Of course, both of them!" Normand said, raising a hand to the back of his head with an elated laugh. His tone softened as he continued, settling in a comfortable lean against the old man's table. "May and Ari prove to be the blessings I need every day. Tell me, have you gone hunting recently? May asked me to grab some egg's before I head home."

"Hmm, I have… lets see…" The old man pulled out a box and flipped it open. Inside rested seven large green eggs with brown spots dotted over the shells. "Not too many right now, seeing as hunting has been outlawed for now in the name of safety. How's all of them for… Let's do two silver's each. Good?"

"Of course," Normand said, digging into a coin pouch. He settled fourteen coins on the table between him and the older man. "What's this about hunting being outlawed?"

"They say a pack of dire wolves is due to roam through these parts. The University wants them left alone, but of course the Baron doesn't agree so much," the old man said as he collected the silver before sliding the small box to Normand. "He's talking up an idea of forming an 'elite' hunting crew for the beasts to keep folk like us safe."

"Yeah, safe," Normand's voice dripped with a latent animosity. "Safe in our homes so the nobles get to have their fun in a glory hunt."

"That's what it's all about, lad. Keep safe, and get those egg's back to the lady without cracking them!"

"Of course, I'll see you next time Uncle!" The two waved their goodbyes once Normand had climbed back to the seat of the wagon. Urging the horses forward his gaze soon fell to Matthew the chicken. "Oops. I forgot to ask him about you, little one." He said, letting a hand scritch over Matthew's wings.

'Oh my god,' he thought, those wings stretching and a small shiver rolling through his body. 'Why does that feel so good?'

Normand would stop scratching the chicken after a moment. Instead that hand took up the eggs again, and he leaned back to hand them to the girls in the back. Matthew wondered why they hid. So far they had hardly made a sound, if any. He hadn't heard a peep from the wagon besides it's horses and creaking wheels.

"Flour… flour. Oh, afternoon!" Normand called out, waving to a few men unloading crates from another wagon. The white dust littering the floor of the wagon was a prime indicator of what they had been hauling. "You guys selling?"

"Course!" The one on the back of the wagon said. He was of a good height, and decently fit. If packing and loading crates was his full time then of course he would be. Dusty ginger hair was cut short at the top of his head, his masculine features framed with a slightly darker shade of that same red fitted as a beard. "Talk to pops inside, he'll set you up."

"Thanks!" Normand called, pulling the wagon out of the middle of the road. He climbed down, and entered the shop. Those three boys kept stocking crated goods into the back room while he started speaking with the shopkeeper. "Afternoon, Sir."

"Hey there," the man said, settling a quill in an inkwell. "Looking for something specific?"

"Yes, I am. The wife wanted me to grab some fresh flour, and I noticed your boys stocking some. Mind me buying a fresh sack?"

"Sure, I don't mind. It'll just cost a bit more than the older stock."

"That's quite alright, thank you!"

After Normand had gone inside Matthew simply rested in his seat. His chicken head turned each which way, eyes scanning over what he could still see of the bazaar. The stalls still went down the row for a while, but they stopped three buildings up. The road led out to a wall he could not see through, though Matthew doubted it was the end of Abingdon. Atop another hill he could see a windmill surrounded at least on it's left side by a wheat field. Perhaps more sprawled behind the hill that he just could not see from here.

This place is beautiful. He thought. Despite his morphed form, Matthew could not shake a sense of belonging. Of warmth, and comfort. This place was different. The sun shone all the same it seemed, yet he didn't feel averse to it's rays as he had before. Wind blew through his feathers, and it reminded him of a gentle spring breeze he enjoyed during April evenings.

Suddenly a shrill cry tore at his ears. It came from behind. His head spun just as the cloth covering was pulled from the wagon. A would-be thief attempted to sneak in the back, and had fallen out with the tarp in his horrified grasp.

"An Elf witch! It's a witch!" He cried as he untangled himself from the tarp, tearing it as he went.

Matthew was surprised, to say the least. He hadn't thought about the fact this woman was an Elf earlier. Everything had come at him so suddenly that her features were the least of his worries. However it did not seem everyone shared his way of thinking. Many in the bazaar murmured amongst themselves. Talk of a witch come to ruin their harvest or abduct their livestock dripping from the loathsome townsfolk.

The commotion steadily grew. Some people went about their business but others had stopped to look at the woman as if she were some horrific zoo attraction. The insults of her ruining their livelihoods turned now to simple distaste.

"You're kind ain't welcome here!"

"Go back to your forest!"

"Snare your own kin!"

Not long into the crowds gathering did her ignoring of such comments further displease the offenders. One went as far as to fling a tomato at her. The ripe vegetable smashing against her hooded face. Red paste stained the beige silk. He couldn't stand watching this and as those little legs kicked into gear Matthew remembered one of the governing reasons listed on his termination report.

Workplace violence.

Matthew got combative over things he cared about. Especially when the issue dragged on. But this demanded his attention. He did not stand idle for something like this at home, and he would not stand by here.

Running up to the edge of the wagon Matthew battered his wings at the crowd. A loud, piercing cry carried through his beak and resounded off the weather worn shops. Talons scraped against the wood he stood on, and now all eyes were on him.

Maylin's teary eyes would settle on him. Surprise cut across her features at his actions. A chicken was more humble than most of humanity, it seemed. Taunt successful, Matthew thought until their insults fell upon her again.

"That witch is controlling the thing!"

"Cunts really can use magic!"

"It'll bag us all!"

Many were fearful of Maylin and Matthew could not help but wonder why. What must this woman have done to earn the town's resentment? No, that was wrong. These people did not hate her, they hated what she was. Not one had even whispered her name, instead replacing it with derogatory remarks and other insults. Was this sentiment normal everywhere or just this town? So many questions ran through his mind. Matthew's thoughts were yanked towards the father figure as he came running out of the store.

"May!" Normand dropped the flour into the wagon and climbed into the back with his love. "Dammit." He muttered, gentle hands coming to rest on her shoulders. Normand paid no mind to the ill words of the people, even turning his back to those who had spit hate at them. The man was strong, clearly shown by his withstanding of insults slung not just as his woman but also at himself.

"Hag fucker."

"Bewitched bastard."

"Dandelion eater."

"And what the fuck is it to any of ya'?!" The old man from earlier had returned. Stepping between the crowd and Normand's wagon. "How about you cunt's mind your own fuckin' business, eh?!"

"Yeah!" Another voice added into the old man's scolding words. "A fuckin' chickens got more heart than you sorry bastards!" It was one of the shopkeepers boys and his brothers seemed to be in agreement. The three boys grabbed Normands tarp and went about reattaching it for the man.

"I can't thank you enough," Normand said, stepping out of the wagon. His gaze flickered between Uncle and the boys. He bowed to them all, folding his hands together as he continued to thank them.

"Don't worry about it sir, just get that lady back home and treat her good. I'm sure she's feelin' that more than you are," the redheaded boy said before returning to work. Normand turned to Uncle, and thanked him once more.

"These things are bound to happen right now my boy. I'll be around for you when they do, always."

"That means so much Uncle, thank you." It was not Normand who said this, but Maylin. Her soft voice carried out from behind the tarp.

Normand got back into the cart, and Matthew followed him to the front seat. Half of Abingdon's gaze focused on him as he set the horses to a steady pace out of town. The horses each matched the other's trot. Hooves clicked against the brick for a while before the sound changed to crumbling gravel.

Guardsmen wearing chain shirts and wielding the simple combination of sword and shield allowed Normand to pass without a hassle. Condescending eyes weighed heavy on the man holding the reins until they were well out of town.

Matthew stood, and peaked into the wagon. What he saw broke his little chicken heart. Adriel gripped her mother's cloak. Sobbing quietly into the woman's breast. She had hidden in an empty crate while they were in town. But that crate was not soundproof. Everyone hated her family because of her heritage. There was nothing she could do about that. Soon she felt something ticking against her leg. Dejected green orb's filled with tears lowered to the chicken. As humiliating as it felt to sit in another lap Matthew did not mind it for this girl. She needed as many comforts as she could get right now. Even her mother did not give him that same look of disgust as she had before. He was enough to make Adriel forget, for now, and that was enough for her.