When she got to the bathroom, she softly closed the door behind her. And she turned on the light so she could dig through the drawers. 

"My child," a voice called out to her, soft and gentle, and she turned her head sharply towards its direction. 

There, kneeling down so that they were eye-level to her, was a person dressed in clouds. They had a softness in their eyes. A deep, aching kindness. And a deep, aching sadness. A deep, aching sadness that perfectly reflected her own. 

"Who are you?" the young girl asked. 

"I think you already know who I am."

"But ... Alemi? Why are you here?"

"I can't do much for you, child. My powers in this mortal world are limited. I wish I could do more. Especially for you, my dear, sweet child. But I can do this."

The room seemed to be bathed in a strange white glow. And when the little sister looked at herself in the mirror, she saw that she had earth-brown, feathery wings that matched the colour of her eyes. She reached back to feel them. And the feathers were whole and strong. The place where the wings connected to her back was thick and strong. And she saw in the mirror that the wings were large and thick and formidable. 

"These will carry you where you need to go. Trust in them, for they can keep flying indefinitely, and they will fly in whatever direction you bid them to go. And they will take you to the ground whenever you bid them to."

"But how will I know the way back home?" Aleni asked. 

"I will give you the knowledge needed to find your way." The God held their hand to Alena's forehead. And all at once, the calm, flowing knowledge of how to get home washed over her, like clear flowing water, like a calm breeze of air. 

"Thank you, Alemi."

"No need, Alena. Simply follow the knowledge and you will get back to your home, to where you belong."

"I will, parent."

Alemi then kissed the little girl on the forehead. And then the God disappeared. 

Alena quietly padded to her room and got a large shoulder bag from her closet, which she slung over her shoulders with great care, making sure to place the strap between her two wings so that they would not encumber her flight. She stepped carefully into the kitchen, in the barely-there light of the night. She had a large meal easily worth three meals, scarfing down the food as fast as she could. She went into the large pantry and filled her bag with food of all types, food that would survive the long journey back home. She also filled up all the water bottles in the house. When she had had about four days worth of food and water she went back. 

The little sister softly snuck back to her room, taking great care not to wake any of the family that inhabited the grand house. She softly closed the door behind her and she opened the window. The night was calm and clear and cool. The darkness coated everything in an air of soothing, an air of promise. And it was clear to her, what she must do next. What she could do next. 

She stood up on the windowsill, in front of the open window. And she flapped her great, powerful wings. She took off without making a single sound. And she left that house behind her, the window still open. 

She soared above the darkened neighbourhood. And from up so high, the huge houses all looked so very small. They looked small and unassuming and altogether powerless. Nothing like the high, hulking monoliths of perfection that they looked like on the ground. She soared higher and higher, until she was no longer able to be seen from the ground. And she began her long journey. 

There in the night air, she felt so incredibly free. She felt as though she was finally herself again. She felt as though she could breathe. The cold of the night washed over her, bathing her in cool, clear rejuvenation. And the air all around her, flowing over her skin and stroking through her hair, it was healing her soul and filling her with a soft yet strong and constant hope. 

She felt at one with the night. And she felt at one with the sky. The night, the sky, the air, they were all a part of her. They all flowed into her and she flowed into them right back. They gave her a constant embrace of strength, and helped her heart to have a constant embrace of strength within it. She felt as though she was in the arms of Alemi, of her parents, or her brother. She felt as though she was in the arms of the whole world. 

The shoulder bag carried by the strap on her back quickly got heavy. It got heavy and it burned and it was such torture. But still, she knew that she had to keep carrying it, because it would provide her with the nourishment that she would need for her journey. She knew she had to keep going. Because she was going home. The night and the air and the sky gave her strength to keep going onwards. And the knowledge that she was going home have her strength. It gave her so much strength. And, through the aching and burning in her back, she could go on. 

Her wings beat automatically, of their own accord. They both were hers and were not hers at the same time. They were given to her as a gift from the God. And they still belonged, in a sense, to said God. To said God who was helping her to get home. Her wings beat fast and strong, and carried her forwards and forwards through the air. They did not get tired no matter how long or how fast they beat. And she supposed that that was due to their magical origin. She was brightly thankful for them, for the help they provided.