Falling feels funny, even though there's absolutely nothing funny about it. One minute I'm in a place where I am surrounded by people I love and who love me, and the next I'm falling from that place and into one where I have no idea how to live.

As I lay down in the grass I try to move, and I can, but with great difficulty. One of my wings is broken and it hurts, a lot. I sit up and take in my surroundings, I have landed in a park, central park to be exact, and it seems to be very late due to the small number of people around and how dark the sky seems. Hopefully, no one here saw my fall or that would start to raise a few questions and that would not be a good thing.

As I stood up, I began to think of what I needed to do, so first things first-find a dark and secluded area to sleep for the night, then after I have done that, fix my broken wing and now that I'm not in the heavens, where I belong, I don't have my fast healing abilities. Great.

After wondering through the trees to hide myself even more, I find a comfortable spot to stay for the night, it's dark and covered enough by the trees and bushes to hide me from anyone's view and is large enough for me to stay. I try to move my wing, and ouch, it hurts in a kind of pain I've never known, I sigh heavily, healing like a mundane is going to take more patients than I would've thought.

Lying down on my left side, careful not to bump my broken wing, I close my eyes, take a deep, calming breath, and let the darkness take over me.