A Cruel Stroke of Luck
A pair of phoenixes ghosted through the sparsely populated woods of the Dark Lands, a widely feared place for its mystery. Feared even among the Dark Creatures for its unexplained measures of obscurity.
These phoenixes, however, found no need to fear these woods as they tore through them at speeds and sounds that would be otherwise ill-advised.
A smooth gale of wind stayed at the back of their trail and the air about them seemed to bend and push them forward, accelerating them even faster through the woods. With each passing second, their speed gradually climbed higher.
Ignoring the heavy beating of the sun that was only slightly past its zenith, they made quick work of the journey they had to make it back to the Phoenix Castle.
On the back of a gold-armoured blonde was an unconscious orange-haired boy with splints on both of his legs and a bandage wrapped firmly around his head.