Praised The Gods Be; We're Not Alone

The little man's little wings were real. Mortis found this out when he shoved his nose into the feathers appendages and took a deep sniff, sneezing when his nose reacted to the tickling. “Huh.” The boy uttered, shaking his head, still struggling to believe it despite the evidence in front of him.

The man was just, so, so, so tiny. He was smaller than Deathbelles babies. Mortis could just about carry him around on his back like a little monkey. He had never seen a wolf so small before in his entire life. Let along a winged one. “What happened to you?” he asked, perhaps a bit rude, but puppy curiosity got the better of him. “Why didn’t you grow?” and to be fair, he answered the questions posed to himself. “I’m Mortis Fatalis from the Ashen Armada. No, no one else in my family has wings. My brother has bear-feet tho”