The Guardians

PROLOGUE
It was night. No light bathed Bush Hill Park but the dull glow of the street-lights that washed weakly over the play area. The park was empty apart from one boy who couldn’t have been older than eight years old. His black hair contrasted with his crystalline blue eyes. A tear rolled from his eyes down his nose, threatening to tumble down to the floor.
Sighing, he clutched to red metal framing of the swing-set he was sitting on. With a grunt, he yanked himself into a standing position. He limped further into the park, toward a big slide at the back of the park. He grimaced as he slowly ascended the ladder to get to the top.
He slumped down in a heap, and tried to slide out of his leather bomber jacket. When he was finally successful, he dropped the jacket down to the dusty ground, and moaned as he pushed himself up. He took a deep breath, and unfurled a pair of very dark, very big, very feathery wings. They flapped messily before obtaining order, flapping in unison. Slowly, the boy started to float up, moving with the wings.
He was finished.

But his job was far from done…