Softly, a single feather fell from Mattias’ right wing, and drifted across the room in a light breeze from the doorway. It lay on the floor, glowing faintly. The woman stopped crying, and slowly approached it. Making sure that he was not looking, she bent and palmed the feather. She stood for a moment stroking its warm softness, her face lit by the glow, gazing in wonder at the object of her desires. Then, carefully, she placed the feather in a small chest squatting in the corner of the room, closing the lid firmly.
Before long, a child’s cry emanated from the darkness of the adjacent room. The woman stood, glanced at Mattias as if to assure herself of his captivity, then moved silently towards the girl’s voice. A few hushed words, a soft melody, and silence returned. The woman returned, looking haggard and tired, and went about building up the fire without another glance at him.
This is a story I wrote ages ago, but for what it’s worth here it is in its original form. Winged vampires, witches, but with some interesting twists worthy of a look. Be warned: There is a brief rape scene, but payback comes quickly.