The Winged [HIATUS]

Chapter Ten

“The first step towards getting somewhere is to decide that you are not going to stay where you are.” -John Pierpont Morgan

[ C H A P T E R  T E N ]

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After a brief flight, Tempest and I touch down in my backyard. I fold my (now invisible) wings in against my spine and wince. They’re still a little sore from being smashed in a net. Tempest looks to be in similar pain.

“What now?” she asks.

I tenderly poke my face wound and find that it is almost entirely healed. “We can’t stay long. This is probably the first place they’ll look for us.”

She raises an eyebrow. “Then why the heck are we here?”

“I have to talk to my mother before we go,” I reply. “Also, we should probably stock up on supplies. Would you mind getting some gear from the treehouse?”

“Aye aye,” she declares, mock saluting me before flapping up into my tree.

I roll my eyes and open the sliding glass door, crossing the threshold into my home for what might be the last time. “Mom!” I holler. “I’m back!”

My mother rushes out of the adjoining room and scoops me up into a giant bear hug. “I was so worried about you!” she exclaims, squeezing me tighter.

“Uh, Mom? You’re crushing me.”

“Sorry,” she mutters, setting me down. “How did your rescue mission go? You look exhausted.”

I nod in agreement. “Yeah, it took a lot out of me. We’re both fine, though.”

“That’s great!” she beams. “How are your other injuries healing?”

I gingerly peel the gauze off my forearm and suck in a breath of astonishment. The gash has already mended itself into a thin line. My shoulder is also feeling significantly better, but I don’t dare remove those bandages. “I feel right as rain,” I report, “but I have to tell you something important…”

“Well, what is it?” she asks, perplexed.

I take a deep breath to steel myself for what I’m about to say. “I have to leave, Mom.”

“What do you mean?” she demands. There is a spark of panic in her eyes: the fear of losing one’s child.

“I have to run away,” I explain. “Fly away, to be exact. Those monsters are already searching for me. Every second I stay here puts you in danger.”

“No, I won’t allow it!”

“I’m going whether you like it or not, Mom.”

“I said no! I forbid you!”

I fight to suppress a snort. My mother has never successfully “forbidden” me from doing anything. “Mom, I know you’re the one who is supposed to protect me, but now I have to protect myself. And if I don’t leave, both of us are going to wind up dead. You have to trust me on this.”

She opens her mouth to protest, but shuts it after digesting what I’ve just said. “Can’t you stay with a relative?” she queries, finally seeing reason.

I shake my head no. “I don’t want anyone else to be a target.”

My mother’s shoulders slump in defeat. “Wait here for a minute,” she says. “I’ll be right back.”

I watch with interest as she disappears up the stairs. What is she doing? I think to myself. Maybe she has something she wants to give me before our departure, though I have not a clue what that might be. While I wait, I pick my favorite white jacket up off the couch and slide it on.