Starfire

Chapter 2: -Soon-

   The slow turn of the days melded into each other, and Najma lived for the brief moments that he was allowed to grow up. He knew inside of him that he was supposed to be out there by now, but he was only allowed a measly five minutes here, a quick sniff into the forest there. Not enough, ever enough. His dreams were restless swirls, mixing experience with excitement until he could have convinced himself that he'd really visited the distant, ancient city in real life instead of just in his mind.

   His wings ached to be stretched in real flight. He'd only dreamed it, but it felt so close. He wanted to fly, and he could already feel the way his muscles were thickening out right around his shoulders and the joints of his wings. So close.

   He wanted to run and leap and to break away to travel to the city, but his mother forbade it. And it was a strong order, something not to be trifled with. He knew when he went into the tunnels he wasn't allowed to venture through that his mother wouldn't be too mad for too long, but he could sense that if he disobeyed her in this, he would not be so easily forgiven. For some reason, this was a wall that he wouldn't be able to knock down with any amount of wheedling and pleading and sad eyes.

    These frustrations floated around in his mind along with daydreams and aspirations as he lounged in the entrance to their tunnel, his head resting on his front legs, which had grown out quite a bit since his first venture outside. He longed to leave the cramped little space. He felt he had long since outgrown the nursery, though he was not nearly as big as some who still hadn't left. Couldn't they see that he was different?

   They told him so much, but compared to the questions he really had, it all seemed so superficial. Trees and grass and the sky. Numbers, biology, astronomy. They were introducing him to some of everything, but none of the things that they thought he wasn't ready for. But he was! his throat itched to growl it out at them as loud as he could manage.

   He wondered how his mother felt. Surely it was quite similar to the restless stirring of adventure and claustrophobia that he now felt, himself. She was at least three times as big as he was, even with his recent growth spurts. She must feel awful, never able to stretch to her full height, and never able to use her wings as they were meant to be used. So if she knew why he yearned so hard to get out, why wouldn't she just let him?

   His ribcage felt pressed around his heart, and he was hardly able to muster enough interest in the small space to keep his eyes open. It was all something he'd seen before, and his soul sang for the unknown: For the sky.

   He'd never properly flown before in his life, but he still tried to hover around the small space as much as his size would allow. He sometimes even got several feet off the ground when he practiced in the tunnel convergence room, but he would never really fly until he grew more, therefore growing into the size of the awkward appendages. As it was, his wings were far too large, and they dragged on the ground when he walked because the rest of him hadn't quite caught up. They were awkward and heavy, making it impossible to really fly until his body grew to fit them. Recently, his legs had been somewhat the same. They felt too long to walk on with any reliability, and he constantly tripped around wherever he went.

   But he could feel it, just at the edge of his grasp. It was right there, and he had a feeling that if he tried hard enough, he could do it.

   He was just about to head into the convergence room to practice his flying when his muscles froze. There was a breathless moment of confusion, like the peaceful moment that a drip of water clung to the bottom of a stalactite, its hold thinning but not yet broken.

   Then he was falling, like that tiny drop of water. Did he hit something? Where had the crash of pain come from? There was no way he'd been high enough up to cause—cause—this. It was blinding and white, loud and sudden.