Life Support #wattys2015

Chapter 7: Fai

“I promised I would bring him back. Keeping my word isn’t worth thanks.” Fai couldn’t stop looking at the hills and valleys of scars strewn across Mary’s arms. They were as numerous as the scars he left on his parents’ floor. He’d been hurt before—his ribs and ankle still hurt—but never on purpose. His hand rested on his dragon’s scales, which burned hot from their flight. He watched Mary and Isaac interact, Mary’s face contorted into a broad smile.  How could she slice herself open, then grin as though darkness never existed? Fai took it as madness.

But then, he did return to his parents almost every day, despite his father using him as a punching bag. If Fai kept returning, he would soon be as good as dead. Yet he knew he wouldn’t stay away long. If he left for a month, his parents would be arrested and put in jail (or executed) for losing “government property”. Perhaps he did hurt himself on purpose, even more so than the girl; his scars just weren’t as visible.

Fai sighed and left the pair. He ached for some time alone, to think. He needed to decide what he would do about the dead, and whether they were worth saving. He couldn’t do that while Mary’s hazel eyes were locked on him. He couldn’t bring himself to weigh her happiness against his when her smile shone like the sun. 

Ardor’s scales still burned with excessive heat. Even if the dragon couldn’t fly for a while—it would overheat and become ill-- there were some islands within jumping distance. He leaned close to the dragon’s slit of an ear, “Do you need to sleep?” he asked, and the dragon nodded.

Fai and Ardor moved together, leaving Mary and Isaac to do what they would. They huddled in the middle of the island, their heads bent in conversation. They didn’t notice as he snuck away.  

He climbed the large birch tree with his dragon. Ardor curled up in the lowest branch, nuzzling him. “I’ll be back soon,” Fai promised, “I just need to see think for a while.” The dragon licked Fai’s chin kindly, and he hugged its neck and kissed its nose. He removed his heels from the pack (still tied to Ardor’s saddle) and then slung it over his back, the weight heavier than he remembered.

Fai’s heels created footholds with their sharp points. He glanced at the bloodied branch, the one that used to cradle Mary. The whole island craved blood; it made him queasy to think that Mary had given hers up readily.

Fai climbed to the highest limb, careful not to let the ones below impale him or break under his weight.  The climb became a balancing as he reached the tallest branch, curled around him as if meaning to hold him hostage. He stood, using the space between his heels and the balls of his feet to support himself. There were two islands he could reach. One above that he couldn’t see well for his angle, and a small, white one below. He could jump to the island above, but the branch would break if he tried, and he could end up hurting himself by falling onto the lower branches. The one below him floated further out, and it would take a stretch to reach, plus a roll so he didn’t hurt his ankle again. But, since the whiteness of the smaller island sang of snow, the landing would be relatively soft.

There were ropes and bridges crisscrossing between islands, but only islands on about the same level. They couldn’t build a vertical bridge, and the wind was too strong for a rope ladder (and pieces of rock fell too often for a ladder of any other sort). Fai didn’t have the patience to try and find an “easy” path to the lower island.

He uncurled the branch on his ankle, and shifted his weight, feeling the creak and bend of the branch under him. He crawled as far out as he could before leaping like a cat to the lower island, curling himself into a ball, landing on his left shoulder, and then nearly rolling over the edge of the island. He caught himself, pushing off the grass—not snow, like he thought-- with clumsiness, and stood, surveying the new island.