Facing The Sun

Hell on Neurothon

"Get up." They scoffed at her. Ivis scoffed back.

"For what? You're just going to hit me back down again." She argued.

They bent down towards Ivis in a swift, sudden movement, meeting at face-level—teeth bared as they snapped. "Exactly. You're lucky I'm not angry enough to stab both your wings and leave you to die in the vast. Now get up. I'm still rather pissed."

Ivis wanted to scream.

~ * ~

Ivis was no stranger to dangerous situations, and so she usually knew how to avoid them—but this time, it felt like it was her fault.

Ivis groaned. She's had worse, but by the sun, this hurt. The arrow landed on her shoulder, and passed through entirely. If she hadn't moved when she did... it would be bits of her brain missing instead.

I'm glad it didn't hit my wing, screw my head.

If she had been hit in the head, she would have been given a quick, merciful death. But her wing? Well, she would not have been so lucky.

"A grounded Aviothan is a dead Aviothan." Her Mother's words rang in her head. It would take more than one shot to prevent Ivis from flying, but Ivis would take a shoulder wound over a shot in the wing any day.

Purple blood gushed from her wound. Her ears were ringing, and she had to force down a panic that was threatening to rise within her chest.

Need to stop the bleeding—stop the bleeding. She repeated to herself.

After tying up her annoyingly long hair; Ivis tore off a piece of her pants fabric, and wrapped it around her wound. Temporary—but it should hold.

Fly home, where's home.

Ivis couldn't get sidetracked—not now, not here.

Get up.

Ivis sighed, and took in a deep breath. Wincing as she moved. It felt like an eternity, but at last she managed to her feet, spread her wings, and promptly stumbled right back over to the ground.

Ivis scoffed at herself. She should have known stretching her wings would disturb the wound, but she needs to get over it—and get up again. Biting her lip, she repeats step one and two, and takes off. Under the canopy of the trees this time.

This wouldn't have happened if you didn't leave home on Incineration day.

Incineration day was one of the few holidays of Nearothon, it celebrated both life and death, and was a huge festivity—for those in the city. Usually a tournament was held in their ruler's honor, too. But in the Vast, where Ivis lived—suns past it was horrible. Robbers, thieves, and Aviothan that were bad news lingered. Really, it spoke all this planet was to Ivis—a place filled with people she wanted to leave behind.

Said bad news waited for the less fortunate—and unfortunately, today it was Ivis's stubbornness as the victim.

Just had to get those parts, didn't you?

Ivis wanted to slap herself. Luckily, or unluckily, one arm was wounded—and the other was carrying the parts she needed as she flew. So she was all out of slaps... for today.

For a long time now, for many Nearothon years, Ivis had slowly been building her way out of the planet. A transmitter. She could never build a ship, didn't have the right materials—or anything, really. She had been lucky enough to find the instructions for an emergency transmitter in some book she found, probably dropped by a poor soul fleeing who knows what. Not her problem now.