Celestia

6

"Hello there!" The color-clad old man greets us with a smile and an Irish accent as we approach. White hair sticks out from underneath his straw-colored hat.

"Hi," Sawyer and I say in unison.

"I take it you fly the balloon," Sawyer points upwards.

"That I do, yes indeed! I believe one of you requested to fly with me?"

"Yes, I did," I answer. "Are you going to take us home?"

"Where we'll end up, you never know. The balloon goes where the wind blows!"

Sawyer and I exchange confused glances. Was that supposed to be a riddle?

"As long as it gets us out of this forest, we're all for it," I say. "Can we go grab some stuff for the trip?"

"Certainly! There's no hurry. I'll wait patiently to start the journey!"

I muster an awkward chuckle. "Okay. We'll be back."

We turn away and as we walk back to the house, Sawyer shoots me a look. "Who's this guy? Edgar Allan Poe? I hope he's not going to speak in rhymes the whole time."

"Well, at least he's cheery." I shrug. I didn't wish for specific personality traits when I wished up a pilot. Though, I wished for a plane and we got a hot air balloon. Wishes aren't always exact, I guess.

"I can't believe this. We're actually leaving!" Sawyer exclaims.

"Yeah. Sawyer, just don't get your hopes up too high. Our track record of successful escape attempts is zero for two." I warn him. 

"Then let's hope the third time really is the charm," he answers.

"One thing's for sure: you can't be sure how this is going to play out."

He and I run around the house, packing a few days worth of provisions and a change of clothes apiece. After I'm packed, I meet Sawyer in the living room, where he's waiting for me. 

"Ready?" He asks.

"Ready," I nod and give our cabin one more once-over. "If we never come back, I think I might actually miss this place a little bit."

Sawyer simply grins at me and extends his arm. I loop mine around his and we scamper out the door. It clicks shut behind us.

Our pilot still stands in the basket, hands clasped behind his back, staring at us with that giddy grin plastered on his face. Sawyer and I walk down to the dock, arm in arm. The old man opens the door of the basket for us and we step in.

"Ready Freddy?" He asks.

"Ready as can be," Sawyer answers.

"Okie dokie! Arms and legs inside the basket at all times, please. It gets a little bumpy. Just make yourselves comfy, and leave everything to me!"

We drop our backpacks in a corner of the basket and grab onto the rope handles that line the four sides for takeoff. The old man does his thing, and slowly, we ascend from the dock. Sawyer and I watch in amazement as the lake and our cabin grow smaller and smaller as we float upwards into the sunny, blue sky. The air gets noticeably thinner, and a bright red cardinal waves as it soars past my eyeballs.

"Okay," I move away, deciding it's time to have a seat. "I think that's enough of that."

Sawyer chuckles at me.

"Afraid of heights?" The old man asks me. "I was too, one time in my life."

"No, but it's easy to imagine myself leaning too far over the basket and falling."