No Angel

Chapter Three

 Chloe felt the cold, swift air pushing against her chest as she felt, the wind pounding with the quick rhythm of her heart. 

"Don't look down," she heard him murmur, but somehow her eyes found the empty streets so many miles below them. 

She fought the terror streaked urge to scream, and shut her eyes quickly. It's only a dream, it's only a dream--

But the sound of rustling wind and the taste of the cold night pushed the truth into her mind. Her fingers tightened in his. Don't let go, just don't let go--

 Chloe's eyes, a dark blue of the sea before storm, fought open to take in the night. The world was so dark that she felt she was drowning in blackness, but the winking stars seemed to save her. She felt the tension slip away as she stared at those stars, so bright and lovely in the soft night. Just gazing at the stars, like midnight diamonds, made her feel better.

 She saw him, his  long, inky black wings softly turning as they guided her through the night. His eyes an earnest, shining black, firmly focused on the interminable night he swept through. The rich, coffee colored hair framing his face flew in the wind.

Chloe looked again at the bright stars, wondering briefly if he came from one. Suddenly, a star streaked across the sky. 

A shooting star, she thought. Make a wish.

She closed her eyes and wished for wings. 

It was then that she felt her feet brushing the ground--and her feet had touched the ground this way, with pointed toes and determination, so many times before, and so many times before as her feet brushed the ground she had frightened or angry or serene, but this was a new feeling.

And as she stood, it began to rain, a warm, gentle drizzle, and with this rain she found a name for the feeling.

Hope.

Hope is the thing with feathers.

Chloe smiled into the downpour. She had gotten her wish.