The Winged [HIATUS]

Chapter Six

I don’t slow my pace until I am over an empty cornfield. Only then do I relax, taking pleasure in the caresses of crisp morning air against my skin. I see a soft fog settling over the ground below and tilt my wings downward. Diving toward the earth like a torpedo, I giggle as droplets of water cling to my face. Then I stretch my wings and, with a single powerful flap, I am arcing out of the low-hanging clouds and back into the sky.

Despite my dampened pajamas, I am giddy with delight. Swooping through the atmosphere, dictated by nothing but my own whims… It never fails to considerably brighten my mood.

I inhale deeply and shoot straight up like a rocket, gaining as much altitude as I possibly can in one breath. When the air begins to thin, I stop and hover in place. Ordinary birds cannot fly in one place for more than a few moments; however, since my abilities are powered by thought I can will myself to levitate. Granted, this trick takes a lot of energy. I’ve been practicing lately to develop more endurance.

It is still dark enough to see the stars. I lean backwards until I am quite literally lying on a bed of air, observing the night sky from a better angle. Beads of sweat begin to form on my face, but I focus my attention on the crescent moon. With my advanced eyesight, I can see the craters in great detail.

While staring off into space (quite literally), an object enters my peripheral vision. I turn my head and squint, trying to see it more clearly. It looks like a bird. I’m unsure of what species it is, but it looks pretty big. In fact, it keeps on getting bigger. With a jolt, I realize that the bird is rapidly flying towards me.

It is then that I spot a flash of skin in the moonlight – a foot.

Birds don’t have feet like that…

Of course, a gust of wind decides to ram into me at that exact moment. The squall, combined with my astonishment at seeing a human foot attached to a bird, causes me to lose my concentration. I plummet like a brick.

There are few things more terrifying than falling. What’s worse? Falling headfirst.

I swiftly regain my bearings and spin so I am facing the earth. Bad decision. Now I get to watch the ground speed up to meet me. Instead of hurling like I want to, I unfurl my wings with as much force as I can muster. They yank me upward, pulling me so I am horizontal to the land below. I flap hard and break the fall by propelling myself forward. Skimming over the field, I realize just how close I was to death. Two more seconds and I would have been a pancake.

I look up, searching for the “bird.” Eventually, I spot it and surge up to intercept. I can now identify the creature as female. She catches sight of me and backpedals sharply; her hair – I can’t tell what color – whips across her face like a mask. She beats her wings and scrambles in the other direction. I don’t hesitate to give chase.

“Hey!” I yell over the wind. “I just want to talk to you!” I receive no response.

We tear through the sky like maniacs. The girl throws glances behind her from time to time to see if I am still on her. Fear fuels her escape, but I am steadily closing the distance between us. When it comes down to sheer speed, I have no rivals.

A word of advice: don’t race a peregrine.

Within a few minutes, I am almost close enough to grab her foot. I extend my arm, reaching for her toes… and she disappears. I am momentarily disoriented, searching the clouds for any sign of the girl. Then I look down and see her barreling toward the earth. I tuck in my wings and dive-bomb after her. I am on her within seconds, but she abruptly changes direction (again) and gains altitude. I extend my wings and spin around to face her, losing precious time. This girl is slippery.