Raven's Flight

Chapter 1: Part 1 - Ava

The engines of the plane stir up the water below us as we zoom toward Grenalla. Once upon a time (I'm a sentence late on that opener), the ocean my dad and I are traveling over wasn't here. It didn't exist. After years of climate change on the planet, rising sea levels and earthquakes caused parts of the northern continent to slip beneath the now joined waters of the Cawthon and Marlic oceans. Grenalla is one of the few parts that remain.

I tap my fingers on my armrest, watching the island grow larger and more defined as we near it. My dad operates the small aircraft with ease, every so often stealing a glance at me. It's like he can't believe I'm actually sitting next to him—that I'm actually in this plane. I've been gone for the past five years at a university in what's left of the former states of Tessa and Sylvia. I haven't been home. . . at all.

I didn't want to have to keep saying goodbye.

"So. . ." Tap. Tap. "What's the plan when we land?" Tap. Tap. . .Tap. Tap.

"Your mom wants to take you out to eat. Your uncle is going to come."

My uncle Marcus. The reason I'm returning to Grenalla. He offered me a job working on drones that predict potentially dangerous weather patterns and alert nearby cities so they have time to prepare. Drones fascinate me, yes, but the real reason I accepted is because it's home. When you're separated by hundreds and hundreds of miles of a vast watery graveyard, the ache of missing your family never goes away.

"Where are we eating?"

"A new place. Uncle Marcus worked on it."

I tilt my head. My uncle has no love of the food industry except for the consuming part. Most people can find common ground with the latter. "Are we on the same page about who you're talking about?

"Yes, Ava."

"Then can you explain how my recluse of an uncle works in a restaurant?"

He veers the aircraft slightly to the right. "I said he worked on it, not in it."

"So what exactly did he do?"

He ignores me.

"Dad?"

He flips a switch.

"Dad?"

He flips another switch.

"Dad?"

"Hmm?"

"Why aren't you answering me?"

"Sorry. I was tuning you out." A skill my dad so wonderfully picked up after having four kids.

"What was Uncle Marcus' part in it?"

"You'll see."

I raise my palms from my lap and shake my head. "You could have said that from the start."

He looks at me and grins. "I haven't seen my little girl in five years; do you really think I'm going to pass up an opportunity to mess with her?"

"Fair enough. . . Are mom and the others at the airport?"

He shrugs with a hint of amusement on his face. "Maybe."

I look out my side window at the waves rolling underneath us. "You are impossible."

Fifteen minutes later, my dad lands the plane on the east side of the island along a somewhat private landing strip. He taxis the plane up and into the aircraft hangar my family owns and there, waiting inside, is my family.