Broken Wings

Saying Goodbye

The canopy was a tossing sea of green except for islands of glowing yellow and fiery orange standing alone every here and there, marking the few deciduous trees interspersed in the pines. They, the ever-cooling temperatures, and the permanent crowns of white capping most of the surrounding peaks served as persistent reminders of the fast approaching winter. After a few minutes taking in the forest, I started looking further out for any straight lines cutting through the wilderness, which would indicate some kind of human presence. Nothing was visible nearby. I did spy some irregularities in the distance: a definite, continuous something that might have been a road wrapping around the mountains beyond the closest ridge, a straight line of discoloration crossing the valley to the north, and a single, flashing red light that likely marked a radio tower far to the south. That was it, as far as I could tell. I really had crashed right in the middle of nowhere. After several minutes and a few thousand feet of climbing, Anea rolled out of her bank and soared out of the thermal. The air had been steadily chilling as we rose, but the icy wind that met us when we left the updraft hit me like a slap in the face!

"Shit!" I gasped, coughing as the shockingly frigid air stung my lungs and sent my heart racing. I recovered soon enough. I was wearing my winter coat and a few layers of pants which kept me reasonably warm, but my bare hands and face were exposed to the burning, biting cold. I huddled as low to the dragon's back as I could and hunched my head low between my shoulders, but I fought the urge to tuck my hands into my armpits. I needed to keep my grip on the reins. Then I felt a floating sensation in my gut and looked up to catch Anea casting concerned glances back at me.

"It's too cold for you, isn't it?" she asked, continuing her rapid descent.

"It's... not-t that b-bad," I answered, failing to keep my shivering out of my voice. Really, it wasn't. If I had some gloves and a scarf, I would have been fine. "Just have too much skin exposed." I felt more than heard Anea's frustrated growl. "I just mean I could put up with this for a while if I had too," I added, guessing what was irritating her. "I would like you to take us back down where it's warmer, please."

"Why is your first instinct always to hide your pain from me?" she asked, still irked. "I thought we weren't going to have any more secrets."

"Uh... Because a little cold isn't a big deal." I said with a frown. "I let you know when I really need your help, but I can pretty much take care of myself day to day."

"I know that. I don't understand why you're so determined to make things harder for yourself just to keep proving it."

We were getting close to the treetops, and I searched for the clearing while Anea began leveling off. I soon spotted it: an unusually large clearing for this part of the forest with a stream bisecting it and a fire flickering on the eastern side. The dragon circled the perimeter once to bleed off speed while I readjusted my grip and braced for touchdown. With a final sharp bank, we turned parallel to the stream and descended steeply. Anea swept her wings forward to slow down, then swung her tail and hips beneath us in a final flare before dropping heavily onto her hind, then front legs. She jogged a short distance across the clearing to shed the last of her momentum and come to a stop. I untangled my legs from the restraining rope and slid down the dragon's left leg to the ground while she furled her wings. I stayed by her side with a hand resting on her foreleg until she turned to look at me.

"Adrian, I'm worried about tomorrow. I've been worried since you said you needed to go back to your people one last time. I'm afraid that once I take you to a human town, you won't come back. I trust you!" she interrupted me as my mouth opened to protest. She reached down to nuzzle my shoulder. "I trust you," she repeated more gently, "You could hurt me because of that trust, and while that does frighten me a bit, I know you won't. But I don't trust other humans. No matter what you say, this idea of yours seems incredibly dangerous to me. If someone recognizes you, you will have to flee, and you might have to fight. You will need to be at your very best, and if you let yourself get all twisted up inside you won't be." She stepped away toward her incubation fire, and I followed, swallowing down the nauseating mix of dread, regret, and guilt that had become all too familiar to me in the last few days.