《Not your average Bird》Chapter 9
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I rolled with the impact and slid past dad.
I looked up at him hopefully... But he shook his head and motioned to the tree.
"Again."
"But I made it past you!"
"Yes, by rolling. I said you had to glide. Do it again."
I grumbled under my breath, but did as he said.
For two days we'd been out here, and for two days I've been falling more often than not. It was honestly getting depressing. I mean, what kind of bird can't fly?... Oh, right, me. I'm that kind of bird.
I shook my wings out, an action I repeated every time I made an attempt, then leaped... I desperately flapped my wings in a vain attempt to stay in the air... But I hit the ground all the same. I'd flown maybe ten or so feet from where I'd started.
Dad was twice that distance away.
"Again."
"Yeah yeah."
Hour after hour I climbed the tree and tried to fly. Alas, it seemed it wasn't in the cards for me... Maybe I should just accept it and stay home?
Finally, as I was laying on my back with my wings spread wide. My dad looking on with pity clear in his eyes... He sighed.
"This isn't working."
"Really? I thought it was working fine."
"Apparently not," He continued without noticing the tone in my voice. "What did your other body look like?"
...
"That's an odd question."
"Humor me."
"Well... I wasn't covered in feathers, for one. I had arms and hands instead of wings, and... Oh, I was bigger."
"How much bigger?"
"Not sure," I admitted. " Smaller than Commissioner Pierce, certainly. But... Larger than Dr. Lynes."
"Interesting... Okay, let's try this. You say you had hands and arms, right? Like a primate?"
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"You mean a monkey? Yeah, I guess so."
"Good, Good! I can work with that. Okay, monkey monkey monkey... Got it!" He pushed me onto my feet, then ushered me into the tree.
"Okay, have you ever had to swim?"
...
Flashbacks of the first time I was 'taught' to swim flowed through my mind and I gulped.
"Unfortunately."
"Good! Then pretend you're using your arms to slap the water."
...
"What?"
He thwacked my head.
"Okaaay, yesh."
I 'slapped' at the air in front of me.
"Again."
I did it again.
"Again."
"Again."
"Keep going until I say stop."
I started 'slapping' at the air in front of me. Faster and faster, he urged me on.
"My chest hurts..." I complained after a few minutes.
"Good. Keep slapping."
I continued to 'slap' until my chest ached so much I thought I would die.
"Stop."
I immediately stopped.
"Now, glide."
"But—"
"Glide or I push you."
I leaped off the branch... And flew... I flew right into a tree on the other side of the tiny clearing, but I flew!
I fought my way out of the bushes at the bottom of the tree and cheered.
"I did it!"
"You certainly did." He chuckled. "Now, we just have to teach you to turn."
...
"We're doing that now, aren't we?"
"Of course. You're on a roll, son. No reason to quit now."
...
"What happened to 'going home'?" I grumbled.
"That was before you wasted a day. I have six days to get you into shape, and by the Father, I will not allow you to embarrass this family."
"Father?" I asked.
"Hmm?"
"No, you said, 'by the Father'. Who's father?"
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"Just a figure of speech, son."
"But—"
"No, we have work to do. You can ask questions after you prove to me you can fly."
...
"Alright," I sighed.
Thirty-six... That's how many times I hit something before I was able to land safely. Trees, bushes, branches, an unfortunate snail. Those were the casualties of my day of training... But I did it! I finally flew!
"Don't celebrate yet." His words were like a bucket of ice to my enthusiasm. "One out of thirty-six isn't great odds when it's a life or death situation. And flying is always a life or death situation. Slamming into a tree inside of the nest is all fine and dandy, but do it outside and you're something's lunch."
"Yeah," I sighed. "I know."
"No, you don't. And that's the way I'd like to keep it... But you're going to find exactly what I mean when you leave."
He placed his head against mine and ruffled my feathers... He opened his mouth to say something... then huffed and stepped away.
"Let's get back to work."
...
"Okay."
By nightfall, I was able to land safely forty out of a hundred times... Considering I tried it several hundred times, that was an obvious improvement over the first time. But dad didn't let me celebrate, no, he said celebration was for birds that could fly ten times out of ten. Anything less, and only your enemies would celebrate.
After the sun disappeared between the trees, Dad once again carried me back to the platform and the two of us walked home. He didn't say anything, in fact, he hadn't said much of anything since he'd stopped himself earlier.
So, I decided to get the ball rolling.
"Who's 'the father'?"
...
"One of the old gods."
"You worship a god? I didn't know that."
"Most birds don't. It's not exactly something I advertise."
"Why not? Is he an evil god?" I didn't think dad would worship an evil god... But, if he did, I'm sure there's a good reason for it... Right?
"No, not evil... Well, not really."
"Then why?"
He sighed.
"Let's just say... It's a family tradition, and leave it at that."
"But... But I'm your son."
...
"I know. And I promise to tell you when you're older."
...
"Are you actually promising, or are you just saying that so I'll stop asking?"
Dad glanced at me out of the corner of his eye and said,
"Yes."
...
"That doesn't answer my question."
He didn't look at me as he increased his walking speed.
"Dad?"
No response.
"Get back here and answer me!"
"Bleh!" He stuck his tongue out at me, then leaped into the air and flew off. I wasn't worried about getting lost since I'd been down this particular road hundreds of times... But him leaving still annoyed me.
"I'll make you answer me, dad! I know where you live!"
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A litRPG portal fantasy. Alex Kellan has several problems. He's on medical leave, he's being followed by stalkers, and he's alone on Christmas. Unfortunately, things take a turn for the worse when he wakes up in a nightmarish world where most people have magical abilities. Then things get interesting when he's forced to participate in a deadly competition for his freedom... A participant in the Royal Road Writathon challenge .
8 121Art of Mortality
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