Niala 35

Before finding Prim and Gaff, I had made my way to the matching tent, as I’d seen others do the years before. There, the woman working the counter stared me down with derisiveness.

“Sorry, we don’t have a list made for you,” She responded in curt and sharp tones.

I wanted to argue back, and I could feel my aura pounding in the back of my head and prickling in my mind. But then, her eyes went soft for a moment, and just as I felt like she pitied me, she had gotten wrapped up in my sudden flash of oblivion. As it appeared, they had no list made for me.

“I’m sorry, can I help you?” She looked at me like she’d not just spoken to me.

I hit that awkward moment where I realized the discussion headed into never-ending circles. My nerves wouldn’t go down, and my spiking aura wouldn’t stop.

I don’t need that stupid list. Screw them!

I needed to calm down, and that could best be done while spreading my wings.

I rounded the tents in a hurried stroll to see Prim latched onto Gaff’s arm, legs around his waist, boisterous as ever. I made a slow effort to head in their direction as they walked towards the tents and caught up with them there. Prim danced around, excited as ever to fly, as her thin wingbases showed weakness from disuse. They didn’t let the sentinels fly much at all, did they?

We launched her high, Gaff and I. Her excitement bubbled up through her aura. I wish I could be that excited over things.

I now realized how vital the Migration was even for those that didn’t travel, as the Sentinels. They needed us more than for our blood. Wanderers bred strong women, but the sentinels kept them weak. I can’t even remember not being allowed to fly before Kiromir found me. Every memory I had with my mom involved wings out, flying, and sunlight—no nighttime flights.

I leaped next, taking off to one of the support ropes. Gaff and I used to hang from them as kids. They weren’t fun to slide down, but just hanging there had its bonuses. I felt the thrum of the mixed sounds rocking through the rope.

There were dozens of voices, screaming children, laughter, chastising adults. Then, down below, I watched a woman tossing her little girl high up into the air, letting her spread her fledgling wings to catch herself before her mom did. I watched, and sadness came over me.

We were only up like fifty or sixty feet, so I let my hands go, let myself fall that harrowing second and a half before flitting my wings out at the end. I still landed hard, and a snapping noise told me I’d broken something that my foot trod on. I danced around, looking beneath my feet as Gaff came to land beside me. His wings cut the air so softly, I barely heard him as I searched. Finally, I shook my feet and found my right shoe’s sole just fell straight through. I wiggled my foot to watch the fabric and rubber flap a little.

“Barefoot?” Gaff stared from the shoe to me.

“Aww damn,” I muttered.

“Damn.” He agreed.

I didn’t want to look at him. I couldn’t stand to look at the gaps in his wings. When grooming them, I had to stare at the places he had plucked his apology from, the scabs, the empty spots. Would but I could strip my own feathers to give back to him, put them back. I wanted him there, but I didn’t want to see the damage I caused.

I kicked my shoes free and drew my wings back in as Prim watched from the top of the tent.

She swung her feet back and forth as her eyes took in the sight of all the jumping, flying, and flitting kids. Occasionally one would fall or falter. There lay a soft layer of hay beneath the high traffic areas. Prim could probably fix anything that came from that direction.

She waved me to go on, content to stay up there a while. She had a strange look on her face, but her smile stretched wide all the same. Pity? No, definitely something else. She felt sad.