Page 118 of Ruby
She snorts, the sound all that’s needed to let me know she sees the contradiction within that plan.
My gaze shifts to the lake. There are others out there. Women taken. Women changed. Women who think they’re alone.
“We’ll find them,” I say.
It doesn’t feel like bravado. It feels like a plan.
Szhe’ka hums an affirmative. “We build,” he says. “Together.”
Azoeul shifts, wincing slightly. “Community is stronger than running,” he mutters. “We will stay together.”
“That’s rich, coming from you,” I tease gently. “All you do is run from tree to tree.”
He grunts, but I can tell he’s pleased. I rise and brush dirt from my knees.
“Okay,” I say, clapping my hands once. “He needs rest. Szhe’ka, keep pressure on that binding if it loosens. I’ll take over soon.”
“You’re taking a shift?” she asks.
“Yes.”
She studies me for a second, then nods. “Alright.”
Szhe’ka watches me as I move, something soft in his expression.
“What?” I ask.
“You are not what they made you,” he says simply. “Or what you used to be. New feathers and new notes.”
The words settle into me. Maybe who I am is someone who keeps her head when things fall apart. Someone who can build something new from a wreckage.
I look at the small cluster of us. Missing wings, stitched wounds, tired eyes.
“We’ll find the others,” I say again, quieter this time. “We’ll make this bigger.”
Szhe’ka’s feathers rustle. “Our aerie will grow.”
Even if none of us can truly fly yet. Even if we’re all still learning how to use the pieces we’ve been given.
No, I’m not fighting other women for space. I’m building space.
And I’ll be fucking amazing at it.
43
Szhe’ka
Her wings are getting bigger.
I see it first in the mornings. When the light spills over the lake and she stretches, the blue-green feathers catch the sun in wider arcs than the day before. The red underneath deepens, richer now, more flame than ember. They no longer look fragile. They look… eager.
She stands at the edge of the rocky shore and flexes them, testing.
The first few days, she could do little more than lift herself off the ground for a breath and drop again. Now she can glide. Not gracefully. But she can.
“Watch,” she calls, glancing back at me with that bright, reckless grin. She climbs onto a low boulder, spreads her wings, and leaps.
She catches air for three heartbeats before tilting wrong and landing in a graceless skid across the sand.
