Page 121 of Ruby
He nods once. “With the right resources. Yes.”
The world narrows. The air tastes different.
For a heartbeat, I am back in the sky. The rush of wind beneath me. The burn in my shoulders as I climb thermals. The scream of joy as I dive.
I have trained myself not to dwell there. Not to hope.
Hope is dangerous.
But now—
“You could fly again,” Ani breathes.
Her voice is trembling.
I look down at my hands, one set reaching back to feel the scars along my shoulders.
“You are certain?” I ask Thivoll.
“As certain as I am of gravity,” he says in his pleased rumble.
A laugh breaks out of me before I can stop it.
Disbelief, along with something fragile and bright.
“You mean I would not be grounded forever?”
“Not if we find the right resources,” Thivoll repeats.
A soft voice breaks in and we all turn to see the purple furred Rannek is hovering near the edge of the trees, nervous limbs twitching. “I already made a design.”
Ani’s smile turns soft in the way she only reserves for the gentle male. “Of course you did, Rannek. I am sure they will be the most beautiful wings in the universe. Even better than what the Genali took.”
His legs shift more, just like they always do when he has caught the group’s attention, but he keeps himself from running, the temptation to talk about a new project enough to keep him in place. “Olivia has helped make the design more… deadly.”
The last he says with a hint of disapproval and Ani chuckles.”It will be perfect.”
“My thanks, Rannek,” I tell him. “I don’t have words to describe how much joy it gives me that you thought of me.”
After a few more shuffles and his mouth opening and closing, his shoulders curve even further into his stomach and he flees. Thivoll purrs and Ani beams as we watch him retreat.
Ani’s hands are on my face suddenly.
“Do you hear that?” she demands, eyes shining. “You could fly again.”
I cannot speak. The idea is too large. Too wild.
“I thought—” I start, and stop.
I thought my sky was gone. I thought my life would be measured in what I lost.
Ani presses her forehead to mine. “You don’t get to give up,” she says softly. “Not when there’s even a chance.”
I close my eyes. From the moment I awoke in this terrible place, I have measured myself by absence. By what was taken.
Now, for the first time since the hunters carved my wings away, I feel something else.
Possibility.
