Page 54 of Claim the Light
The result is an upward spiral.
The world spins around me, a dizzying blur of green trees, blue sky, and gray stone as I shoot heavenward.
Finally, my speed slows. I level out, spread my wings, and pump them once. A heartbeat later, I’m gliding across the treetops, close enough to reach down and touch the uppermost leaves.
My heart rate calms, butdamn, that was reckless.
Also fucking glorious.
I can’t stop my satisfied smile as I beat my wings and rise a little higher, giving myself the space to turn onto my back and check the sky for Micah.
He’s a distant speck far above me.
Then a plummeting one.
I hold my breath for the seconds it takes him to release his wings—far earlier than I did. His descent pulls to an abrupt halt, his wings billowing a little before he glides down at an angle toward me.
I’m still moving, but he has enough momentum to reach me quickly. Finally positioning himself directly above me, he coasts the air while we face each other.
His wings cast a shadow over me, a sudden darkness, before he shifts position and the sunlight shines through to me once more.
It’s not so bright that I can’t make out his curious smile.
“How are you doing that?” he asks, his voice raised so I can hear him.
The wind isn’t rushing around us here, but even so, our flight snatches the sounds from our lips.
“Doing what?” I call upward.
“Flying on your back. And without crashing.”
I consider his question since I simply turned into this position without much thought. Come to think of it, I could be defying the natural laws of aerodynamics right now.
But my senses are so expanded that I’m aware of the treetops close beneath me. The air between the branches and my back feels like a cushion—a buffer. And as for my wings, they’re both supporting me and gently swaying at the same time.
I took some swimming lessons when I was younger and right now, it feels a lot like doing backstroke through the water.
It’s the only analogy I can think of.
“It’s like swimming,” I say.
His focus switches to the distance. “Speaking of water.”
He lifts upward, giving me space to twist and turn to see the landscape up ahead.
A lake glistens in the distance. It’s at least two miles wide and a mile deep, a gleaming, oval shape like a mirror with a rippling surface.
It’s the only large body of water I sense, so it must be the one Beatrix mentioned. Anticipation floods me as I wait to see what creatures might be living in it—and within the forest.
Passing across the edge of the trees and the flat expanse of grass, I coast downward and land at the water’s edge. There, I stretch out my wings, appreciating the strength and agility I gain from them.
Micah lands behind me, but he hangs back. He’s rubbing his shoulder, as if the flight might have strained him, but before I can ask him about it, he says, “I’ll check the perimeter. Isaac told us to be cautious and I’d like to be certain we’re safe.”
“Okay.” I venture closer to the water. It shimmers with what appears to be movement right beneath the surface, but I can’t make out what might be under there.
Kneeling at the edge, I lean forward, my hands resting on my knees and my wings held aloft. I won’t be able to hold them high for long, but like Micah, I don’t want to be too trusting of this new environment. I’m ready to fly if I need to.
The water’s surface shimmers closer to my location.
