Page 37 of To Ashes and Dust
The last time we’d practiced flying, I’d eaten dirt and snow. It had left me fearful and hesitant to try again, but I needed to master flight before we moved on to another form.
I stilled my nerves, closing my eyes, and I focused on leveling out my breathing. I imagined the wings, the talons, the feathers. A strange sensation crawled over my skin, as if the magic were melting down my body.
“Good,” Zephyr said.
I opened my eyes. The ground beneath my feet was closer—my body so light, I feared a good gust of wind might throw me into the sky. I turned my head to see spotted, tawny wings as I stretched them out. My talons scraped against the ground ungracefully as I stepped, pivoting in place along the slope of the mountainside. I swiveled my head backward to look at him, and I giggled. “It’s so weird that I can do this.”
He laughed, and I turned my body to face him. “Yeah, don’t force it, though. Owls have a limited radius. Any farther and you risk tearing a tendon.”
“Noted.” I looked down at my talons as I lifted my feet, bits of dirt and snow clenched tightly in my grip. The ice chilled me to my bones, and I shivered, my entire body twisting and shaking. I’d been working on perfecting this transformation for a couple weeks now, but it still didn’t feel natural. Zephyr had stressed that the first form was difficult to master, but future forms would come more easily.
My gaze drifted down the slope of the mountainside, littered with rocks and boulders, but this area was clear of any trees I’d need to avoid. I stretched my wings out, my head tilting as I looked over my stance, ensuring my limbs were listening to my commands.
“Tail,” Zephyr reminded me.
I fanned my tail out, eyes forward to the slope before me. It wasn’t far to the base of the mountainside. I could do this; twenty, maybe thirty feet. I stretched my wings high, and with a leap and a swift downstroke, I was airborne.
“Straighten out. Level your wings,” Zephyr called out, and I resisted the urge to look at him. I might not regain my courage to try again if I crashed into something.
The icy wind slid over my back, through my outstretched wings. My feathers ruffled against the current, and my heart raced. I tried to keep my eyes forward, focusing to keep my body still, but I felt so free. How did shifters not give into temptation to never shift back? To be able to fly anywhere, see anything.
I blinked. I was nearing the bottom, the base of the slope approaching too fast. Shit. I had to land.
“Talons forward!” Zephyr yelled.
This was where I struggled. I shifted my body, stretching my talons before me, wings reaching behind me.
“Shit!” I tilted too far and hit the ground.
“Tuck your wings in!” Zephyr yelled, but I couldn’t heed his command. I felt the bite of my bones hitting the ground and curled into myself in hopes my wings wouldn’t break.
The trees spun as I stared up at the sky, wings slack at my sides.
The thud of his landing was the only thing that alerted me Zephyr had flown down. He leaned over me, his raven head tilting as his eyes passed over me. “You ok?”
I breathed deeply, calming my racing heart. “Yeah. I don’t think I broke anything.”
He hopped around to my head, using his black beak to lift me up off my back and onto my feet. My wings sagged on the ground, quivering from the adrenaline pumping through me. God, if I could just get the hang of it, I could only imagine how amazing it would feel to soar high above the city of Johnstown, see the valley from above, fly over the rapids of the Stonycreek River.
“Don’t get discouraged. You almost had it that time.”
My head swiveled to him, my feathered chest still heaving. “What are you talking about? That was horrible.”
He laughed, shifting back to his normal form, then helped me onto his forearm.
I wobbled, grabbing onto him as best I could, but I feared I might tear into his arm with my claws if I clung too tightly. “I feel so out of sync.”
He smiled as he walked over to the boulder, where he’d observed me from all afternoon. “It takes time. You’ll figure it out. We’ll keep at it until it’s second nature. You’re getting closer.”
He lowered me onto the rock, and I sagged as my feet met solid ground again.
“Was it this difficult for you?”
“It was. My magic awoke when I was 17, but by then the fear of falling is instilled in you. The hesitation makes it more difficult to let your instincts guide you.” His words of encouragement did offer me some hope. “I was prepared for it, though, having been raised in a family of shifters.”
“I need to figure this out soon.”
Zephyr offered me a warm smile. “I know you will, Cas.”
