Chapter 4

Chapter 4
Four days later, we left. The last three days were a drag. I slept almost 24/7 and I didn’t leave the room. Other than that, my wing healed to the stage where I could travel, but I still wasn’t allowed to fly. As much as I knew, I had never flown before. Why then, did I have an ache to leave the ground? As we left, the sky turned a beautiful red and pink while the edges were orange. The large clouds were ringed with gold. For an instant, I thought that one was a roaring lion. I blinked and it disappeared. As we walked, I thought nothing of it. We walked to the head of the valley in a couple of hours.

“Let’s make camp here,” Wolfe said, jerking me from my thoughts. “The sun will slip behind the west mountain soon, and there will be a lot of climbing tomorrow,” We made camp at the base of what I guessed was the north mountain, the peak not even visible through the spotty clouds. Wolfe and I brought out our sleeping bags for the night.

“No wood for a fire tonight, I suppose,” I muttered longing for the trees that provided fuel for the warm flames. We had left such comfort about a mile behind us.

“Get used to it. There won’t be trees for quite a while,” Wolfe said. We seemed to be arguing for the sake of a little conversation, both of us exhausted from the trudge up the valley.

The sun slipped behind the mountain to the left, shadowing the small valley. Burr… without the sun I sure am glad for this sleeping bag. I thought to myself as I sank into the warm sack. The first star appeared and I drifted off to sleep.

. . . . .

“Elsa. Wake up!” Suddenly shaken awake, I found Wolfe kneeling over me, pressing my shoulders, once again, into the earth.

    “What’s...going...on?” I groggily said, as she released me. I rolled over to my back and sat up as I brushed dirt off of me. “It’s still hours till dawn,” gathering my bearings, I took stock of the situation as I scanned for trouble.

“You were thrashing in your sleep again.” She replied.

“Well, I did have a dream that I was trapped,” I responded to try and make sense of the situation. “You know, if we headed out now we could cover more ground,” I suggested.

“Why?” Asked Wolfe, “we can stay here, get some more rest and then be charged up for the morning.”

“Well, it’s a half moon and plenty of light to walk by, and the days are short any ways.” I tried to persuade her. She seemed up to the idea.

“Alright, let’s go,” we quickly bundled up the light weight sleeping bags, and strapped them to our packs. “If we go around the mountain, following the edge of the valley, we can save our strength for a long walk,” she said and I nodded, gingerly putting the pack over my wings and buckling the waist strap. Walking around the mountain took until the sun rose high above the peak behind and to the right of us.

“Let’s stop and take a food break,” I said, as my stomach rumbled.  “I’ll get out the jerky, you find some roots or berries,” the good doctor obliged, getting up, taking with her a knife to cut roots and branches.  “Now where is that jerky,” I mumbled as I rummaged through my pack. Not finding what I was looking for, I turned to Wolfe’s. Gasping, I saw the all too familiar feather symbol on a sheath. It was my knife! Glancing around, I started to strap the weapon to my leg, but then jumped up swiftly as I heard a rustle in the bushes, about 20 yards away. ‘Well’ I thought, ‘this will tell me how good I am with this bow.’ As I unslung the graceful weapon and stringed it. I didn’t even know what I was doing, but my arms and legs seemed to work by themselves.

Using my right hand to unlatch the top of the quiver on my back, I prepped my bow with the other. Loading the arrow, I raised the bow and pulled back, my back muscles doing just as much of the work as my arms. Still aiming at the bush, I walked around it, the bow only pulled back halfway. Meeehehe…meeehehehe, a sound came from the bush. Meeehehe, again it came, sounding like it was separating each short breath.

Releasing tension on the string, yet not firing the arrow, I replaced the shaft back in the leather quiver. Peering through the growth, a small white animal, with very curly hair, was caught by its own horns in the vines. Unsheathing the dagger, I crouched closer. Guessing that fresh meat would be the only good meat, I slit the throat of the animal. After killing it, I cut the branches that the horns were caught in and gathered as much wood as I could carry with the animal on top. ‘Meat for breakfast and a good fire. That will give us some decent energy.’ I thought, happily almost strutting back to the fire with my prize.

Skinning and gutting the thing was fairly tricky, but I figured it out and got a good cut roasting over the fire. After a while, it got easier and laid out strips to dry in the morning sun. The bright globe was rising high overhead when Wolfe returned, with her jacket and shirt full of ripe berries.

“Looks like you had the same luck I did, great!” she said grinning. I could see that around her mouth, she had started a snack, but had small amounts of left overs still on her cheeks.

“Whatever we don’t eat, we can dry.” I said returning the grin. Through our delight, I still pondered what she was doing with my knife. Dismissing the thought, I turned to the juicy red meat and the sweet natural treats in front of us. After eating till our stomachs bulged, we laid out the rest to dry. I frowned, shaking the water canteens, and stood, dusting off my seat. “I’ll go fill these up, you stay here; I’ll go find the water.”

I set off down the trail and back the way we came, remembering the stream we had passed the day before. After about ten minutes of walking, I entered the forest and I let my wings relax, trailing them just above the forest floor. With Wolfe way in the distance behind, I climbed a tree. Reaching the top, I stared at the beautiful sight of the forest stretching off to meet the village hill. I jumped, then startled by the sudden drop, snapped my wings out.  Hovering above the ground, I righted myself, then set off, the wings on my back remembering what to do while I did not. A memory nagged at the back of my mind, but was too involved in my accomplishment to chase it.

Climbing in altitude, I breached the canopy, searching. A glint in the sunlight told me what I needed to know. The stream lay about a hundred yards to my left, so I headed toward it. Landing on the bank, I unstopped the canteens. Tipping the bottles into the stream, I rested my wings, spreading them out on the soft earth. Carefully corking them closed, I tucked them into my belt.

Sprinting along the bank, I didn’t slow down as I jumped, landed, then pushed up into the sky. Navigating the stream, I thought of an idea. Gaining more height, I pumped my wings hard, straining them faster. Glancing at the ground, I saw that I was above the path. Flying was so much easier. I cut wide from the path, my idea taking form. Finding Wolfe asleep, I landed next to her. Planting my hands on her shoulders I shacked her hard.

            “Wolfe! Wake up!” I shouted, sounding scared and urgent. The look of sleepy confusion on her face was so strange, I fell on my butt, erupting with laughter.

            “What’s wr-oh, ha, ha very funny.” She mumbled very annoyed that her nap had ended. “Thanks though, we should get going,” and she started to pack; I alongside her because my laughing fit was over. “Now that I’m awake, I wanted to show you something,” now she was dead serious. My lingering smile had vanished. She set down her pack and I gasped. Unfolding from her back were two black wings, shimmering in the sunlight. “I thought that I was the last one. But, when you arrived-I…” She trailed off, staring at the ground.

            “You knew you had to find the monks,” I finished, “To help your family,” I stared, unable to keep my eyes off them.

            “My name really isn’t Amanda, that’s just a name I like. My real name is actually Wolfe. I changed it because it seemed like a strange name if I was to fit in with the humans,” she paused, letting the information sink into my brain.

            “What did you mean by last one?” I asked, trying to make sense of one of the many confusing things she just said.

            “Long ago,” she started, “The Wing Corps. was the major defense and recon group. They only accepted the best of the best. The King of Conyewa would have his best sorcerer magically attach wings to each of the members. When each member left or moved on from the group, the wings would fade. The people still had magic about them, but could not use it. Often, the descendants would be born with wings.

            Often ancient civilizations would put us at the top of their caste, if they had one. They also treated as Gods, or rulers. As we became more common, and people got smarter, we became hunted. Our feathers adorned many clothes and walls. The biggest and the best. We became subjects for science experiments, people dissected us, trying to understand us. Finally, we ended up in zoos, wings clipped, as our numbers dwindled. We started to hide, only twenty or so left, keeping our secret from the world.

            I am from the Cormorant Clan, my wings and hair iridescent in the sunlight. When there are chicks that do not have wings, the colors flux more freely. You, might be from the Nightingale Clan.” As she finished she studied me closely. “Open your wings,” she demanded, “I want to see the shape,” I complied, just to make her happy. Opening my wings, she nodded. “Yes, yes, definitely Nightingale. The way they slope. Also, your chestnut brown hair and gray eyes help confirm that as well.” I pondered what she said and wondered what that could mean for getting my memory back.