Chapter 7

Instinctively, I knew that she was unconscious from her body position. I realized that we had flown too high for her lungs to handle. I didn’t know how I was unaffected, but did not think about it. My friend was falling to her doom. Her wings were dragging, slowing her down, but I still had to make my body as aerodynamic as possible to catch her. She was far ahead and picking up speed. Racing towards her, I stretched my arms out and got beneath her. She fell into them, but I wasn’t expecting the weight, and she dragged us both down. I recovered, and was about thirty feet above the mountain peaks. Reaching an acceptable height, I pumped hard in the direction she indicated.

‘Too high, too fast. Why did I take her that high?’ I asked myself. I knew that she couldn’t handle the height, why did I take her up there?

I flew for a couple of hour’s non-stop. Finally, when I did stop, it was for a jerky and water break. I continued on, flying with Wolfe unconscious in my arms, still not making a sound. The break-neck speed was hard to maintain, but I wanted to get as far from the hunters and their deadly spears as fast as I could. I held the same pace until the sun rose. The greeting was brief, we were flying directly towards it. It was then that I thought that I could slow down a little.

“Uuhhh,” the moan came from Wolfe, still cradled in my arms. At least I knew that she was alive.  Finding a place to land, I set her against a boulder gently. Groaning, Wolfe’s eyes cracked open.

“You alright?” I asked, kneeling over her, “I’m so sorry. It was all my fault. I knew that you weren’t used to the altitude. I-,” Wolfe stopped my blabbering.

“I’m alright, you saved my life. Would shade be a thing to ask for?”

“Sure,” I said, glad to be forgiven after my mistake that nearly cost Wolfe her life. I helped her over to a spot of shade to lay in, then we removed our gear and crashed.

      We woke at about noon. No longer in the shade, we decided to move on.

      “I’m sorry about what happened this morning,” I told Wolfe again.

      “And I told you that I’m fine, don’t worry about it,” she countered.

      “Well then,” I sighed, “Each of us has air sacks beneath our lungs,” a little startled that I knew that piece of information, I continued. “They help with high altitudes and swimming. You need to learn to get the most air out of them with each breath. If you hold your lungs still, then you can still breathe with the sacks. I want to fly higher than we normally do, get you used to the high altitudes.” Wolfe looked a little nervous but nodded.

      We ran towards a boulder and took off. Leaning back, I gained altitude quickly. I reached the height that we normally flew at and looked around. Seeing Wolfe below, we gave each other some thumbs up. I continued up until I was nearly scraping the tops of the mountains below, then looked for Wolfe. She was below, looking up, struggling to get more altitude. 

      “I’m so sorry,” she gasped, “My wings are killing me,” I thought about how mine were hurting when I had to carry her, but decided against it.

      “No,” I said, “forgive me, I forgot you don’t have much flying experience. Why don’t we walk today?” I asked, remembering a little something from my damaged memory.

      “That would be awesome!” Wolfe exclaimed. Relieved to take a break.

      Gliding down to the ground, I drove straight down, snapping my wings open at the last second.  Wolfe on the other hand, lost altitude by using tight spirals to get to the ground. We soared to the ground and landed in a meadow. The trees gave a large area around the space, and the grass choked out anything else that could grow there. I simply glided down then, back-peddled with my wings to stop myself. Wolfe took the landing pretty harshly. Looking on from the side, it looked like her wings were too tired to back-peddle quickly. As she hit the ground, she cried out in pain, and I sprinted over to her.

      “Are you okay?” I asked as I reached her. My answer was answered by a tear streaked, glaring look. “Sorry, bad question,” I said, “Now, what happened?” I asked, trying to see how I could help.

      “When… I landed… my leg… gave out… and snapped,” she responded trying to hold back the sobs and grimacing. “I think, it’s broken, I need to make a splint. Although, seeing that there are no trees around here, I’ll have to make do.” She made her last statement, realizing her fate, and what it would mean for our trip.

      “I can fly you over to the trees,” I offered, “Then we could make the splint.”

      “That would be great,” Wolfe relaxed, relieved that her leg at least had a chance of healing properly.  I helped her onto one foot, then scooped her up. I did not run for take-off so that Wolfe would be in the least amount of pain for as little time as possible. I swiftly gained altitude, then used the breeze to glide over to the perimeter of the field.  The short flight ended with back-peddling, then I stayed in the air, and dropped to the ground. I tried to absorb all the shock myself, but I still heard a grunt of pain from Wolfe. She was trying very hard not to scream. At the foot of the nearest tree, I set her down. I propped her up in the roots, getting her comfortable before taking off. We each knew what to do. Wolfe started rummaging through her for more bandages. I dashed for the woods, searching for two straight sticks.

      Spying twin saplings, I used my dagger that was strapped to my leg to saw them. Stripping them of their branches, I gathered my knife after it was done. I re-sheathed it, then gathered the young trees. Pushing off quick, I leaped forward into the forest. Opening my wings, I spun and turned through the trees back to Wolfe. The two twigs were about waist high, and I found Wolfe where I left her. Reaching the doctor, I kneeled down next to her. Pulling out her knife, she grabbed one of the branches. She quickly cut through it,

      “Don’t waste time,” she told me, “Worry about length first, then make it pretty.” I had been cutting off the rest of the limbs, when she told me to stop. “Quickly,” she hurried, “There isn’t much time. The bone will start to heal wrong. I have noticed that I heal as fast as you do. I may never be able to walk again if we waste time.” She sounded really stressed about her last statement.

      “Well then,” I replied, “Less talking more strapping,” I hoped to sound determined and confident to lift her spirts. As it was, mine were pretty low. We placed the logs against her leg. Wolfe said the branches were too round, so we set to work splitting one in half. Placing one half on either side of her leg, we used the old bandages to strap them in place. As I cinched it down in place, I heard a pop, then Wolfe cried out again.

      “What is it?” I asked, worried that I just made it worse.

      “No, nothing’s wrong. You actually placed the leg right.” She said shakily.

      “Sorry about the pain,” I apologized, “Looks like we’re stuck here for a while.” I realized what this meant as I talked. That the longer we stayed here, the longer before we got to the monks who could help me with my memory. I felt guilty that I thought about myself instead of what this would mean for Wolfe.

      “From what I saw with your wing, I might only take about two weeks to heal instead of two months. I’ll be able to fly in a couple of days,” she said the last part happily, seeing the light at the end of the tunnel of injury.

      “Well then, seeing we’ll be here for a couple of days, I’ll start a fire. It’s surprising how cold it gets in the forest. Especially when you’re not flying.” I wandered back into the woods to get fallen branches. I myself was fine sleeping in the open, but I got wood for Wolfe. I knew from experience that every discomfort was amplified when you’re hurt. I gathered an armful of wood, then headed back to the edge of the forest where Wolfe was.

      Upon reaching the tree, I found that Wolfe, curled up in a ball under a light weight blanket. I could tell from the lumps underneath, that her wings were wrapped around her under the blanket.  I set down the wood, then crept over to the sleeping form. I reached out to touch her. I then thought better of it, and withdrew my hand, letting her sleep. I walked over to the other side of the tree, finding a place to sit. Relaxing against the trunk, I let out a sigh. I used a clump of roots as a pillow, and slipped into a deep, dreamless sleep.