Daniel

It was a long day of practice. Cassie started him on a series of exercises she called ‘getting to know’ his new wing.

That amounted to having Wendi stretch his appendage into as many uncomfortable positions as the bat girl could think of. Supposedly, it helped him learn ‘where’ the muscles and tendons were and the directions he could bend them without harming himself, but Daniel thought it was an excuse for Cassie to work through her sadistic tendencies.

“Pull harder Wendi! He needs to feel it!” Her zealous grin terrified him.

When the girls took a break for lunch, Daniel had nothing to show for their hours of effort but aches in places he didn’t know he had.

“Cassie, this doesn’t seem to be going well.”

“Less talking, more stretching,” she said between bites of sandwich.

As he continued to strain himself with odd movements, he heard Ziege laughing at him in his mind. The sun hit its peak. Wendi finished her meal and announced. “Alright, see you guys tomorrow morning.”

Ziege appeared and smiled malevolently at Daniel. “This is going to be fun.”

Barely restraining his shakes, he asked, “When are we getting off the ground?” Anything to get away from Ziege.

“Daniel,” Cassie said, then finished her last bite and cleared her throat. “I have bad news, good news, terrible news, and fantastic news.”

“Lay it on me.”

“The bad news is that you’re not flying today. The good news is that I think we can get you to the point you’re not floating away like a balloon before we leave. The terrible news is that we’re going to be practicing together for a long, long time.” He moaned loudly. “Have faith, Daniel. You’ve never done anything athletic in your life; believe me when I say I’m helping you. The fantastic news is that I’m almost sure you can fly with one wing. I mean, look at this thing!” She pointed at his poor, sore, tender chicken wing. “What kind of bird does it remind you of?”

He glanced at it for the hundredth time that day. A gentle rain of glittering dust fell from his unblemished white feathers in a never-ending cascade that dissipated before hitting the ground. His mother’s wings. “Not any bird in particular,” he evaded.

“Yes! That wing doesn’t belong to any bird that ever flew. It’s like the idea of flight made flesh. And one look tells you it’s made for speed! Almost reminds me of a falcon, but not quite. Decent endurance, low maneuverability. Not that any bird can match a bat there!” She shifted her hands partially toward wings and flexed her meter-long fingers. “Unless you’re a hummingbird I suppose…” Then Cassie started laughing. “Sorry, I was picturing Daniel as a hummingbird—now that’s hilarious!”

Ziege joined in immediately, but Daniel didn’t feel like it.

They spent the afternoon developing his motor control rather than learning how to flap as he’d originally thought. He learned the depth of nuance in controlling the angle and shape of how he held the wing relative to his body.

Regaining his balance proved difficult. Daniel ended up flopping whether he tried freezing in place or self-corrected. As soon as he tried standing on his own, Ziege had to keep him from falling on his face. It was like learning to skate with a leaf-blower strapped to his shoulder.

“Try gliding,” Cassie said. He looked at her helplessly from his spot sprawled on the ground. “Instead of walking or standing, focus everything on the wing.” Daniel steadied himself to prepare for the next attempt. “No, don’t move your body! Move the wing!”

The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

Wendi offered her thoughts. :Imagine you’re riding Cassie’s bat form and you stick your hand out. If you cup your fingers and angle it right, you can relax your arm without it falling.:

“The thrust of the wing and gravity balance out…” Daniel considered. True, his wing had a powerful constant thrust even when he didn’t flap it. For what seemed the thousandth time, he tried getting up.

This time, he kept his body loose, balancing solely with the thrust from his wing. His body rose off the ground, his posture straightening until his feet hovered above the dirt. He was floating. Drifting north, but floating.

“Yes! I knew you could do it!” Cassie’s joyous expression surprised and warmed him. For some reason this seemed to matter as much to her as it did to him, if not more. Then her brow furrowed, and she frowned toward camp, the message she’d received written on her face.

“Paul and I have to mind-walk now. Rana’s up first. Are you good for now, Daniel?”

He shrugged. “Sure, I’ve got an idea of what to practice. You two going in alone?”

“Yeah,” she said, a little defensively. Daniel hoped his concern hadn’t come on too strong. “You can’t hold hands with us, and we don’t want potential carriers entering each other’s Inner Worlds. That leaves the two of us for the three trips.”

As much as he didn’t like it, he shrugged and said, “Good luck.” She nodded and left.

He held steady for a few minutes, gliding around in circles with little control over where he drifted—like an amateur juggler who went chasing after his badly thrown balls—until he lost balance and mistakenly flicked his wing. Before he shot off in a random direction, Ziege caught him in her claws.

One claw-tip landed dangerously close to an artery. His heart skipped a beat, but the threat seemed to be all in his head.

Ziege helped him reset to continue the exercise. “Something’s bothering me,” she said.

“What’s that?” he asked once he’d gotten his rhythm back.

“Your posture,” the blue devil girl pointed at his spine. “With the wing holding you up, I’d expected you to start dangling after a while. Yet you’ve kept your posture despite being so weak.”

“Thanks,” Daniel said, lacing the word with sarcasm. “Seriously, though, I think it’s what Perses called my ‘Strength of Samson.’ While my control and steering muscles are weak, my posture muscles directly oppose gravity. Whenever I resist or try to overcome something, I have access to superhuman strength.”

Ziege nodded. “I guess that makes sense.”

“So, what’s flower training?”

The blue devil raised an eyebrow, but said to the air, “This conversation is private… Wendi has a fat head—There, she’s not listening.”

She cleared her throat. “Back when the real Ziege was alive, she taught me—her—how to be gentle by having Wendi pick flowers. We, I at the time, could even pluck the petals without bruising them. Except, when the bad things happened and we split, she got all those skills. I made it so she remembers learning them, but not who taught her. It’s the same with how she can speak without remembering who taught her language. I remember the Flower Training as if it happened to someone else, the memory of a memory, so I don’t have the ability.”

Hearing her talk about Wendi’s blocked memories made Daniel uncomfortable, but now he knew Ziege wasn’t one of the bad guys—she was another of Moloch’s victims. He’d help her any way he could.

“Just because you didn’t get those memories doesn’t mean you can’t make new ones. If it’s an acquired skill, then what’s stopping you from re-learning it?”

Grumbling, she answered, “Nothing.”

“Can you stop using Wendi’s abilities?” Ziege nodded. “Try picking up that daisy.” He motioned with his eyes; pointing at this stage of his training would be disastrous. The interconnected muscle movements of his arms and legs influenced his wing in ways he didn’t yet understand.

Slowly, Ziege extended her claws to the flower. Her nervous fingers completely shredded the plant without even trying. She turned and glared at him.

“Don’t look at me. If training were easy I’d be flying around up—woah!” He pointed at the sky and lost his balance.

Ziege lunged and thrust her claws to catch him. Daniel gasped and shut his eyes tight. When he opened them, he was safe in her hand.

She chuckled darkly. “You thought I’d forgotten to turn Wendi’s Flower Training back on for a second there.” Embarrassed, he smiled and shrugged in admission. “I thought we’d started over. Is that any way to treat a new friend?”

“I guess we all make mistakes.” They laughed together at that.

:Daniel, Ziege, return to camp,: Rana sent.

“Sounds like they’re alive. That’s a relief,” he said.

The blue devil girl walked him back to camp. Riding in her claw became possible with his wing oriented to propel instead of anchored in place. Ziege’s fingers began to wander on his body before suddenly stopping.

“How do you and Wendi keep this from getting awkward?” she asked by way of apology.

“I choose not to think about it,” he said, unoffended.

“Private conversation over… Wendi has a fat head—”

:Hey!:

“She’s back.”