Hello again. When I woke up today it was to numerous problems and no clear solutions.

Problem one, how to get out of here.

Huh. I guess that's just one problem really. I looked around for inspiration, kicked at the floor a little. Wandered around a bit. Double checked the dark hallway, still no stairs.

As I lazed against the warm tree munching idly on one of the glow fruits, my gaze was caught by the tomb. I toddled over, one of my legs asleep from my inactivity, and looked upon the winged woman atop the tomb. 

She was beautiful. Short silky looking hair, high cheekbones and big eyes. Slim shoulders and a petite body over all. She seemed to give off an aura of peace and joy. Illusionary music and laughter conjured into my mind by her winsome smile. 

Altogether, an inviolable innocent. Someone to protect from the storms of the world. That this was her grave was saddening. That one who appeared so alive was just a carving of cold stone was both a measure of the carvers skill, and a great loss for the world.

The one exception to her weak and fragile look were her wings. They overtopped her by a large margin. Enveloping her in stone waves of feather and bone. They looked able to lift the sky, to carry one away from the world and its troubles.

It was then, as I gazed upon the carved wings that inspiration struck a hammer blow to my mind.

Of course! All I had to do was craft wings of fire and fly out the hole in the ceiling! Brilliant, if I do say so myself.

Naturally it wasnt as easy as I had hoped. To express and shape that amount of flame took all my effort. To then control those flames? With my already shaky abilities after eating those fruits? Difficult. 

Honestly, if I hadn't eaten those fruits I wouldn't even be able to express that volume of fire. And I had never tried to shape my flames once they were outside of me. It kinda felt like holding in a sneeze. On your back. Hard to do without losing control and blowing it.

This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

So I practiced. Staring at the statues wings and molding fire in my cupped hands to form a basic shape then tryng to make that same shape but larger on my back. The poncho kept getting in my way so I shucked it off and tucked it into the satchel.

Huh. Now that I think of it, how did I fit a size five poncho into a size two satchel? I even put all those fruits in it too. Hm. that's odd.

Anyway, I managed to form wings after much effort. With even more effort, and several very loud cursing sessions to relieve stress, I managed to fly!

About a handspan off the floor. Then I fell on my face.

More cursing ensued.

It would seem that while I had enough control to form and flap my new wings the wings themselves lacked enough firepower to get real lift.

So I ate more of the glow fruits. With every one my flames grew in speed and magnitude. Becoming easier to express and exploding with force, but becoming ever harder to control and rein in.

This cycle continued. Eat, flap, fly, fall, curse, eat. On and on and on. until finally I could sustain my flight. I flew happily about, or rather I tried. My first attempt at doing anything other than rise straight up led to a smashing reunion with the firm stone that made up the floor.

And so my pursuit of true flight continued. Massive wings of flames founting and flapping behind my back. Pushing me through the air with speed and force. Only to smash into the walls or floor or tree. Those beautiful murals are looking a little worse for wear.

Finally, I formed smaller wings at my wrists and ankles to allow me to better control my direction and orientation. More practice, and curses, later I had pretty much managed to only crash most the time instead of all the time.

So I headed to the ceiling. powering my way through the air angling towards the hole that showed the sun had already gone down. 

Well, I made it to the hole. And I made through the hole.

Mostly.

The hole was smaller than I thought. The speed I was going managed to force my head shoulders and one arm out. Sadly my satchel caught on the edge. I managed to wiggle and worm the journal out, but my legs from the hips down are just dangling in the breeze. 

My head emerged in a small forest clearing. I can see some trees, maybe a bush and what could possibly be an unmentionable horror, or perhaps a tree stump. The sun's down, its dark, cut me some slack. 

It's been a long day. Tomorrow will probably be long too so I'd better get some sleep.

Goodnight