Blood Rising by A M Proctor

Author:A M Proctor
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Tags: Blood Rising
Published: 2020-04-30T04:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

Wings and Beasts

Jah and Rah were excited when I told them about the party they had invited me to. They immediately began plotting what I should wear. Even when I told them it wasn’t a fancy party, they insisted that none of these deities did anything plain. Since I haven’t ventured into the village, I let them take the reins of my appearance with the only stipulation that whatever I wear needed to be backless.

Together we’d altered all my tops to backless numbers. While I didn’t have the skills that Jah had with clothing, I was proud of the sewing skills I developed. Atalanta offered to buy my clothing, but she already provided our housing and fed us. It wasn’t pride that kept me from accepting the gifts. It was my trust issues. Though I considered her a friend, I didn’t want to owe her more than I already did.

I exercised my wings three times a night outside, of course. They’d stopped flopping out unexpectedly, mostly. They no longer made me fall over now that I’d learned how to balance. I could lift them and move them now, but I was still a long way from flying.

Mason was missing from his spot when I stepped outside. It was late though, I’d spent a long time playing with my girls. Inara was already starting to take tentative baby steps while Leila seemed to have no interest in walking. I mean, why walk when someone could carry you?

Unleashing my wings, I noted that the sharp pain had lessened. My skin healed when I put them away so every time they came out, my skin would rip. I started with the normal lift, lower, lift, exercises. Then moved on to lift, open, close, lower. Flapping proved more difficult.

These bitches had power and lift. The first time my wings flapped, I blew backwards ten feet. I know I can fly. That’s not my issue. Controlling the flight is the issue. I moved them slowly back and forth, shifting my weight as I did to keep from losing my balance. Slowly developing the muscles I’d need for flight.

I focused on the air flowing through my feathers. I never gave feathers much of a thought before, but I can feel them. More so at the root where the quill goes into the wing, but I could still feel the air on the tips of each feather.

I’m truly not a bird person. My adopted sister got a cockatiel for her birthday one year. That little asshole terrorized me for years till he got loose one day. I’ll maintain till the day I die, I had nothing to do with that evil bastard getting out.

If I am a creature of the air, shouldn’t I like birds? Nope. They still make me nervous. Bird bites hurt. As my inner dialog about bird hating went on and on, the air on my outspread wings tickled my feathers. I was so distracted that I didn’t realize that I’d lifted until my toes grazed the grass.

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