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07-14-2016, 06:14 PM
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rhoa I WALK IN THE AIR, BETWEEN THE RAIN, THROUGH MYSELF & BACK AGAIN. To where? I don't know (I am 100% the worst. I am SO sorry) His words strike me as if in a dream. Would he truly come to the Throat? Joy fills me so suddenly and strongly that I almost feel as though I need to take a step to steady myself. Instead, my wings shift to help me balance this emotional high I am suddenly flying on. Images of us flying over the bloody sands, of introducing him to my Father – who would be his Khal and grandfather – fill my mind. I could show him the Oasis, the fire bridge … Show him where Ivezho and I learned to fly and all the secret places that only boys who have grown up on the sands of the Throat know. I could take him away from this place of cold and mist, from his mother who tried to abandon him to an even colder world, and bring him to the light and the sun. But is he only saying that to appease me? Would he willingly go, or is this some misguided attempt to merely bridge the gulf between us? “Nothing would make me happier than to have you with me. But remember, it must be your choice. Even though you are young, this life is yours to live.” He speaks of flying, and I can’t but help laugh a little. “That’s another benefit of the Throat my son,” I point towards the rocky cliffs and boulders that surround us with one of my wings, “the sand is much more forgiving when you fall on it.” I laugh, for I have fallen many and many a time into the warm embrace of the sands. “And of course I will teach you. Have all of your flight feathers come in?” I consider him showing him exercises to strengthen the muscles in his wings even before he tries to fly, but halt my enthusiasm. One step at a time. |
