ultima

By the time she got back from the Falls, her shoulders were tight, her nose was running, and a thick blot of clouds had eclipsed the harvest moon. The lake lurched out of the shadows. The rain lurched out of the sky, pitter-pattering across the arch of her wings as she sank towards the shore. And in her chest (which suddenly felt much too large for it, like a well to a pebble) her heart lurched out of the long bowed ribs. She tried to pretend it was well within the math of a long solo flight, ducking beneath the woven canopy for shelter; cold air, dizzying drop, navigating only by strange stars – it was thrilling! And frightening! A year ago, she’d never have imagined making it so many miles on her own! 

On her back, Snapdragon mewled softly.

“It is funny, isn’t it?” Just barely graduated from the flight programme, and already she was going farther and farther away from— Home, she thought tentatively. 

The quickness with which it’d become her roosting place astounded her, as if she’d never properly thought about it before. The Edge had always been a pivot for her grand forays into this broad, broad prison. To the Blue, to the Rotunda, to the Meadow: no matter how many miles she trekked, by sundown she’d skip back through the front door, trilling about the things she’d done and seen, tracking sand and primrose petals as she went. She’d become so attuned to the sound of glass crunching underfoot, and the hundred little winding paths that led to her nest in the woods; closing her eyes, she could visualize every knoll and buttress root perfectly, even the ones she hadn’t at one point stumbled over, and especially the one Snapdragon had been born in.

Her contentment was almost overwhelming. She’d learned to fly here; Snapdragon had been born here; Maude had been born here; this was where Tilney was always waiting for her, ready with a smile to hear of her adventures. Without a shadow of a doubt, Ultima knew that she did like it here, in the West.

But.

What was it that the Mountain had said? A place to exist, versus a place to grow? 

Across the lake the rain soared to a crescendo and then dimmed, intermittently. It was peaceful without any wind; she could smell the earth and the plants reaching ever upwards, and if she focused she could hear the last leaves chiming like bells as they shook overhead. Pine trees rattling gently, branches swaying and shaking – beautiful. Snapdragon mewled again, pressing against the arch of her neck.

Was it greed to choose? Was it greed if the only thing she wanted was what she’d lost? Or was it greed because rather than any matter of place, it was Tilney (and Maude and Gawen and Alysanne and Lyanna and) who was not enough?

But. But, but.

“I don’t know.”