Hello, peoples! Now, I know what a couple of you are thinking; I'm working on my PJO story as we speak. But, I just wanted to make a story about what would happen if Max and Fang had a daughter! I'm going to do one for House of Night, too, then meld them all together in this heart-stopping prophecy that will mean life or death to two worlds…..so I have to make individual stories for each character. So, enjoy!

Disclaimer: I do not own Maximum Ride, or anyone associated with her,

Claimer: I do own Dakoda, so no stealing.

"Hey, Koda! Are you home?" Aunt Nudge yelled. I could hear her bag make a hollow thump on the floor as she dropped it in the walkway, slipping out of her shoes as she walked. She strolled up to me, cocking her head to the side.

"Dakoda Armania Ride, what are you doing?"

I shrugged from my perch on the couch.

I was currently sitting upside-down on our black-leather loveseat, my feet dangling off of the backboard, watching a fish documentary. I had originally planned on changing it, but once I realized the remote was out of reach, I gave up and watched it. Aunt Nudge bent over me.

"Still feelin' like crap?" she asked, touching my cheek. I snorted back a laugh.

"What are the odds of a bird-kid getting the bird flu? I mean, if you think about it, it's almost comical. I'm stuck sitting here, in the house, while the rest of you get to go out. It sucks." I grumbled, yanking at my shirt, which was falling, showing my naval and a good portion of my wings in the process.

Aunt Nudge laughed, shaking my feet in between her hands.

"You sound so much like your mom. Are you sure you're not the same person? 'Cuz I mean, Fang loves you so much he'd like to hug and squeeze you until you're no more, and your tougher than nails, even though I'd bet you your mom could eat them if she put her mind to it. Oh ew, those would taste gross, I mean the taste of metal is – " I cut her off.

"Aunt Nudge, my ears are bleeding! Lay off with the speech!" I yelled, holding my head between my hands. She just laughed and walked into the kitchen.

"Your mom will be home soon; I suggest you get cleaned up." Aunt Nudge mumbled around a strawberry, crouched in front of our fridge. I sat up attentively, watching her.

"Momma's coming home? What about Daddy?" I couldn't keep the childish excitement out of my voice.

You see, my parents are currently somewhere in Africa, teaching a bunch of stuff about world peace and talking to CSM scientists about the school and Itex, whom of which we have yet to beat down. The headquarters is somewhere in Bulgaria, and my parents are secretly tracking their every move.

The only down side of this is the CSM insisted I stay home.

My parents had me when they were 15 years old. It wasn't the smartest thing they'd ever done, and mom hated me. She hated how the unborn child inside her violently kicked her abdomen and made her vulnerable to threats, especially when they were still on the run. But, that's what you get when you don't use protection.

I snickered at the thought of this, standing up and stretching my hands to the sky.

My mom doesn't hate me now. She loves me; She always says I was the greatest thing she'd ever been blessed with. I prayed she was telling the truth.

But Daddy….

I know what you're thinking; So your dad doesn't like you? No, that's not it at all.

I'm considered Daddy's Little Devil. He used to call me his Angel, but then I started my devious phase (courtesy of my mother), and he found Devil more fitting. Dad and I are really close, and always have been. He's your stereotypical dad; lets me sit on his shoulders at the 4th of July parade, comes into my room and tickles me when I'm having a bad day, and would probably hurt my boyfriend (whenever and if I got one).

The only difference?

He'd just drop the kid on his head in the air.

Back up in my room, I spread my wings cautiously.

Black.

They were black as night, with tiny white speckles dotting the pin feathers in shapes like stars. Running my fingers down them, I faced the mirror.

At 7, I was starting to look way too much like my mother for anyone's liking. I had all of her face; cheekbones, nose, lips, forehead, ears. I also had her sun-kissed blonde hair, a mixture of auburn reads, honey blonde's, milk whites, deep browns and an unsightly orange-ish color. My hair was pretty to say the least; it was thick, and fell down my face in waves. Mom promised me when she got back we'd get it cut really short like I wanted it, up to my chin and spikey.

Then there's my eyes.

I had Dad's eyes, 100%. So dark of a brown they were almost black, everyone said my eyes held the same unreadable depth as his. Even so that my mother always jokes that "I already have one annoyingly quiet bird kid, please don't give me another one". I smiled at the memory, just as a small knock came on my door.

"Come in!" I yelled, flopping down on my bed and skimming through my sketchbook. I was artsy, kind of like Daddy. He was talented, he just didn't like to show it.

"You know, I could have been a rapist or something. You would have never known, would you?"

I laughed at Esme's sharp voice. Esme was one of Uncle Iggy's kids; he had 12. All of this was because of a funny, bubbly girl he met the year I was born, and they fell in love.

I loved my Aunt Riyann; she was exotic in the way she walked, talked, and thought. She also had a hunger for the strange…this is why each of her children have a name that starts with the same letter.

Here's a list from oldest to youngest:

Ezavior, Ever, Emerson, Esme, Evie, Emory, Elodie, Ezemandias, Elsie, Ethena, Ezrieanna, and Eriyn. 3 boys, 9 girls. Uncle Iggy is so lucky, huh?

"So, what goes on?"

I smiled at Esme once I quit zoning, and motioned for her to sit next to me.

"Not a lot. How 'bout you?"

She smiled evilly at me, and I groaned; I just got her started.

"Well, now that you ask…"

I laughed at her as she launched into an animated conversation about teachers, doughnuts, cream cheese wars, Harry Potter, Texas Chainsaw Massacre, spaghetti-O's, and salt cubes, using her hands to exemplify her point. She was a natural born story-teller; she gets it from her mother.

"Hey, Koda, someone's here to see you."

Aunt Angel stuck her head in the door, face drawn, serious. I stood up cautiously, following her back down the stairs.

I loved what I saw there.

There stood my daddy, his big dark eyes trained on me, arms wide.

I launched myself at him, tackling him down to the floor. He caught me, supprised, but then hugged me back. I squeezed him, then looked up at his face.

"Why are you frowning, Daddy? You're home."

I looked around the room, catching everyone in the rooms' eye. The whole Flock was in there, as well as all of my cousins.

I noticed there was someone that wasn't present.

"Daddy?" I asked, tugging on his sleeve. "Where's Mommy?"

I felt him shudder, burying his face in my hair. I felt something wet on my head; was he crying?

"I don't know, Koda." His voice broke on my name. "I just don't know."

OOOH, CLIFFIE! *Evil smile* Did you like that? Comment if you like it, and want me to continue! So, nightie night for me! Larger update next time!

~Elsie