[note: this takes place after Max, because I LOVE Fang and I'm not writing without him. Also, please feel free to point out anything I could do better and enjoy!]

"Omg, Max, look its soooo cool!" Nudge squealed, grabbing my arm.

"I can see it," I said, brushing her off of me, "you don't have to rip off my arm."

"I can't," Iggy grumbled, "in fact, I can't see anything. But it sounds fantastic."

I rolled my eyes, and felt bad for him at the same time, it was pretty cool. Niagara Falls, in all its huge-thundering-falling-wet-don't-want-swim-in-that glory, was in front and to the left of where the flock and me were waiting in line for the boat tour. Yeah, yeah, I know what you're thinking: a boat tour, really Max? But that's what we were doing, why? You ask. Because there were a kilzzion people here, all looking up, and as much as I wanted to just fly up and look around, it wasn't happening.

"This is… okay," Fang said in my ear. "Nice choice." He slipped his hand into my mine, the one that wasn't holding the tickets for the tour. I felt my face go red.

"Max, when the tour is over, can we, like, look in the gift shop for a while?" Nudge asked. "Please?"

"Maybe," I told her. "Probably not."

"Ooh, I wanna see the gift shop too." Angel said.

I nodded, "Maybe." I repeated myself. She actually hadn't been that evil lately, it was kinda neat, but it made me worry that something bad was going to happen.

Twenty minutes later we were on the boat, wearing blue plastic ponchos -Fang wasn't wearing his, he was holding it under his arm- and staring at the falls.

Five-year-old Alley Jones, shivering despite her thick jacket, hugged her older brother's arm close. The view was so cool; looking down over the falls at the coldly shimmering, foaming, scarily beautiful water, but Alley couldn't make her mind feel the right awe for the moment. All she was could think about was the pair of silvery gray wings on her small back, and how was she going to learn to use them? Where could she find someone to teach her how to fly?

Flying teachers don't just fall out of the sky, and even if they did they wouldn't be good flying teachers, would they? Alley thought, holding Marcelle, a slightly ratty yellowish stuffed dog, close to her heart with the hand that wasn't wrapped around Conner's arm.

'I can't see, the railing's in the way!' complained Marcelle in Alley's imagination. 'Hold me up so I can see!'

Alley lifted Marcelle over the guardrail and let her look around.

'Wow!' Marcelle panted, 'this is so neat!'

"It's nice, isn't it? Conner's a good big brother; he takes us places like this, Marcy. Even if he doesn't have wings."

'But I don't have wings, Alley, am I still a good dog? Am I still your pal?'

"You're the best dog ever, you'll always be my pal, I can talk to you, I tell you everything I won't tell Conner."

'Like about Scott?'

"Yes, mostly about Scott." Alley wasn't like most five-year-olds, besides having wings; Alley remembered everything, right up to when she'd been born. Mostly she remembered her step-father, Scott Phillips, and what he'd done to her, giving her wings, and then killing her mother. He'd tried to kill Conner too, but he'd failed and Conner and Alley ran away, so Scott couldn't hurt them anymore.

'I wanna come back now, Alley, I'm getting scared.' Marcelle whimpered.

"Okay." Alley tried to pull Marcelle back in, but her hand slipped and Marcelle dropped with a splash into the water.

Alley pulled her hand out of Conner's, and ran across the viewing deck, off the edge and then to the water's edge. Marcelle had been caught between two rocks.

Taking a deep breath, Alley lumbered into the icy water. She stumbled to the place where Marcelle was and grabbed her.

Suddenly, the rock under her left foot moved, and Alley tripped forward, still clutching Marcelle, into the rush, and then over the falls.