The wind rushes past me, whirling into the concave below. "Are you sure this is safe?" I ask.

"Wingspan optimal, feathers fully grown, wind currents sufficient… there is no logical reason why you shouldn't be able to take flight." He answers.

I dance around the edge on my tiptoes, afraid of which way to take off. Do I let myself fall? Jump? Leap? I take a deep breath and let the air chill my lungs before hesitantly teetering off the rim.

For a moment I'm freefalling toward the river, rapids coursing over stone with quicksilver speed and the vision of me plastered across the sharp edges in a canvas of blood. And then I stretch out my wings and glide across the surface of the water, giggling as the spray tickles my face.

If only I could feel this good all the time.