CLUTTER
IV. Recollections While Flying
The air above the volcano is warm.
There is math about that. Scientific rules.
I hate that junk. I don't care.
I fly.
Strongwings is better at this than I am.
Can't let him know that.
Smoke in the air.
We talk. We joke.
A dare passed to me.
I shout back. I'll do it. I'm going to do it.
Higher and higher. I fly over the fortress.
Strongwings yelling.
Look back.
He is following me.
I almost laugh. Almost.
what you didn't think i would do it just watch me
That's how StrongWings is. How it always goes.
told you i could i told you strongwings
Last week we snuck out.
The other side of the island.
Beneath the stars.
Black and gray and stars.
Now a blue sky.
But the same place. The same smoke.
Not escape.
I circle back.
I will swoop over the volcano.
I will do the dare.
That's how it always goes.
Smiling smugly.
Strongwings admits it.
I am an awesome flier.
Ha.
We go together. Strongwings and I. Just two.
Down toward the beach.
Black sand. Sharp rocks.
The water is loud.
Crashing waves. Over and over.
We can rest here.
We chat. It's fun. Boring but fun.
I like it. I do.
We talk about class. That teacher. Sneaking out again.
I call him dumb. He calls me a jerk. Neither of us meant it.
Strongwings knows.
I remember the rainforest. Green. Wet.
I want to go there again.
Maybe we can get past the guards. Maybe.
A wing over mine. Hugging me.
Warmth.
Strongwings says something.
I don't hear it.
I want to go there again.
I want to leave.
Looking over my shoulder.
Gray sky over a volcano that rumbles.
One day it will happen. One day it will explode.
I tell him. I want to leave, is what I say.
Then I say it again.
Throat hurts. Words come out quiet.
Distant noise. The waves.
Strongwings kicks the sand.
He lets go of me. He asks a question.
"Why?"
I think about it.
I don't know the answer.
Wind.
Cold and then warm.
Rising then falling.
Under me. Over me.
I do a flip. A sloppy flip.
Strongwings admires it anyway.
We cough. Both of us.
A cloud of cruddy air.
Spat out by the volcano.
I can relate. I breathe fire too.
And sometimes I make others scared.
But I won't blow up.
We fly in circles.
I think.
Don't think about leaving.
Don't think about why.
Dang it. Now I'm thinking about that.
I look down. Neck aches. Rub it.
Below me. Long, dark lines. Bubbly rock. Dried up lava.
The west side of the island.
I see it. A clump of dead bushes.
I used to sit there.
Strongwings does not know.
A pause in my head.
Then I think of it all. I think of it all and I remember.
I remember the sky.
Dirty yellow.
The dirt smelled good, so I laid down.
It was quiet. I hated it. I hated the quiet.
I stood up. I stomped around.
It didn't help.
I cursed and cursed and cursed.
It didn't help.
I hit the ground. I threw a stone. I burned a dead tree.
I watched it and I liked it. The heat. The noise.
Crack. Crack. Crack.
I wished it was a dragon, any dragon. Someone mean.
Then I lowered my head. I touched my cheeks. My own face.
Kicked up some dirt. Put out the fire.
It didn't help.
I sat down in the bushes. I looked at the sky and saw the sunset color. Dirty yellow.
Yuck. I hate the color yellow.
Closed my eyes.
Thought about things.
Morrowseer. Prophecy. Mother. Egg.
Not me. Not me. Not me.
It wasn't me.
It wasn't my destiny.
Not mine. Not ever.
I wanted it to be. I wanted it to be my prophecy.
What a stupid thought. Back then, I was stupid.
I was young.
Breathing fast. Don't know why.
Strongwings doesn't notice. He is looking ahead.
I want to say something.
I don't.
A thought. No. Wait.
A memory.
Went home after watching the yellow sky.
I flew. I was slow.
My wings were little. I was young.
Dark. No stars.
The clouds made it black.
In the fortress. Loud footsteps.
The hall. The caves. The fifth one.
Stomped in. Glared.
Found her with a fat white candle.
Sighing.
Writing numbers.
I yelled at her.
Quiet.
Mother. That's what I yelled.
She looked at me.
Then she looked at her numbers.
A sketch on the wall. The first step.
Next, a painting. An ugly painting. She would make it.
I pointed. I yelled.
She explained, but the words came out quiet.
She glanced back. Numbers.
She kept talking. Softly.
Don't wake Quickstrike, is what she said. She's next door. She's sleeping.
I didn't care. That made her angry.
So I said his name.
And I kept saying it.
Did it help?
She was crying. She wouldn't do it. She wouldn't.
So I made her say it.
I made her remember.
Silentkill.
My father's name.
Did it help?
Left wing hurts.
We will stop soon. We will get tired.
Then we will go back and sleep.
And tomorrow someone old will yell at us.
But we will still do this again.
I look down. I want to smile.
I can't.
On the beach, he asked me, Why?
I remember. I know the answer.
It is too late to tell him.
Leave now. Leave NOW.
Too late to tell him.
Silentkill.
The name.
Over and over.
I will never forget.
My mother screamed the name.
Silentkil. Silentkill. Silentkill.
But then she stopped.
And there was another name.
She said it softly.
Mastermind.
Strongwings laughing.
Good. Nice sound.
Loud and sincere. Like he means it.
Laughing back at him.
Now.
I make up my mind.
No more remembering.