Minimum Ride

A Maximum Ride Fan Fiction

Chapter 4: One Reward

After my run-in with the goverment wanna-be van, I picked up the pace toward the park. I turned left, this time having to walk somewhat on the shoulder of the road, instead of a sidewalk. I walked about 30 feet and stopped, surveying the park with my advanced raptor eye sight. After deciding that a team of joggers with strollers, the usual amount of clueless toddlers, and ducks in the pond weren't much of a threat, I looked both ways before crossing the road. I trotted across, not wanting to mix it up with any on-coming traffic.

I walked across a section of the walking track, giving the jogger moms a innocent smile, and then headed through the toddler-grade playground equipment to the edge of the woods. I didn't hesitate, plunging through the tree line and into one of my favorite spots.

My eyes took in the familiar scene: a long, narrow clearing with a few rocks at one end, a deserted tree house at the other. This place held two of the best ways for a take off. I held my finger to my chin and looked at the sky in mock thought. I smiled and ran to the tree house, deciding on my favorite way to get airborne. I grabbed the first wooden board at eye level and put my foot on the one closest to the ground. Smiling, I began to climb.

Once I reached the trap door at the top I pushed it open. I climbed into the small tree house, thankful I was light enough not to fall through the rotting wood. I went over to the largest window, facing the clearing. I took a moment to marvel at how high up this tree house was. Maybe two stories, an unusual height for a tree house, but who cares? Sure as heck not me.

I jumped onto the window ledge, holding the window frame for support. I smiled, thinking of what I was going to do next. I jumped, my light brown hair - no doubt bleached from the sun - streamed behind me, getting caught in a tangle. I loved this. I snapped out my wings, a near ten and a half feet from tip to tip, light blonde primary feathers followed by the lightest of brown secondary feathers. The brown then darkened as the rows of feathers went farther up my wings, ending with a rich mahogany at the top, speckled with white.

I gave a few down strokes and I was high in the air, trying to get out of sight of the people in the park. I flew the opposite direction of the park, heading toward home. I circled back when I hit the edge of the woods, loving the feeling of being high, high enough to where no one could see me or touch me.