Over the next week, I healed. When I eventually Changed back, my injured wing transferred to my human back and arm. Black and blue bruises formed an irregular pattern across my pale skin. David, more absent than usual, had thankfully stocked the fridge. I had enough to eat, and I'm sure it contributed to my speedy recovery.
On the seventh day, I woke in my shifted form. I immediately unfurled my wings. The light streaming through the boarded window set them aglow. A lingering stiffness had me stretching, claws needing my blue comforter. I shook, wings brushing against my scaled hide, and leapt neatly from my bed. I caught the air, flapped once, and then landed, braced for that now familiar blaze of pain. It came, but muted, a candle to the bonfire I'd felt a week ago. Delighted, I trilled, and then belatedly searched for David by ear. The house was empty.
With spirits high, I padded into the living room, even going so far as to forego breakfast. I scrambled onto the back of the sofa. Today I would fly! Briefly, David's order echoed between my ears, freezing me in place. Never do that again. Never fly, never feel the heat of well-worked flight muscles, never see the floor whiz below me. With a snort, I shook the feeling off. David had been...wrong. The thought - the idea that my leader could ever fail me - threatened to knock me off balance again. My nostrils flared and I consciously turned my mind back to the task at hand.
I had become used to flying every day. Going without, even for a week, had left me longing. I stretched out my neck, and flicked my tongue to instinctively taste the air. As always, the atmosphere of the house was still.
In my excitement I carelessly snapped out my wings, and then winced at the resulting dart of pain. I had to take it easy. Gathering strength low in my legs, I launched.
I flapped, smooth and slow. So far, so good. I banked to circle the living room. The movement stretched something not-quite-healed and I flinched, lessening the angle of the turn. The boarded window loomed above the couch, suddenly in my path. I frantically backbeat, but my injured wing seized. I slammed into the wood, jamming my claws into the cracks between the boards. Trembling, I gingerly folded my wings back, and twisted my neck to judge the distance to the sofa.
Crack!
The board I was clinging to gave a jerk. I whipped my head back around in time to be blinded by a beam of sunlight. Then the wood gave and I fell, hitting the hard back of the sofa. My breath escaped in a grunt. I tumbled onto the cushions, bounced, and hit the floor. An instant later, the board landed on my tail. I cried out and curled it towards me.
As I huddled on the floor, sorting out my various limbs and checking for any serious damage, I slowly became aware of the bright light warming my scales. I peered up at the window, the absent board leaving a gap the width of my head. That gap glowed, warm and bright. When I looked away, there were spots in my vision.
Curiosity overcoming caution, I crawled back up the sofa, the ache in both my tail
and wing forgotten. When I rose up on my hind legs and stretched my neck out to the fullest, I set eyes on the outside for the first time in memory.
I hadn't even caught glimpses through the front door; it led to a covered patio and David was always careful to never have the two doors open at the same time. Every window in the house was boarded up. Until that moment, it had been like the outside world hadn't existed anywhere but on TV. You can't want something you don't know exists. Did I ever want it now.
The backyard was fenced in and uncared for. The worn deck was covered in dead leaves from the large tree overhanging it, and the grass was long. The sun, yellow and warm, hung low in the sky. I could see it just peaking over the fence line.
I wrenched at the next lowest board. It bowed toward me, loose. I pulled again, using both paws and digging my claws in. The nails pulled suddenly from their moorings and my tail slapped the back of the sofa, countering my wildly shifting balance. The board dropped into the crack between the wall and my perch. Snorting in pleasure at the widened gap, I set my claws into the lowest board. It was tighter, but this had not been the first time over the last three years I'd collided with these boards; they were old and battered. I bared my fangs and threw my weight behind my pull. The board came free, but I had been prepared for it. My hind claws dug into the cushion and my tail stiffened. I stayed where I was as the board fell to join it's brethren behind the sofa.
The window sill was full of dead flies and dust. I scored the glass with my claws, but it was thicker than I'd anticipated. I left nothing but four white scratches. I tried again, just in case, but, no, I wasn't getting out that way.
I eyed the window impatiently. There was a lever above the sill. From several different directions, I poked and prodded at it. It seemed immovable. Then, I leaned my whole weight and it resisted for an instant before giving way. There was a sound, like a seal releasing, and then I could smell fresh air. I pushed on the glass and it swung open with a screech that had me folding my ears back.
Without a backward glance, I crawled out and dropped to the deck, wings open to buoy my fall. My wings filled with a sound like the crisp snap of sheets. Without even flapping, the wind picked me up. For an instant, I was so surprised I almost let it slam me back into the brick of the house. I cupped my wings and let the updraft carry me up, up, up. I stared, delighted, as the ground sank away. I was so high. I had never been so high.
Experimentally, I flapped, pushing forward. I lost the updraft and began to spiral downward. I circled, finding it again. The warmer current caught me and lifted. I trilled, the sound mixing with the songs of the morning birds.
I sported in the updrafts for hours, always staying close to the house. Eventually, when I grew hungry, I scanned the ground for anything good to eat. The movement of a neighbour's cat caught my eye. It too was hunting, and I was leery of taking on something almost rivalling me in size.
The quick flash of a sparrow caught my eye. I circled toward it, but the bird saw my shadow and flitted away, too fast to follow. I circled again, searching the neighbour's yard once more. The cat may have been too large, but the prey it stalked was perfect for us both. My sharp eyes caught movement in the grass: a rodent of some kind.
I dove, wind slicing across the tiny scales on my face. Instinctively, my second, clear eyelid dropped down. I hadn't even known it existed until that moment. I pulled up sharply at the last moment to drop claws-first onto my target. They sank into something furred. My catch screamed in it's death-throes.
The cat, hair standing on end, hissed angrily at me, and swiped the the air with its claws. I hissed back, flicking my forked tongue. The cat made a movement like it would leap for me. I flared out my wings to look three times larger, and it thought better of attack. The cat hissed once more to save face, and then padded away like I wasn't worth the effort. I snorted, and then devoured my meal - a chipmunk - in several quick bites. I left the tail alone: too fluffy.
