Fly

Chapter 17

We came down in what I assumed was a park or a wildlife preserve or maybe a woodland restoration. I wasn't sure, but the ancient overgrown barn in the middle of the woods next to a stream argued for abandonment in the very least.

My landing wasn't the greatest.

I had to weave a little as trees started reaching up from the darkness, their new leaves seeming like claws on the tips of long fingers, snaking up out of the night to drag me down. I told Dane to 'hang on!' and fought to keep from flapping too much. Then the small clearing opened up beneath me and I dove for it, not thinking anything except that we needed to be on the ground. NOW.

I backwinged hard at the last second, skidding sideways as I heard Dane yelp and start to slide over one side of my shoulders. I braced my claws and leaned the other direction like a motorcycle rider going around a steep curve. He clung on, as I lurched to a stop and slumped to the ground, every muscle aching and trembling, both with tension and fatigue.

It took us several moments to notice the structure looming over us. If I had skidded for longer, I would have slammed right into the front wall. I panted, inspecting the place as well as I could from the ground, looking for any signs of occupants.

Closed shutters on all the Dutch doors and windows. Peeling paint. A large rusty padlock on the massive double front doors, looking over a yard full of weeds with no tire tracks - all of these things told me that it had been closed up and forgotten a long time ago. I stood carefully, adjusting Dane so that he was still on my back and didn't need to walk (he was still recovering from having his ribs repeatedly jarred during the landing) then, I proceeded forward. Alert for anything that might bring us trouble.

I ignored the padlocked doors and went around the side, trying each of the five Dutch doors until I found one that I could pry open. I slid my claws around the edge of the top half and it stuck for a moment, then jerked loose in a shower of dust. I shook my head and snorted like a horse, trying to clear my nose before I had to sneeze. A faint clang on the ground told me that the rusted lock - no more that a simple sliding bolt, really - had snapped of when I pulled.

I extended my neck through the hole, one of my horns snagging a drifting cobweb. Peering around in the darkness, my eyes adjusted quickly and I was able to see the interior of the stable area.

The stall I had my head in was completely empty, the floor scraped clean except for a few loose shavings of wood and a thick layer of dust, with only a few rodent tracks through it. All in all, much better than what I was expecting to find - which was a pile of rusty machinery or a bunch of moldy, mouse-infested straw.

I arched my neck and eyed the bolt on the lower half of the door, snorting heavily to blow the dust off of it, before snagging it with the soft-beak structure on the end of my muzzle and pulling the bolt back. It took a couple tries, during which Dane began to try to sit up slightly on my back.

With a scrape and a clack, the latch drew back, and I stepped forward, pushing the lower half of the door open with my chest. I had to lift my wings over my back, carefully so as not to jostle Dane. I realized as they filled the upper half of the doorway, brushing the frame all the way around, that I had gotten bigger again. I was now the size of a thoroughbred horse, though with a slimmer build, and a much deeper chest to accommodate a huge set of flying muscles and to give my lungs more space. 

I crept softly into the barn, the stall I was in echoing my claws as they scraped the floor. I nudged at the inner door with my nose and found it swung freely. The floor was difficult to see, even with my vision, and I crept along carefully, looking for a stack of haybales or an old storage room that might contain horse blankets. I found neither on the first floor, so after a few minutes of searching I approached the stairs leading to the loft.