~A Wattpad featured and Wattys Longlisted story~
Lana can hardly remember what it's like to be free. After nine years as a captive on board a ship ruled by ruthless bounty hunters, sailing across Maris with no clear direction, she's desperate for so...
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AFTER A WHILE, Lana starts to get used to flying on Firedust's back, but still holds on to some of the initial apprehension. When she looks to the side, and the sun is so close she feels like she could touch it. When puffy clouds wisp by, breaking against Firedust's scales delicately, she feels her heart beat faster as she remembers she's on a dragon, flying leagues above the sea. His wings seem so delicate; a thin membrane against the strength of the winds, but miraculously he keeps them aloft with ease, something that fascinates her.
Her breath quickly catches in her throat as the beautiful wings she was admiring change as they turn softly to their right, the movement fluid but still exhilarating to her.
"Where are we going?" she calls to Skye over the winds, and he jumps slightly, looking as if Lana had snapped him out of his thoughts.
Ever since they made their escape from the place she had lived bitterly for the past nine years, Lana feels conflicted. She can't seem to forget what happened as they fled the ship, she doesn't ever think she will, but she feels lighter somehow.
Standing there on the deck, she felt as if she was presented with an impossible choice. She could do as she had always done and stayed compliant, something that saved her from many major punishments, or she could go against everything that she had learned for a chance at escape.
Skye was standing before her, chained and trapped, and as she was frozen that man— Robert, she remembers bitterly— grabbed him. An epiphany hit her then: in all the years that she had done nothing, she had the power to do something. For once, Drax's presence and the entire crew didn't incite fear within her as she realized that maybe she finally had a chance to get off that god-forsaken ship. She felt the flames of rage burn their way through her veins for the first time in a very long time.
She didn't have to think. She just let her rage guide her movements, but as the blade made a horrible squelching sound as it went through his body, she started to feel horror at what she had done. By letting cruelty govern her, how is she any different than Drax?
The rain had long since washed away the blood from her hands, but it seems ingrained within her skin. It's not exactly guilt that she feels, but as if she hasn't truly escaped from Drax. A small part of her, even as she feels the wonderful wind against her skin as a free woman, seems to be waiting for the punishment to rain down upon her shoulders.
For the past few hours, she's been trying to quell this incessant and very obviously irrational fear. She watches the sun rise higher into the clouds until it reaches its peak, and begins to fall again. Distant islands and rocky outcroppings are visible in the gaps of the clouds, and wonder seems to be the only thing that soothes her anxiety.
