Of Spinning Gold and Song

| Eleven | The Hurt

I was flying.

It was a funny thing, flying. Looking down and around at nothing but the air, and perhaps a bit of land so far, far below, having absolutely nothing to support myself with--it shouldn't have been possible. But it was, and it felt more natural than anything. I didn't feel unsteady; I felt perfectly safe and that was crazy but okay.

In fact, it was weird that normal people didn't think of flying as a perfectly acceptable and normal thing to do. It was as comfortable as walking. The wind was a perfect cushion of ground. It was clear, crisp, and clean. It was great. I could only think of one possible thing that might make it better, and that was if Rosie was here with me.

The second I thought that I looked up to see my sister herself flying right next to me, skin glowing from happiness, hand raised in a cheerful wave, eyes sparkling with joy. I felt a small smile creep across my face. It was perfect.

It was perfect until a second later when I looked down and discovered, much to my chagrin, that she was not, in fact, riding the wind like I was. Rather, she was mounted on that terrible, horrible, disturbing, grotesque dragon beast. She put her arm down from waving and wrapped it around the monster's thick scaly neck, snuggling closer to the prickling spines jutting out from it.

"Rosie!" I shrieked, all my false happiness dissipating like the small puffs of cloud around me that were quickly disappearing as well, funnily enough. "Get off that thing! It's dangerous!"

She shook her head. The bright smile fell off her face and was replaced with a grim, worried expression. It was strange having my little sister look at me like that, and I was one hundred percent certain that I hated it. I was the responsible older child. She was the baby of the family. Such was the way of life.

"I'm fine," she said lightly. "Just trust me. Let go."

"Let go? Of what?" I didn't even try to keep the bewildered tone out of my voice. The air around us was darkening by the second, the clouds turning to a murky grey like the skies were about to open up and pour. I had lived in rainy Lyvens my whole life; I knew how to read the clouds. Suddenly flying in the unpredictable and wild sky didn't seem so nice anymore.

"Just let go," Rosie echoed, and there was something beeseching about her tone that compelled me to think again about my prejudice. I closed my eyes, trying my best to shed my cares away, feeling them wash away from me with the wind. I would do anything for my little sister. I'd always known that.

When I opened my eyes again, the smile had returned to her face, but it was different now. It wasn't cheerful and and carefree anymore. It was melancholy. Accepting. Nostalgic. And something else; there was something mature about that face. "Let go."

Everything changed in an instant. I wasn't flying anymore. I was falling. The wind wasn't my friend, it was a cruel foe that would drop me to my death. It came rushing around me, rocking my stomach until my sister and everything else faded into bright nothingness, pierced only by my high pitched scream that filled the air.

---

I sat up with a start, panting heavily and gasping for air. As soon as I did, I knew it was a mistake. I didn't know where I was; all I knew was the intense and stabbing pain shooting through my cheek, the unpleasant throbbing and pulsating beat pounding out a rhythem in my head, the dark spots swimming and splashing through my narrow field of vision. I squinted harder to try and determine where I was, but the blackness continued to creep in, and what had started as a nuisance became a blessing as the heavy blackness blotted out the cruel and intense light that just made my head hurt more.

My eyelids seemed to grow heavier with every passing second, but I just couldn't bring myself to shut them and shut out the world. My throat was on fire, desperately needing water. Each swallow was sandpaper, a rough scratching that made my eyes burn with tears.