The Life of Jezebel Firetongue

2

I awoke to the pounding of rain in perfect tune with the throbbing in my temple.

A memory struggled to surface in my pulsating brain. After the incident, my mind had been damaged, my memory nearly destroyed. I did have fragments here and there of my journey, traveled in a half-conscious daze for twenty-four hours until I finally collapsed in a cave somewhere in Quebec, Canada. I was sitting in that same cave a month later, except this time with a backpack full of supplies lying next to me.

Suddenly, the memory cleared and I shot up with a jolt. It was moving day.

I slung the pack over my shoulders, taking a second to check my laptop for any updates on my website. When I had finally recovered, I knew I’d need a source of income, now that I was living on my own. I did my research on good businesses, and finally came up with the idea of a social media site. Two weeks of regular visits to the town's public library and four books of java script later, I had a soaring business. It bought me a laptop and a 4G internet device, allowing me access to the site from anywhere. I’d even been able to hire a team to maintain it online, including a representative for the media. As long as I took care of important business deals and gave them good paychecks, nobody wondered about me.

Finishing my business, I closed the laptop and zipped it into my bag. I began to clean the cave, trying to clear my mind. I found that menial tasks often calmed me down after my nightmares. It helped to remind me that my running was over, and that I could afford to be calm, unlike in last night’s dream.

No longer was I the hunted.

Now, I was the hunter.

Looking around the empty cave, I knew I should have felt something. A pang of regret, a note of hope, something. However, I'd had hardly any emotions since the explosion. Only anger and the resolve to destroy him was left.

I shook my head, pushing the thought of the horrid event from my mind as I turned and leaped out of the cave. My gruesome dragon wings popped out of the slashes in my sweater and caught a breeze, lifting me up and away from the clutches of gravity.

Yes, dragon wings. Scaly, black, reptilian things that had been grafted on my back, shaped like a bat’s. They also came with a few other tricks and toys, like super strength, intelligence and speed, the ability to breathe fire, blah blah blah. When I looked at them, I struggled not to remember how they got there. I found it was a lot easier to leave bad memories in the past – where they belonged.

Over the past month, my wings had been whipped into shape to the point where I was deadly fast. I could soar miles in mere seconds, using smoke as a second coat to hide myself. Whipping my wings through the cool morning air, I allowed to let my mind wander, the landscape below me rushing by. That was definitely something I really would miss about the place.

The beautiful country of Canada made me sigh with pleasure. People had been so nice here, with such grand countryside to accompany it. I kind of felt bad for landing in it and making my home there, so as I crossed the great lakes into the good old US of A, I felt a sense of relief. It was a place where anyone could belong. Even a monstrous creation that had no business being alive could fit right in.

So, perfect for me.

Five hours of hard flying later, my enhanced ears caught a noise miles away. The sound of running feet, pounding the ground desperately was just barely audible over the beat of my heart and intake of breaths. Narrowing my eyes, I scrutinized the ground below me with my powerful vision. A jogging trail wound through snow-capped trees, two bodies sprinting down the dirt path.

Thinking fast, I dove behind a hill that hid me from the road. One quick rub of my hands caused them to catch fire, ready to melt a hiding place for me. Using the heat, I burned a crater in the side of the hill that faced the road, creeping in and hiding the entrance with snow, but leaving a small hole for me. I waited for the runner to pass.