Swift Wings

Chapter 8

The sound of scissors slicing material wakes me. The heat from my breath warms my face as I lay face down in a small cot. I open my eyes and see sunlight filtering through the canvas of a tent and warming the autumn air. Blankets tangle around my legs.

"You're awake!" A male's voice startles behind me. I hear the clunk of what I assume are the scissors on a table and the rush of foot steps. Clayton's face looms above me, the sun creating a halo of light behind his curly, dark hair.

He leans in close and squints at my face. "How are you feeling, Gwendylyn?" he asks, concern sketching across his face. "You took some nasty burns the other day."

Other day? I think, How many days have I been unconscious?

At my look of panic and confusion Clayton sits back on his heels beside the cot to explain, "It's been two days. The healers were able to heal the burns on your back easily, but your wings took a little bit longer." His face changes to a quiet sort of pride when he says, "The metal held up really well though."

I snort and look carefully at Clayton. He looks happily at the welding on my back and back to my face, cocking his head to the side in curiosity. "How are you feeling? You still haven't answered my question."

"I'm okay I guess." I groan as I rise from my chest. Clayton sits in a chair nearby as I gently fold my wings and turn to sit on the edge of the cot. I scan my wings for any sign of damage and, to my surprise, see nothing but smooth, unscarred tissue. I stretch them as far as the tent allows and only feel the stretch of my back muscles from two days of lying in bed. "By the looks of it I'm doing better than okay."

Clayton chuckles. "I'd say you're doing well considering the burns you had."

I remember the heat of the fire and the cold rush of water gliding down my wings. I shiver at the memory. Clayton notices my shiver and looks around. He stands from his chair and walks to the pitcher of water set on the table in the center of the tent. Clean bandages and tonics cover the table. Clayton brings a tin cup of water and a piece of bread wrapped in towel to my cot.

"Eat. You're probably starving." I take the cup and food from his hands. He sits back down on the chair and leans forward on his elbows. "What you did back there was risky. You could have died."

I nod back to him and silently eat my bread. I feel Clayton's brown eyes scanning my face, searching for something.

"People died Gwen," he whispers. My shoulders curve in slightly as I nod again. He continues, "You could have died too, but you didn't because you're lucky. Because you had me and Jewyl. But you risked your life running into the fire."

I'm done with hearing Clayton try to make me feel guilty for putting my life in danger. I snarl at him. "I saved an innocent girl and a babe. I risked my life to save others," I spit.

Clayton stands in front of me, fists clenched in anger. "Yes, you saved others! But at what cost Gwen? You could have died!" Clayton yells back at me. I shrink at his anger. He's never raised his voice in front of me, never raised his voice at me. I feel shame rise in my chest.

Clayton sits down and huffs a sigh. "I'm sorry. I just... I care for you and Jewyl. I care about your cause. I believe in it. Females deserve to train and to be respected by others. I don't want... I don't want you to die before you can find a way to show them that there's more to females than labour and breeding."

I watch Clayton as he runs a hand down his face and stares at a spot on the floor. I don't know what to say to him, except "Thank you."

He looks up and gives me a sad smile. "I want you to show them Gwen. I want you to show them you are worthy of their respect. I want you to show them females can be warriors too. But you're going to have to live long enough to show them first."