[Flashback] Faltering Wings

[Laute]

Summer 19th 503 AV

He is less than a year old when they have their first outdoor flight. Outdoor, under the blanket of sun and stars that make up the sky. Outdoor where the wind whistles through the leaves and every creature's heartbeat resounds through his eardrums.

It is different from inside the caves, where his first flight was jumping through caverns and hoping he flapped before he hit the solid ground. It was a game, each child trying to stay aloft the longest between the lessons their mothers gave. The longest was Nimis, the quickest learner of their group.

Laute takes a deep breath, the air fresh and cool in his throat. Yes, this is different from the caves where all he knows is the dark and damp, the stale air and the soft patter of insects. There is the rustle of wings, the squeaks and whistles of his people, the movements of the slaves, but nothing that can compare to this.

Out here the world is a cacophony of sound. It is almost too much. Laute has yet to learn how to selectively block noises and each crackling leaf is amplified in his head.

Turning, he can see his twin isn't suffering the same problem. Nimis is already stretching his short wings, ready to launch into the air.

Though he has yet to care much about these competitions, it is only to his brother he can't bear to lose. Frowning, he ignores the strange and new and crouches. His wings rise behind him and he leaps off the ground, his feet scraping the ground as he rises.

His wings strain slightly as he rises, almost crashing back onto the earth. Gritting his teeth, he beats harder, almost furiously as he moves higher and higher into the sky. Almost there, almost there--he pushes and flaps and eventually he is skimming the lone tree near their home.

Sweat mattes his fur and he relaxes there, slowing his wing beats so he floats in spot. The sky is brighter here, without the long shadows and other sights competing for his attention. It's a full moon and as he looks up, it hangs heavy in the air. Drinking in the sight, he stops paying attention to his flight until his feet more than skim the tree.

With a furious wingbeat, he rises once more. One of the mothers approaches him casually as he hovers in the air. "You're putting too much effort," she informs him, before diving down to check on someone else.

Too much effort. He looks around from Nimis--this is another difference from the cave. There is too much information here--the sounds, the smells. Before he could find him without looking and here he is relying on his sight to find his brother.

There is a shout and he looks up in time to see his twin dive down to him. Pushing his wings forward, he creates a large draft as he moves back. The push is strong enough that it flips him in the air, his body carried backward by the motion the world turns and tumbles with him.

When he stops he finds his brother stopped in front of him, a grin on his face. Wordlessly, he flies away once more and Laute can only stare.

Too much effort. No, it's not enough.

[Laute]

Nimis has always been a fast learner. While Laute is still trying to flap properly, and just how much is proper?, his brother is already practicing his turns and dives.

"Hurry up, let's play!" Nimis cries as he swoops past Laute.

Laute ignores his brother, hovering in spot instead. Folding his wings back, he drops like a rock before unfurling them as fast as he can.

A sharp pain digs into his shoulder--it hurts more than he expected. It seemed so much easier when he watched his mother do it, peering at her from the entrance of the cave months ago.

Flapping harder, he moves up. How hard should he be flapping? What would be enough? The mothers are unhelpful on this, telling him that he'll understand when he feels it.

Nimis twirls beside him again. "What are you doing?"

"Practicing," Laute responds, imitating the sharp turns and abrupt stops his brother was doing a short while ago. So effortless it had looked.

How hard reality is.

[Laute]

The wind ruffles his fur, teasing him with scents far, far away. Closing his eyes, Laute can smell dry dirt and large beasts, herbivores and carnivores alike. People, like the slaves in their caverns, only less...

They smell dirty and sweaty as well, covered in traces of their work. But it is different, somehow. Less...less...less of something.

Is this what a free person smells like?

Laute turns his head, smelling a bitter smell somewhere else. Bitter and dark. To his left, the sweet scent of a flower. Opening his eyes, Laute looks up at the cloud covered sky. He is getting better at separating the scents.

Now, to follow the wind back to the scents. Looking around, he can still see the mothers hovering above him, helping any stranglers. Most of the year-olds were already flying around on their own, not foraying too far from the mothers least they get herded back.

Nimis is probably already outside the protective huddle. Laute can't track him, not yet, but he can track the flower. The wind is still blowing from its direction and raising his wings, he leaps out the cave's opening and into the open air.

For a few moments he drops, still unable to quickly adjust to the change of motions. Then he's pumping his wings and soaring through the air. The flower is still to his left and he turns his body until it's ahead of him.

Somewhere in a thick forest. The mothers wouldn't approve.

He can hear Nimis' laughter in his ears and dives through the foliage.

[Laute]

The branches are thicker than Laute expects and he bangs his arm against one as he enters the brush. Hissing in pain, he tries to grab another branch with his other arm or even hover in place, but his body collides with a thicker branch.

The breath knocked out of him, he just lies there on scratchy bark. It was a bad idea to come in here. The trees cover the area like a web and there is nowhere to fly. Going from above is out of the question--the mothers would catch him.

Raising his head, he peers at the darkness looming in front of him. The scent is stronger now than it was before, and if he could just make it through...

Acrobatics. His brother is good at them. Is this why? Getting up, Laute winces at the pain in his chest. His breaths come out in wheezes and he hates the sound that he makes with every intake. Diving into the foliage, without at least finding out its basic set up, was a mistake.

Standing up, he stretches out and grabs the closest branch.