She eyed the setup dubiously, her nose wrinkling in a way I found oddly endearing. "That's got to be at least sixty pounds, plus me. I'm not exactly light. Are you sure you can...?"
"Can I what?" I teased, although I would admit to being a little piqued at her doubt regarding my prowess. "Carry it? Carry you?"
"I didn't mean..."
"I'm not some fragile bird, Ellie. I've carried wounded soldiers twice your weight through enemy fire while taking shrapnel from ground artillery. I've flown for hours in full combat gear, sometimes carrying injured civilians." The words came out edged with frustration, but the doubt in her eyes stung more than I wanted to admit.
She held up her hands, palms out in a placating gesture. "Okay. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to question you. I just worry."
I took a breath, forcing my shoulders to relax, feeling the tension drain from my wings. She was worried about me, not doubting me. There was a difference. "I know. But you need to trust me on this."
"I do trust you." The sincerity in her voice, the warmth in her eyes, softened something in my chest, melting the edge of my anger like ice under warm water.
I nodded once, then glanced up through the skylight. The moon hung high and bright, nearly full. A waxing gibbous that cast silver light across the parking lot outside. Perfect. The light would help me navigate, let me see thermal currents and air pressure changes, but wouldn't be so bright that we'd be easily visible from the ground.
"It's time," I said.
We made our way to the back exit, past racks of ammunition and fishing tackle, past the mounted deer heads with their accusatory glass stares. The night air hit usimmediately when I pushed open the emergency door, cold and crisp, carrying the scent of distant snow. I stretched my wings wide, feeling the familiar pull of muscle and tendon, the leather membranes catching the breeze and filling with air. The sensation was like taking a full breath after being underwater—natural, necessary, right.
Ellie stood beside me, her small pack secured to her back, her face tilted up toward the sky. There was fear there, written in the tension around her eyes and the way she twisted her hands together, but also something else. Anticipation, maybe. Trust.
I reached for the makeshift harness I'd fashioned from two heavy-duty tactical belts, the kind designed to hold gear pouches and holsters, thick nylon webbing with metal buckles that could support serious weight. I'd connected them together, creating a configuration that would strap Ellie securely against my chest, distributing her weight across my torso rather than forcing me to carry her in my arms for the entire flight.
"Here," I said, holding up the contraption. "This will be more comfortable for both of us. Safer, too."
She eyed it uncertainly. "That looks... improvised."
"It is. But it'll work." I stepped closer, positioning the harness. "The belts are rated for tactical gear, they can handle your weight easily. And this way, your arms won't get tired from holding on, and I'll have better balance during the flight."
I helped her step into it, threading one belt under her thighs and around her hips, the other across her back and over her shoulders, both connecting at strategic points on my chest and sides. I adjusted the straps carefully, making sure nothing dug into her skin but that everything was snug enough to hold her firmly in place. My knuckles brushed against her waist, her ribs, and I tried to ignore the warmth of her body, the way she shivered slightly at my touch—though whether from cold or something else, I couldn't tell.
"Too tight?" I asked, testing the connection points where the belts fastened to loops I'd secured around my torso.
"No, it's... it's okay." Her voice was small and uncertain, but her eyes held mine, trusting.
I tugged on each strap one more time, double-checking every buckle, every point of contact. When I was satisfied, I met her eyes. "It might feel strange, but you're completely secure. I won't let you fall."
She swallowed hard and nodded, her hands coming up to rest tentatively against my chest, her touch sending heat through my skin.
"Ready?" I asked softly.
She nodded, not trusting her voice.
Without another word, I swept her up in my arms, one hand beneath her knees, the other supporting her back, cradling her against my bare chest, her weight completely supported by the harness. She gasped softly and wrapped her arms around my neck, her body tensing against mine, every muscle tight with trepidation. I could feel her heart hammering against my ribs, rapid and hard, matching the rhythm of my own.
"Hold on," I murmured, adjusting my grip to make sure she was secure.
I launched us into the sky.
The ground fell away beneath us as my wings caught the air, powerful downstrokes lifting us higher and higher with each beat. Ellie's grip tightened almost painfully, her face pressed hard against my shoulder for the first few seconds, her breathing quick and shallow. But then, slowly, as we stabilized, and the flight smoothed out, she lifted her head.
"Oh my God," she breathed, her voice filled with wonder.
Below us, the lights of the city spread out like a constellation fallen to earth, highways threading through neighborhoods in glowing ribbons of white and red. The windrushed past us, cold and clean, carrying the smell of earth and distance. I angled north, feeling the currents with senses humans didn't possess, reading the air with pure instinct. A cold front was moving in from the west, with subtle changes in pressure. I adjusted my flight path, using the currents to conserve energy, gliding when I could, beating my wings only when necessary.
"Are you okay?" I called over the wind roaring in my ears.
"Yeah," she said, and I heard the wonder threading through her voice, the fear transforming into exhilaration. "Yeah, I'm okay."
