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“Yeah. Fuck it. Let’s do this. Lay it on me.”
The world went dark around her like the lights had switched off.
And the ground opened up beneath her feet, sending her careening down into the darkness.
“Fuck!”
Gwen was falling.
Again.
Gwen was super sick of falling.
She wondered if that was going to be her life now, just endlessly falling for the rest of her mortal life. How long would it take for her to get used to it? Or would she just end up dying from a heart attack?
Her answer came a few moments later when the darkness parted, and she was now falling…with scenery. She wasn’t sure if that made it better or worse. She had tumbled out of a large, angry storm cloud, and was now hurtling toward the forest and the ground below.
Yep.
It was worse.
Definitely worse.
Now she had a new, fun, and interesting reason to scream her goddamn head off as she watched the ground grow slowly closer. She had never been skydiving before, and now she really had no interest in ever trying it.
She was going to die.
The island had decided that it wanted to turn her into a bug on a windshield. She was just going to splatter all over the landscape.
She managed to flail her limbs around enough to stabilize so she could hold steady. It gave her a much nicer view of her impending death. It was terrifying, but at least she didn’t feel like she was going to puke the way she did when she was falling and spinning at the same time.
I’m going to die.
There was a sudden, strange sense of calm that overtook her, as the thought really sank in through the deafening rush of the wind as she hurtled downward. She was going to die—it was just that simple. There wasn’t anything she could do about it. There wasn’t anything she could do to stop it. It was just a fact.
She stopped screaming. There wasn’t a point in it anymore.
Shutting her eyes, she just embraced the falling.
Spreading out her arms, she tried to trick herself into thinking she wasn’t falling, that she was flying. Imagining the wings she had owned for a hot second but had never had a chance to really use, she pretended she could feel the air rushing against the leathery skin of her dragon’s wings, helping her soar overhead—not falling out of control.
Wait.
Hold on.
She could feel her wings.
What the?—
Opening her eyes, she couldn’t believe what she saw. Her wings were back! She could fly!
There was only one problem with that.
Gwen didn’t know how to fly.
Now she was gliding even faster at the quickly approaching ground. Instead of holding her aloft, she was inadvertently diving. Screaming, she flapped, and desperately tried to change her trajectory. Pull up, pull up!
Half through panic, half through some desperate kind of instinct, she managed to slowly change direction, pulling up from the insane dive. She felt the strain on her wings, cringing from the ache as she overcorrected too quickly.
