She stood at the edge of the precipice and slowly unfurled her wings. She wasn’t used to them yet, and she still felt gangly and awkward with them. She had only just sprouted them earlier in the morning after drinking the elixir her mother had offered her with the words, “You were born into the clan of the Priestesses of the Clouds. I have taught you all I knew. It is time you flew.”
Cyrra had been stunned to learn of this clan. She knew that she and her mother were part of a community of women who were powerful and lived apart from the rest of humanity. She and the other girls had been brought up to be independent, strong, and reliable. This she learned in the schools, but also just by being in proximity to all the women of what Cyrra thought of as their tribe.
Now, turning her head as far as she could, she gasped at what she saw. Her wings were a shimmering shade of chartreuse, with a large patch of magenta at the shoulders, and the edges were tipped with the deepest green. She thought they looked a bit like butterfly wings, but with feathers, not scales. She remembered with a pang the excruciating pain she had felt as her arms elongated and the feathers pushed themselves through her skin. Her mother had warned her when administering the potion that with great power there was always an amount of anguish. It was part of the whole of the world. Two sides of the same coin.
Now her mother was by her side, preening the feathers of Cyrra’s wings to ready them for flight.
Flight?!
Only at this moment did she realize fully the enormity of what she was about to do. What her mother was telling her she could do. What she had to do. What she had no business doing.
Her bare toes gripped the cold stony surface as she tried to will herself to jump. Her mother had stepped back from her and was cooing words of encouragement, “Cyrra, you are my daughter. You cannot stay tucked under my protective wing for much longer. You must learn to fly on your own. I have taught you all that I can. You must have faith that you have everything you need to fly away from me.”
“But I don’t want to fly away from you. You are my home.”
Lying her palm over Cyrra’s heart, her mother murmured, “And I always will be. Even if we aren’t together, we will always be in each other’s hearts. This is your first flight. A test flight. You must find your wings.”
Cyrra gathered her courage, closed her eyes, and felt a deep peace settle. She stopped trembling, and the terrible sensation of water rushing up and down her legs subsided.
With her wings outstretched and her eyes still closed, trusting in the words and wisdom of her mother, Cyrra leapt from the cliff. She felt the air catch her wings and push her upward. Her body now horizontal, wings outstretched, she let out an audible gasp. Soon, however, she felt the pull of gravity despite the wind and the wings, and she began to drop. In the distance, she could hear her mother calling, “Flap your wings, my daughter!”
Cyrra shook herself out of her stunned state, opened her eyes, and began to move her wings. It was laborious at first, but soon she understood what it would take to keep aloft, just a gentle up and down movement every so often, but also relying on the wind currents to move her. She felt the her hair whipping behind her like a pennant, and she inhaled the fragrance of the verdant valley below.
The sensations were wonderful, and Cyrra was ecstatic, her heart racing. She was flying, keeping her eyes trained on the distant horizon. But then, she glanced down and saw just exactly how high she was flying. Panicking, she froze, and immediately felt her insides drop as she began to fall. Flailing, she tumbled toward the ground, the wind now whistling by. In a rush, she heard her mother’s words come to her. “Cyrra, my love, when you feel out of control, take a deep breath, then listen to your inner knowing. Calm your fears, and you will understand the next right step.” She spread her wings wide, catching the air again, and she was steady.
In remembering her mother’s wise words and the deep love she had left on the cliff edge, Cyrra realized she had flown far. She had not looked back. She wasn’t sure she knew how to look back. Would it throw off her balance? Turning her head as far as she could to the left, and then to the right, she saw only sky and clouds. She was going to have to return to the wall of stone eventually, so she thought she better see what she was capable of, to see if she could manage a turn.
Slowing the speed with which she moved her wings, she felt herself falling again. Without panicking this time, she found that if she dipped one wing down, she could turn. Aha! She waggled her wings in triumph then turned a complete 180 degrees. There, far in the distance, was the cliff, though she couldn’t make out her mother. She flew in that direction, trying speed for the first time, and reached her mother in no time. Still flying high above her, Cyrra called down, “Mother, I’m flying! Look at me. It’s wonderful.”
And she flew right into a cloud, loosing all visibility. “What do I do? Fly through it? Try to get above it or below it? I don’t know how big this cloud is.” She remembered the time she and her mother were caught in a rainstorm. “Just put your head down and keep going,” was the advice offered. Cyrra’s heart was racing, but she kept flying straight through. Soon, she burst through the other side of the cloud and breathed a sigh of relief.
Ahead, she saw a flock of crows who seemed to be floating in circles, riding ever higher. Cyrra flew to them and called out, “I’ve watched you play like this all of my life. I’d love to join you.” The crows made room for the larger creature, and when she entered the air current, she was shocked to feel her body, wings and all, lifted by an invisible cord. She wobbled a bit, uncertain what she was supposed to do. When she held still, giving in to the rising thermal of air, she noticed that she, too, was moving in a lazy upward-moving spiral. But she wasn’t moving forward. This was fun and exhilarating, but she wasn’t getting anywhere. After several minutes, she realized that she wanted to tell her mother about all she was doing and learning, so she flew out of the current of air and headed back toward the cliffside.
On the way she saw a bird plummet headlong to the earth. She had seen birds of prey do this before, but from Cyrra’s current vantage point, it looked terrifying. That terror turned to awe as she watched the falcon snare an unsuspecting songbird in its talons and fly on. She had to try. Cyrra put her head down and pulled her wings close to her body as she had seen the falcon do. All of a sudden, she felt the rush of air as she fell like a stone. Her hair was whipping all around her, making it difficult to see. It was difficult to hear, too, with all the whistling wind. She could barely keep her eyes open, but when she did manage to crack them, she saw that she was alarmingly close to the river that ran through the valley. On instinct alone, Cyrra spread out her wings and tilted them so that she was swept up and out of danger.
Scanning the horizon, she located her mother, who was waving her arms, still at the edge of the stone promontory. Cyrra flew straight and true toward her, ready to share all that she had experienced.
But first she would have to land.