Dusk Fall

Heavy Wings

Cloud wasn’t exactly what Whisper was expecting. A drake of legend with the flying prowess to put terrorhawks to shame, the fat cloudy white pelt of her Flight Master fell far short of high expectations. At least he seemed to know what he was squawking about. Updrafts and downdrafts and gliding and catching the wind. Whisper only listened with half a mind. She wasn’t due to start actual flight until the next day and she didn’t wanna stuff her head full of useless information. What was the point if she was just going to hear it all again tomorrow?

Gust and his litterkin were sitting together one of the roomier branches, eyes wide and attentive to their Flight Master as he gave them their instructions. The Pre-Flight tree bore only a few scraggly brown leaves, it’s bare-claw branches reaching greedily for the clear blue sky above. Once the three drakes lifted off and began their flight exercises, Cloud lumbered heavily back down one of the largest branches on the tree swaying the branch beneath his bulk the whole way, and stopped just a few wingspans shy of the gathered whelps.

“Normally, I’d have my assistant here and she would give you the once over for branchin’.” He hummed. “But without her, I’m in charge of teachin’ all you little wings. Sorry, Lake, Feather, you’re going to have to get a refresher for yesterday’s lesson.” He pointedly ignored Lake’s vocal groans of dismay.

“That’s alright, Flight Master Cloud.” Feather peeped up shyly. The soft, almost airy tone of her voice rubbed Whisper’s pelt the wrong way. Why was Frost standing there staring at her with those moony eyes? It was so embarrassing to have your littermate act like such a lovestruck yearling!

Shifting, feeling anger burning warmly beneath her fur, she tried to focus on the lesson. This was a challenge, however, as she could hear Feather and Frost exchanging hushed words between Cloud’s panting breaths.

“Now, you youngin’s might think that branchin’ is a waste of time. Let me tell you—More good bats have broken their claws or wings on a bad landing then there are stars in the night sky. Learning how to move without relyin’ your wings will serve you well. Plus, buildin’ up your muscles never hurts either.”

He beckoned them with a flick of his whiskers leading them up the branch and towards a very thickly limbed part of the tree. There was only about a single wingspan between each jump. He waited for all four of his wards to line up, occasionally calling out critique to the airborne Gust and his litterkin. Lake shifted impatiently, Feather chattering brightly to Frost. Whisper bit back a snarl. Did he care more about some random vixen than her?

But Whisper, a small voice in the back of her mind reminded her. You pushed him away. You can’t expect him to try forever.

Yeah, she shot back defensively. But he should still try harder!

Finally, she settled herself on the opposite end of Lake and turned her eyes on the Flight Master. Lake seemed to wilt, forcing her pelt to lay as flat as it could and sucking in her sides to avoid brushing Whisper. He wiggled his haunches and Whisper wondered for a moment if his bulky form could make the short gap. He bunched his muscles and launched himself off the branch. Keeping his wings folded and his foreclaws outstretched before him, he sailed over the nearby landing, and touched down lightly on a bough more than three fox spans away! Whisper had to admit; she was impressed.

“Did you see how I gathered all the muscles in my hind legs? How I kept my whiskers low, but still out? My wings closed, and my tail steady behind me? Keep that in mind! Lake! Show us how it’s done.” He started to pace back to the takeoff branch, keeping his eyes firmly fixed on the young vixen.

Lake, with her eyes blazing with determination, gripped the branch tightly in her fore and hind claws. Her pelt rippled as her muscles bunched. Her whiskers were stiff, and her tail stretched straight out behind her. Four sets of eyes keenly fixed on the vixen as she threw herself onto the nearest branch. She staggered her landing but caught herself quickly, wrapping her tail around the branch.

“What did she do wrong? Feather? Whisper?” He asked, looking between the two of them. Lake Bristled indignantly, her muzzle opening wide to protest. Cloud’s back was to her and yet, he seemed to sense the bubbling retort. “Keep your pelt down, little wing, you you’ll never get any better if nowing tells you where you went wrong.” He gave a dismissive flick of his tail as if to assert that he wouldn’t hear another word on the subject. Whisper’s whiskers twitched in quiet amusement, watching the way Lake’s grey-brown pelt bristled with overwhelming indignance.

“Uh. . .” Feather hummed softly. “It didn’t look like she kept her eyes on her landing point?” She sounded so unsure of herself, and Whisper couldn’t help but feel a little smug. She might not have known the answer—But it wasn’t her question!

“Are you asking me, or telling me?” Cloud asked with a quiring chirp, eyes glowing bright with amusement.

“I’m. . . I’m telling you.” She said, a little more confidently. Cloud nodded.

“Was that the only thing you noticed?” He prompted gently. “Don’t feel bad for helpin’ your litterkin to be a better flier. She’ll thank you for it later.” He chuckled warmly.

“No. . . I didn’t notice anything else.” Feather hung her skull, and Whisper tried to ignore Frost’s reassuring nudge.

He hummed softly but his golden eyes were unreadable. “That’s alright. What about you, Whisper? Did you notice anything?”

“I don’t even know how to branch yet, how would I know?” She muttered mutinously. She didn’t think it was very fair of him to single her out like that; it was her first day!

“You weren’t listenin’ to my explanation this mornin’?”

Whisper shifted restlessly on the branch, watching all four sets of curious eyes burning their gazes into her prickling pelt. “I. . . Guess I wasn’t.” She felt her whiskers burning with shame. How was she supposed to know she should’ve been paying attention—She wasn’t even paying attention! Shouldn't he have told her it was important? She hung her skull and muttered a barely audible apology to the Flight Master.

“Evidently. Make sure you keep those ears tuned. For you curious bats, she didn’t keep her eyes on her landin’, she didn’t give her claws enough spread, and she didn’t use her tail in the correct counterbalance form. You’ve gotta make sure your claws have enough surface area to keep your balance, and if you don’t spread your weight out the right way, you can’t land the right way either.”

“There’s so much to remember.” Feather whined in dismay. How could Frost stand such a whiny pup? Feather could barely fly without somewing holding her claw—What did he see in her?

“It’s okay, Feather, we can learn it together.” The gushing warmth in Frost’s voice made Whisper’s belly squirm uncomfortably and she felt irritation pricking her claws.

“That’s right, little wing. Now, let’s get ready to branch!”

Whisper didn’t hate branching as much as she thought she would. Sure, it was awful to listen to Feather’s simpering voice fawning over Frost like he was all the moon shine in the world. But Gust trained with her, and he helped correct her where her claws staggered. She wasn’t as good as Lake who seemed to be a natural at branching—But she was at least better than Feather. Her relationship with her litterkin crumbled away like cobwebs in the rain, and she was certain he hardly noticed. At least, he never seemed to pay her any mind when she slithered out of the den whenever he and Feather’s voices caught her ear. At least she didn't have to go alone. Gust often accompanied her on these outings.

She took to exploring the Flight Tree, to escape Frost and his new growth. The way they mooned after each other in the Whelp Hollow made her sick.

Gust lead her up and down the tree, showing her every hollow, den, and niche he could find, teaching her about the different roles in the Flight. Of course, she was as familiar with the Flight roles as she was with her own snatcher, but he seemed excited, and it was nice to hear him talk. Even if his eyes shone just a bit too brightly when he talked to her.

Whisper became intimately familiar with the shape of Dusk Tree. One thick trunk split off into five branches, that split like rivers and grew skyward. Gust told her that once the sun brought back the spring warmth, the canopy would be suffocated with lush foliage. Green leaves as big as her skull would sprout from even the tiniest stick. Hollows littered the trunk, the small holes a little bigger than a wingspan carved deep into the bark by the claws of seasons past. Each hollow served a purpose, and Gust eagerly explained each one they passed.

“This is the Hunter’s Den!” He announced, as he showed her a hole near the bottom of the tree. “It’s real low to the ground, but that’s so it’s easy to coordinate with the flight guards. I hear that hunters get first pick of the prey!” He pointed to a hollow just above the Hunter’s den and gazed warmly at her, trying to catch her eye.

“So, that’s where I’ll be staying, huh?” She asked politely, keeping him talking. She didn’t have much to say that didn’t tear at her heart to think about and it was nice to have a distraction from her inner turmoil. He might not keep the storms in her mind at bay, but at least when she played with him the thunder wasn’t deafening. She could dare to think good things might come her way.

“Yeah! And I’m going to be a Flight Guard, so I’ll be nearby!” He sounded very pleased about this fact. “I’d like to be able to keep an ear out for you—If you ever need me, y’know.” He gave her a shy shrug of his shoulders, demurely casting his gaze down at his claws. Whisper had to bite down on a snort of disbelief. Gust was the most benign creature she’d ever met.

How could he protect her?

“That will be nice. Maybe you can come on hunts with me!” She suggested brightly. “What about down there?” She inclined her whiskers towards what looked like a den in the gnarled roots of the tree, bat-like, crawling down towards it.

“That’s one of the Mender’s Dens! They stick close to the ground, because they don’t want sick bats anywhere near the rest of us. And because it makes it easier to climb in and out when you’re injured. There’s usually a couple of menders to a den, and they deal with different injuries and ailments. Normally, they take care of their own dens, but sometimes the broodies lend a wing when they’re thick with illness.”

“You know so much.” Whisper purred. Of course, she knew most of what he told her. She just didn’t know specifically where the other dens were. It was nice to build a map of her territory. The simple task gave her mind something to focus on, and she felt normalcy trickling back into her weary bones. Hunting wouldn’t be so bad if they really did get first pick of the prey; even if she would be stuck in a den with Lake, and smell like mouse blood and moth scales all the time. At least Dusk Flight would reply on her skills!

“Not as much as I could. Ive still got so much to learn.” He admitted sheepishly. “But I can show you my favorite part of the tree!” Before Whisper could answer, Gust kicked off from the trunk and twisted in midair, snapping his wings out to catch the chilly afternoon breeze. He wheeled in tight circles around the trunk, steadily floating upwards with hardly a stroke of his wing. Shaking her skull with an amused laugh, Whisper began to climb after him—She wished they’d just move onto flying already, so she could take wing with him!

Whisper never regretted a wish so much in her life.

For the fifth time that morning she’d noisily crashed into the ground. In a confused tangle of tail, wings and claws, she would struggle to right herself and stare furiously into the early morning sky. It’s cloudless blue expanse seemed to be mocking her; she just couldn’t stay airborne! She’d catch the wind in the membrane of her wing, but on the upstroke she’d lose her altitude and plummet back to the unforgiving ground, unable to snatch her wings back from the greedy wind.

It made her body ache fiercely.

“You’ve got to trust yourself to keep you in the sky!” Cloud called unhelpfully from overhead. “If you panic, you’re going to lock your wings!”

But she wasn’t panicking! The stupid wind refused to carry her. She dug her foreclaws into the ground, allowing herself a brief respite on the grass. She could detect the faint hints of the frost that gripped the earth before the sun’s light.

Even Feather had managed it before her! Though, she thought ruefully, it’s only because she had Frost there to help her. He didn’t so much as offer her a passing glance.

She didn’t need him anyway.

Gust couldn’t be there to help her—He’d started his Flight Guard training and their morning patrol meant he couldn’t attend Cloud’s insightful lessons. Lucky bat.

“Come on now, Whisper.” Cloud fluttered down beside her, giving her a searching look. “Your mind’s in the clouds while the rest of you struggles to get off the ground. What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong, this is just hard!” She snapped back. Whisper flinched at the sharpness in her voice but didn’t apologize for her growing temper.

“Rocks and trees are hard, little wing. You are a bat. You are born for this. You need to take your mind out of whatever woods it’s wanderin’ in and focus on the flight. I know little minds are full of big ideas, but Whisper; I know you can do better than this. Your branching form is excellent, you have an impressive wingspan for such a young bat, and strong muscles. I know you’re capable of much more than you’ve been. . . Displaying.”

Whisper puffed up to deliver a scathing response when he flicked a whisker across her muzzle to quiet her. “I expect progress from the little wing who managed to wander farther on all fours than most fully flight ready bats get on their wings.” Despite his stern tone, an unusual warmth glittered in his eyes.

“Yes Flight Master.” She growled softly. But, his praised warmed her pelt like laying a warm patch of sunlight. And, she thought continuing to stuff her unwieldy emotions back down, it wasn’t like Cloud was wrong. She didn’t have her minds eye set on flying. Maybe those heavy feelings weighed her wings down?

As he lifted his wings and flapped back up to the Pre-Flight Tree, Whisper forced the thoughts of Frost and Feather back, and focused on the soft short breaths escaping her body. She counted each one, loudly interrupting any unwieldy thought that tried to bubble to the surface of her subconscious. No, she only had room in her skull for thoughts about flight!

She dug her foreclaws into the rough, pitted bark and hauled herself onto a low laying limb. She leaned back on her haunches, carefully testing the air with her wings. She gave a few, slow flaps, testing the air, feeling the membrane bulge gently beneath the change in pressure.

She leaned forward, letting a gust of wind trap itself in her wings. Before she could think herself out of it, Whisper threw herself into the open air. She’d caught the wind! Forcing herself to remain steady, she spread her wings until the tips of her claws were creaking with effort. They shook as she swept them back towards her body, curling them against her sides for the upstroke. She lost half a wingspan in altitude. But before she could fall back down to the earth, she followed through. Whisper swept her wings down and shot herself forward.

She was doing it! She was flying!

Perhaps messily, and with as much grace as a whelpling, but she was flying! The wind buffeted her ears, so she kept them swept back into the protective, thick fur of her mane. Her whiskers flailed gently, fighting for balance. She wobbled back and forth; her wings not used to the powerful pull wind inflicted on her muscles.

“Excellent work, little wing!” Cloud’s voice called from behind her. “Keep your tail aligned with your spine as much as you can. Keep your whiskers low!”

Every little motion unsteadied her. But she did as Cloud instructed, keeping her tail lined up with her spine her hindclaws tucked against it to maintain balance.

“L-Like that?” She shouted over the wind in her ears.

“Just like that! Do four circles around the edge of the canopy and come back to the branch! We’ll work on maneuvers next!”