Wings of Fire • Journey of Metamorphosis [Book 2]

scene ii.

Hi everyone! Happy new year! 

I meant to finish this chapter sooner, but I was super busy during the break and when I got back school started. Between that and my own personal projects, I finally got time today, and as a treat this chapter is extra long! My Word doc is 104 pages and 22k words... and I moved a major scene from this chapter to the next! XD

Thunder from the future: I originally posted this on the 14th, but as I was going to bed I realized I should fix a thing, then today I started fixing a LOT of things so I have to reformat the whole thing... Sorry for the further delay!

One small word: Hawker is a very... intense character. I have a lot to say about him and I hope I'm showing more than I'm telling. If he ever makes you angry, that's the point, because this story is about his character development! So enjoy life beating him into submission while it lasts...

No more stalling, on with the show!!! 

- ❈ -

It was as dark outside as it was inside. It wouldn't be for long, but Hawker didn't need moonlight to see. Memory guided his wings southeast, and once he cleared the height of the estate, he let himself be carried by the wind.

     Flying helped clear his mind, sometimes, but wingboxing was a better outlet. His anger and frustrations seeped out with each punch. Flying towards his secret training spot was extra soothing.

     As he flew, the darkness of the night was eventually offset by the pale light of the night sky. Thanks to the stars and the moons, Hawker could now see the shapes of the mountains around him. Many were topped with skyhouses. Some had buildings carved right into the sides, while some – the ones that were too small to bear home or hovel – were bare and untouched. He angled himself towards one such spire, landing in a small clearing. No stick, stone, or fallen leaf marred the ground. Over the years, a rough diamond shape had been cut into the soil, forming a makeshift sparring ring, trampled to dirt by heavy talons.

     Bordering the clearing was an assortment of broken and battered trees. Some were cut in half, and others bore deep scores or were bent awkwardly. Hawker would be using the trees as a target while he waited for Demi, but first, he needed to pace. Flying hadn't calmed his nerves. He walked with measured steps at first, then more rigidly, as if wanting to run but not quite committing.

     His heart pounded. His thoughts were in a jumbled mess, too tangled to make sense of. All he knew was he felt anger, disappointment, and above all, fear. He wanted to punch the first thing in sight, feeling like one simple strike could release the tension in his wings but he knew that if he did, with such little control over himself, he would break a wingtip and that was the last thing he needed. A DartWing could fly and spar with broken wingtips, it was true, but a dragon would be hard-pressed to want to. It would hinder him in battle and he needed to be in top shape.

     At the thought of the battle, he realized what he was afraid of. His thoughts cleared slightly, or rather separated, bringing his biggest concern to the forefront. His wings still quivered, but not with rage. Hawker stood in the clearing and felt the chill of the night seep into him.

     At this time tomorrow, I could be dead.

     Immediately, he dropped into the ready position of the boxer. Head tucked in, secondary wings close to his face and ready to defend, while his primaries were half-extended and poised to strike. Muscles all over his body were taught, ready to launch himself forward or away at any moment.

     His eyes locked on a tree trunk ahead of him. It was a palm tree, still unmarked, miraculously. Not any longer. Hawker couldn't practice circling or reaction maneuvers with an immobile target, but he could practice aiming and the speed of his strikes. He whipped one wing forward, retracting it just in time to avoid the tree. Faster.