New Wings

Chapter 7

What is the point of destiny? The point of fate? It seems like for most of us there's one enormous moment of change, where the path we were planning on running down switches dramatically, and we stumble along until we find a different path altogether. So is it something we do? Some mistake we make? Or do we have a choice? And what determines if that new path is a good one or not? We all know from experience bad things happen to good people.

Cress muddled through these thoughts in her sleep, tossing and turning as her body subconsciously made an attempt to calm down.

"Cress! CRESS. Where did you go? Come back Cress." Thorne was screaming into the night, pounding on the door to their room in the inn. Cress sat up in their bed, the first thing she noticed was that her hair had all grown back, tumbling over the side of the bedframe and laying in a tangled heap across the floorboards. She blinked in confusion, then opened her mouth to reassure Thorne when a huge hand clasped down over her mouth.

She let out a squeak of surprise, writhing to get off the bed. Whoever it was attacking her had come through the window, and Cress had the sneaking suspicion she'd never want to sleep near one again. The hand was grimy and covered in cold sweat, pushing harder and closer into her mouth with each kick she made.

"Cress are you in there?!? We have to leave, now, they've found us, I knew they would but not so soon. Cress? CRESS, OPEN UP!"

She ached at the sound of pain in his voice, wanting more than anything to comfort him. But the threat he was talking about seemed to already be here, so there wasn't much point to comfort now.

Cress jumped as a head lowered beside her ear, hissing into it with hot breath.

"Don't move, and your mother won't shoot your little hero." The voice revealed its owner simply from the way the refined quality tried to hide itself. This wasn't any burglar. This was a monster. This was her father.

Cress felt a stark wave of shock run through her, followed by raw fear that pounded through her blood. A squeak of terror left her, bouncing off the walls. Richard cursed, tightening the cupped hand over his victim's mouth once more, but it was too late.

Thorne had heard, and somehow that faint yelp was enough to convince him she was in trouble. With a roar the door gave a mighty bang as all of Thorne's weight slammed into it full speed ahead. Over and over he rammed into the wood, shaking up the dust in the inn and leaving Cress's eyes watery. With one last burst of strength the door burst, breaking into 12 pieces and flying every-which-way across the room. She squeezed her self together into a ball as one piece came flying at her, barely scraping the line of her hair before hitting Richard in the eye.

He howled and moved to cover his face; and that second Cress knew she wouldn't have another chance to escape. With shaky knees and a dizzy heart she leapt from the bed, practically throwing herself onto Thorne. But Thorne simply pushed her away and aimed for her collapsed father. She let out a hoarse cry of confusion, but Thorne was too busy giving Richard the beating of his life. Her father moaned with each strong punch, finally passing out after ten or so.

Then, at last, Thorne turned and acknowledged her with shining eyes and a faint smile. This was a dream, you see, and in dreams often times the person sleeping gets to see a brief glimpse of what they yearn for. Cress hadn't realized until now how much she wanted Thorne's smile again. Not just any smile, but his special smile, just for her. She was too far into the dream to realize there'd never been such a grin in real life.

They nestled together on the floor, each holding on like the other was a lifeline they couldn't survive without.

"I thought I'd lost you for a second." He mumbled into her hair, sending chills that erupted as goosebumps on the back of her neck.