Those Without Wings

FIVE

Hunger clawed at her stomach.  Avery clenched her abdomen.  She couldn't feel her feet anymore.  They had long since stopped hurting, instead becoming numb noodles that could barely support her.  When did she last eat?  She couldn't remember.  At her Grand Ceremony?  Did she eat then, or was she too busy making small talk with the Lords and Ladies of Iden?  Honestly, she probably had thrown up whatever she had eaten when Dr. Snow had kidnapped her. 

Pain shot up her back, causing her to stand straighter, at the thought of Dr. Snow.  Walking without her wings was awkward, like learning how to move all over again.  Her back, exposed to the elements, ached.  It never stopped hurting.  Though, Avery was simply thankful that the stitches hadn't pulled out. 

Dust swirled around her with a gust of wind, the remnants of dried plants skittering across the landscape as she trudged down the dirt path.  Highline poles decorated the side of the gravel road, electricity crackling overhead. In front of her loomed the broken down buildings of the Terra-Sector.  It was their dry season and the rivers were down, causing the landscape to crack and crumble under the burning heat.  Despite that, the city teemed with life.  A buzz of excitement coursed through the air. 

Avery entered the city in a small residential area, the buildings only one story tall.  Most of them were constructed from scrap metal and wooden planks.  Large sheets covered the doors.  Some of the nicer homes had brick bases and a few even had splintered glass covering the windows.  Walker's ran about between stalls set up in front of a couple of houses.  The booths held a variety of commodities.  Some sold trinkets, while others bartered household items and broken dishes, a few held canned vegetables and herbs. Children sprinted between each as the played, shouting as they dodged the vendors; their fingers sliding in and out of nearby pockets.  From the sides of one booth hung the carcass' and meat of small animals, birds and rabbits.  There was a sign crudely advertising fresh snake meat.  The Walker behind the booth grinned at passer by's, jumping at the chance to make a pigeon.  People bustled about in dusty clothes.  They were strange in Avery's eyes.  They wore a variety of clothing, and their tanned skinned seemed to be kissed by the sun.  However, their eyes looked tired, gaze darting about, as if they were watching for some unknown predator.

A cart and ox rushed in front of Avery.  With a yelp, she hopped back.

"Oi!" the man on top of the cart shouted, accent thick, "Watch where yer goin'!"

Wide eyed, Avery skittered off the path, ducking into the nearest alley.  Breathing hitching, she waited for her body to calm down.  She listened as Walker's continued their business.  A boy, barely older than thirteen, shouted about newspapers, the 'Tri-River Press'.

Suddenly, everything stopped.  Avery furrowed her eyebrows.  Peaking out of the alley way, she spot a large man in a simple, tan toga, hanging off of one shoulder.  His body was a solid wall of muscle as he loomed over the crowd of Walkers; his black, leathery wings still spread wide, creating a shadow over the dusty street.  Avery heard a few in the crowd hiss, Nocturne. 

One of the braver Walkers marched up to the Nocturne.  He stared up at the guard, gaze unwavering.  He stood braced for conflict, despite his height.  He couldn't have been more than a few inches taller than herself.  Avery couldn't see most of his features from where she hid, only his dark brown hair that laid in a sporadic, untamed curls.  His tanned skin gleamed with the sheen of a hard day's work.  Sun spots littered his arms, and grease covered his t-shirt.  His clothing style was strange to Avery; silks and gossamer replaced by cotton, hiding where his shoulder blades would have branched into wings if he were anything but a Walker. 

"What are you doing here?  You've already collected your taxes." the boy spat.  The Nocturne glared down at him.  Pushing the Walker aside with his forearm, the Nocturne stepped forward.

"Terra-Sector 5 is now under the watch of the Night Guard as the work draft begins," he announced.  The Walker boy whipped around.  His face paled, green eyes widening.  Avery gasped.  His messy hair gave way to prominent cheek bones and rounded jaw, emphasizing the intensity of the boy's emerald green eyes. 

"Why us?" he seethed, "Your 'Night Guard' drafted Tri-River only last month.  Does your 'Grand Priest' want us dead?"

With a snarl, the Nocturne glared back at the boy, "Terra-Sector 5 is full of able workers, you should be grateful the Grand Priest tolerates your existence at all. If is was up to the rest of us, we'd finally put your kind to good use."  A growl escaped from the boy's lips as he bawled his fists.  The Nocturne spun around to face the Walker. "Is that resistance?" The boy narrowed his eyes; piercing his lips. Smirking, the Nocturne turned away from the boy, "That's what I thought."

The boy slipped a hand into his leather work belt, hand brushing against an iron wrench.  Light reflected off the handle.  Before anyone could stop him, the boy hurled the wrench at the Nocturne's head.  It hit its mark and landed in the dirt with a thud.  The boy panted. "We aren't your slaves and we aren't the Avionaries' slaves either, winged freak.  The crown can't sit on its pristine throne forever."

Furrowing his brow, the Nocturne swiveled around, swinging a fist and colliding with the boy's face.  His lip busted, droplets of blood beginning to swell around the split.  The Nocturne picked the boy up by the front of his shirt, hoisting him off of the ground.  Feet dangling, inches from the ground, the boy clawed at the Nocturne's hand.  The Nocturne shook his head, letting the boy drop to the street.  Avery smiled, he looked like the urchin he was-mocking the crown. 

"I don't have time for this.  The Night Guard has more important business," the Nocturne muttered.  Bracing himself for lift off, the Nocturne shot up into the air, sending a gust of wind spiraling around him. 

Avery darted out of the alley in attempt to catch up with the Nocturne, discarding the doll she had been carrying with her since the Wastes.  He could get her home.  Standing in the center of the street, she reached out to the sky.  She was too late.  He had already entered the upper troposphere, far from her.  Sinking to her knees, she cupped her face, unable to even cry.

A gentle hand rested on her shoulder.  "Miss, you alright?" 

Blood running cold, Avery swatted the hand away, swiveling around and standing up in one swift motion. "Don't touch me." She glared.  It was that same boy.  He took a step closer to her.  She stepped back.  He was a filthy Walker, he didn't deserve to look at her, let alone touch her.

Someone grabbed her arm from behind.  Wiping around, Avery slapped them. "Get away!" she screamed.  Taking off in a sprint, she ran.  She had to get away from them. 

"Miss!" the boy called after her as she shoved through the crowd that had gathered.  Hot, sweaty bodies  swarmed together, glimmering in the day's sun.  The pungent odor assaulted Avery as she wormed her way between the masses.  She ducked into the nearest alley she could find.  Faintly, the boy's shouts grew farther and farther away.  Gasping for breath, Avery headed deeper into the shadowed alley.  The space, crammed between two shacks, reaked.  Dust kicked up as her feet scuffed the ground.  A coughing fit over took.  Knees shaking, Avery collapsed in the dirt.  Dragging herself into a crook between the wooden planks, hidden from the public's sight, Avery curled into a ball.  A rumble came from her stomach.  Clenching her belly, she curled up tighter.  Hunger clawed from within her.  Between the coughs a meek whimper trembled through her lips.  The world spun.  Dizziness took over. 

A squeak rolled from behind her.  Eyes fluttering, she tried to make out the figure.  A young girl with shimmering caramel hair, crisp hazel eyes, and deeply tanned skinned stared down at her.  The rusted iron workings of her wheelchair only seemed to intensify her young features.  She couldn't be more than eight... 

"Who...?" the words barely left Avery's lips before everything went dark again.