Fly With Your Heart

Chapter Three

     I watched as Yôtin walked up to the end of the ledge. Atâhk and Waskôw perched on either side of him, looking like they were about to burst from happiness. I felt the same as they did, for just three sunrises after my sister's leaving, Yôtin was about to make his first flight.

     Atâhk screeched, and all three eagles opened their wings. I did as well, though I still had only my down. It felt right, standing like this, with the wind howling around me. I felt like I could really do it, like I could really fly, until I remembered.

     It was not my time yet. Today was Yôtin's day, and I was not going to ruin it. I folded my stumpy wings and watched, mesmerized, as my brother shrieked and lifted off. He flapped his wings once, twice, and was gone. Atâhk and Waskôw followed him, and I ran to the edge to watch. My brother carved a beautiful banking turn, catching an updraft and rising several wingspans.

     I chirped in dismay and tried to follow him, catching myself before I fell by hooking my beak into the rock. Atâhk screeched a warning, and I obeyed.

     "Stay back!"

     I retreated into the cleft and continued watching. The morning sun caught Yôtin's feathers perfectly, reflecting in a bright gold colour. He looked more gold than our parents, probably because his feathers were newer. Nonetheless, he looked beautiful.

     I settled down and continued watching. They stayed up there in the sky for almost half the day, and Yôtin came back to watch me while our parents went to go hunt.

     "You were beautiful brother! Can you teach me? Can you teach me?"

     "I can't. Mama and Papa said so."

     "Oh. Then can you tell me what 'fly with your heart' means?" I hopped on my spindly legs, following him around as he walked to the nest. He shook his head no, and I immediately deflated. "But why?"

     "Because you are supposed to find the meaning yourself." He said mysteriously. That didn't help me, so I decided to ignore him until Mama and Papa would come back.

     Could it mean to synchronize my wing beats with my heart beat? I tried this, but I couldn't hear my heart beat. Probably because of the wind, and my brother trying to get my attention.

     "Kîsik? Kîsik!" I shook my head. I glanced at Yôtin, and I realised that I couldn't stay mad at him.

     "Yes?" I asked sadly.

     "Do you want to try some flapping exercises?" he looked at me hopefully, and I responded to this proposition well. I fluffed up my chest, straightened my spine, and tried to look attentive. Yôtin chuckled. "Spread your wings," he said slowly, nudging me with his beak to get me into the right position.

     I spread them as wide as I could. I felt a little colder, but the joyous feeling of air under my wings trumped everything else. Once more, I felt the power to do anything.

     I instinctively started pumping my wings backwards and forwards, and Yôtin nodded approvingly. "Yes, yes! Keep on doing that, so when you start rock hopping, you'll be a pro." I smiled, as well as one could with a beak, and hopped around the nest.

. . .

     It was the next sunrise, and Atâhk and Waskôw came back from another hunting trip. The sky was blue, and not a cloud in sight. They landed on the ledge and waddled in.

     "We're home!" They sang. I lifted my head out from under Yôtin's wing and hopped over to them as fast as I could.

     "Look," I shrilled, "I'm budging, I'm budging!" I held out my wings for them to see, and they called out in joy. I had been practicing the flapping exercise with Yôtin again, and he had noticed the small points in my skin.

     Atâhk clacked his beak happily. "Those will become feathers in no time!"

     "Congratulations!" Waskôw cried, and she started preening my fluffy white down. "I'm going to miss seeing you like this!"

     I laughed. "I'm not! I want to be golden like you three!"

     Atâhk laughed too. "Believe me, we all felt like that, but now I'm sure we can see how adorable chicks really are." My Mother and brother nodded.

     I didn't think that way though. I wanted to be gold. I wanted to fly. "When can I fly?" I asked, impatient. Waskôw started tearing the rabbit she had caught.

     She handed me a piece, and as she did she answered my question. "You will be able to fly when you understand the meaning of 'fly with your heart'. Until then, all you can do is practice, practice, and practice."

     "But when can I start to practice?" I asked again.

     "When you get all of your flight feathers." Yôtin answered. Atâhk spread his wings and ruffled his feathers, showing me which ones. I looked at my wings and imagined what mine would look like. Shiny, new, and gold.

     Needless to say, I couldn't wait.

. . .

     Another seven sunrises passed, and I grew happier each time I found newly budging feathers. A few were already half finished, and I was now at an awkward crossroads. No longer cute, not yet beautiful, I hung on the edge. When I would practice flapping, I would notice the air gather under my wings more and more. It was an excellent confidence booster, and I continued to puzzle at the meaning of 'fly with your heart'. Would it mean to love flying? To 'fly in my heart?'

     It was all very confusing, but I never stopped asking my family questions. When will I know? Will I be unable to fly if I don't know? I always loved asking Yôtin. We would be talking about his hunting skills – which were still developing, by the way – and then I would drop my famous question.

     "What does 'fly with your heart' mean, Yôtin?" He shut his eyes and clamped his beak shut.

     "Nuffing."

     "Come on," I teased, "it must mean something, otherwise, you wouldn't be flying!" I argued. He seemed to realize that he was backed up into a corner. Obviously, not literally.

     "Like I said, I'm not allowed to tell you." He replied with caution. "You're supposed to figure that out by yourself, because only then will you understand it. If I told you what 'fly with your heart' means, it wouldn't make sense to you because it only makes sense to me. Mum explained that we all find our own meaning, and that is how we learn to really fly."

     I paused to reflect on his last statement. Really fly? I thought you just flew. Nothing special to it. Then again... I recalled all of the times that I had felt like I could fly, even as a chick. It must be in our spirit, I thought, the will to fly. More than instinct. Flying must be our soul.

     And so, as I contemplated this existence over the next few sunrises, I drew closer and closer to my fate, hanging on that awkward crossroads of knowledge. Or rather, the decision that would change my life forever.