fingers around the meat of his upper arm, ready to grip hard.
“Oh.” He looked at the hand, and then began to work at the straps again. Once he had released the strap at his sternum, I could feel his body beginning to sag out of the harness. He glanced at me once, nervously. The strap at his abdomen seemed to prove more difficult, perhaps because of his weight straining against it. With only one strap left—this one at his pelvis—he looked downward and said, “My legs.”
His legs were still strapped into their own harness. “Hold onto the harness there.” There was one trick that I had not tried for a very long time, one that had allowed me to reach branches otherwise too flimsy to bear my weight. I flexed my legs briefly, and then hooked them underneath the branch again, this time with more strength. Gripping the branch in my hands, I fell over sideways in a slow, controlled topple until I was hanging upside-down. I swallowed hard. When I was confident that my legs would hold, I released my hands from the branch and hung there. If I reached forward just so, I could touch his right foot with my fingertips, and if I scrabbled for a moment for purchase, I could fit my fingers into the ankle strap. Marcus swung his leg out for me, which delivered his foot square into my two hands.
Quickly, I unbuckled the two leather bands that held his foot snug in the harness. My muscles were trembling by the time I was finished, and a cold sweat had beaded on my forehead. His other foot was just out of my reach, though if Marcus twisted it and I stretched to my limit, I could snag its harness with my fingertips. I grit my teeth as I sought for a grip, and was able to tease open the straps using little more than my nails. Only when his foot was free and I had eased back did I realize I had been holding my breath.
There was no moment to relax. Marcus was hanging by a single strap. I climbed back into an upright position and willed my muscles to stop shaking, then reached forward again to take him by the arm. He was completely motionless, tense with fear. “I’ve got you,” I said. “Let the last one go.”
He did. His body dropped, my grip tightened around his right upper arm, and the branch I straddled bowed under our combined weight. Above us, the trees quivered as his weight was suddenly released from them, and the wings shook and slid. I cried out as I dropped downward with the branch and instinctively tightened my hold on it with my other hand.
“Grab a hold!” I cried, swinging Marcus toward the sturdier branch beneath us. He missed on the first try, but caught hold on the second. At that moment there was a sharp crack, and then I was falling—truly falling—as the branch gave way. Marcus, still gripping my arm, yanked at me, and I slammed down beside him, knocking the air from my lungs.
As I struggled to catch my breath and catch a hold, the broken bough cracked and fell. It clattered against the trunk and its leaves whipped past us. We clung there in the aftermath, barely moving, just being, until Marcus chuckled nervously and said, “I didn’t know you could—”
A groan of metal and wood cut him off. The sound quickly crescendoed. The trees shuddered and the wings crashed to the ground. With a great swish and a whirlwind of leaves, the trees rushed upright again. Finally, truly, the forest stilled itself.
We looked at each other as my heart continued to pound under my tongue, and then we began to laugh. It was a nervous, exultant laughter. Weak and trembling, I lowered myself to the ground. My palms were raw and red from the rough tree bark, but I was well and in one piece. Marcus dropped down next to me and pushed his goggles up. He threw his arms around me and kissed my mouth with a smile on his lips.
“Marcus, your shoulder—” I gasped.
“It’s fine.” He grinned and kissed me again. “You are marvelous! ” Then, his expression grew serious and he said, “The ship.” He looked off in the
“Oh.” He looked at the hand, and then began to work at the straps again. Once he had released the strap at his sternum, I could feel his body beginning to sag out of the harness. He glanced at me once, nervously. The strap at his abdomen seemed to prove more difficult, perhaps because of his weight straining against it. With only one strap left—this one at his pelvis—he looked downward and said, “My legs.”
His legs were still strapped into their own harness. “Hold onto the harness there.” There was one trick that I had not tried for a very long time, one that had allowed me to reach branches otherwise too flimsy to bear my weight. I flexed my legs briefly, and then hooked them underneath the branch again, this time with more strength. Gripping the branch in my hands, I fell over sideways in a slow, controlled topple until I was hanging upside-down. I swallowed hard. When I was confident that my legs would hold, I released my hands from the branch and hung there. If I reached forward just so, I could touch his right foot with my fingertips, and if I scrabbled for a moment for purchase, I could fit my fingers into the ankle strap. Marcus swung his leg out for me, which delivered his foot square into my two hands.
Quickly, I unbuckled the two leather bands that held his foot snug in the harness. My muscles were trembling by the time I was finished, and a cold sweat had beaded on my forehead. His other foot was just out of my reach, though if Marcus twisted it and I stretched to my limit, I could snag its harness with my fingertips. I grit my teeth as I sought for a grip, and was able to tease open the straps using little more than my nails. Only when his foot was free and I had eased back did I realize I had been holding my breath.
There was no moment to relax. Marcus was hanging by a single strap. I climbed back into an upright position and willed my muscles to stop shaking, then reached forward again to take him by the arm. He was completely motionless, tense with fear. “I’ve got you,” I said. “Let the last one go.”
He did. His body dropped, my grip tightened around his right upper arm, and the branch I straddled bowed under our combined weight. Above us, the trees quivered as his weight was suddenly released from them, and the wings shook and slid. I cried out as I dropped downward with the branch and instinctively tightened my hold on it with my other hand.
“Grab a hold!” I cried, swinging Marcus toward the sturdier branch beneath us. He missed on the first try, but caught hold on the second. At that moment there was a sharp crack, and then I was falling—truly falling—as the branch gave way. Marcus, still gripping my arm, yanked at me, and I slammed down beside him, knocking the air from my lungs.
As I struggled to catch my breath and catch a hold, the broken bough cracked and fell. It clattered against the trunk and its leaves whipped past us. We clung there in the aftermath, barely moving, just being, until Marcus chuckled nervously and said, “I didn’t know you could—”
A groan of metal and wood cut him off. The sound quickly crescendoed. The trees shuddered and the wings crashed to the ground. With a great swish and a whirlwind of leaves, the trees rushed upright again. Finally, truly, the forest stilled itself.
We looked at each other as my heart continued to pound under my tongue, and then we began to laugh. It was a nervous, exultant laughter. Weak and trembling, I lowered myself to the ground. My palms were raw and red from the rough tree bark, but I was well and in one piece. Marcus dropped down next to me and pushed his goggles up. He threw his arms around me and kissed my mouth with a smile on his lips.
“Marcus, your shoulder—” I gasped.
“It’s fine.” He grinned and kissed me again. “You are marvelous! ” Then, his expression grew serious and he said, “The ship.” He looked off in the
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