I wake up to pain. I try moving my shoulder and it doesn't work. It seems dislocated. My head rings, and I can't see quite straight.

  But I'm alive.

  I get up and look around. There’s no building anywhere near me. Just savannah, sparse vegetation, and yellow sand.

  I'm alive, but I'm not out of the woodwork yet. I look at my thigh. The massive gash that was there is no longer bleeding, and there's a scab over it.

  Huh… even though I say thank you, I know that you’re getting entertainment from this. I look up for a moment.

  “Thank you.” I said to the sky , knowing that they would hear it. Parasites.

  So there is a form of interaction that is available. I think, then look around.

  Open status… I say mentally.

  I Look at the trail of smoke in the sky and follow it. There might be supplies. The yellow sand looks like gold when bathed by the sunset. It is pretty distracting, so I stop stalking and begin my trek.

  The night has fallen. Critters are moving around and I'm starting to stress. The wings are retracted, but I can't move my right arm, and the gash on my leg has me walking with a very clear limp. I can smell sweat and metal.

  I come up on some debris and a few limbs. So this is what a human being looks like when there's no life in them… I stare at the bodies.

  They are mutilated.

  Not a single one is kept together. All of them are separated. Head from shoulders, legs from torso, at some point I even see a pair of legs with a bloody spine attached to it. So bones aren't supposed to be completely white huh… I pause, and then I feel my stomach act up, and I hurl. Its bloody, disgusting, and painful.

  I need to focus. I'm here for food. I hurl more,...and water…and a first aid kit for my..

  GRRRRR..

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  I hear a deep, resonating growl coming from behind me, and I freeze. The moon is shining bright, but not bright enough to show me the shape of whatever beast has discovered me. Of course. With all this blood, there's no way nothing comes to see it.. I pause and scan the area. Every shrub looks like it could be hiding a fanged animal now.

  I'm at a buffet… standing on the plate of food everyone wants to eat.

  A mass of black leaps out from behind a small rocky outcrop and catches me flat footed. Its maw is massive and filled with fangs the length of a single finger. Those fangs get heart-stoppingly close to my throat, before my wings are out, blocking them

  They are much harder to use in a solid state. The leopard trails around me. It’s eyes tracking me with slow and deliberate menace. The way it moves is mesmerizing. If it wasn't trying to kill me, It would look so cool. It watches and growls deeply.

  The Leopard pounces again, and I wrap myself in my wings, but can't quite get them to move fast enough, and I feel a freight train’s worth of weight push me right onto my ass. I scramble up fairly quickly, but the beast is right there, going for my neck again. This time, I roll over, and it just nips my foot, leaving a jagged gash in the sole of my sneaker.

  The leopard then goes back to prowling. Its eyes relay one message—you are food, and I am hungry.

  The beast pounces again, but this time I'm ready.

  Wait….

  Wait…

  It is less than a meter from me, when I just gently jump up, to make sure my feet aren't connected with the floor…

  NOW!!

  I bend the needle tips of my metallic wings and wait for the beast to land right on them.

  It does, and it howls.

  It's the sharpest howl that I have heard, and it runs through me—a reminder that even Prey can become a predator. Even a tiny little ant can kill an elephant. The euphoria runs through me and I feel pain in my cheeks.

  Not done yet… I pluck a metal like feather from my wings, stab the Leopard in the neck, and drag the weapon across its flesh. That should do it.

  I look up and say thank you, before holding my breath and looking into the main body of the plane, to find a broken terminal, and a few pieces of uncooked meat and my metal thermos. Thank goodness. I think, before quickly grabbing the thermos and meat, then limping off. I take off my shirt, and wrap the meat and thermos in it, before checking how much time I have left on my Spark.

  I wish I had Psychopathy sometimes. I think to myself, as I look at a dismembered leg that has a shoe that isn't destroyed on it.

  I quickly turn away from it, and activate my wings. Two hard flaps had me high enough that the dead bodies looked like insects and the blood looked like smudged red crayon. I took off in search of a river. They flowed into the ocean, and if I flew along the coast long enough, I would get to a city. From there, a single call will take me home.

  A few flaps later, and I'm moving fast. The wind rushes past my skin, and the cold bites into the hole in my trouser, where the cut on my leg was. My wings start to feel slightly unresponsive, so I very quickly take the hint, unwilling to fall out of the sky again. I tuck in slightly, tilting myself forward and begin my descent. Of course, it's unwieldy, and I find myself face planted, but ironically, the impact relocates my shoulder. And i can move my arm again.

  Its going to take a while, but as I make my way home I'll practice. For now, i need to find somewhere to sleep.

  A big tree did a good job, and to my luck, no more leopards attacked that night.

  ***

  The wind roars, rushing past me as I push myself higher, wings flaring wide to catch the updraft. My back wings flex, minute adjustments still too big. Cultivating a flying instinct isn't easy. These big guys don't always listen…they’re still unwieldy. The smaller set on my calves twitch in response, counterbalancing, but I can feel the misalignment. I wobble midair.

  Not good.

  I grit my teeth and shift, angling downward–not too steep, Not too shallow. Do it ‘just right’.

  I adjust my wings, pulling back at the last second. My feet hit the ground hard. The impact shoots pain through my legs, and momentum forces me into a stumbling run. With sneakers scraping against the dirt, and I barely stop myself from face-planting. Again.

  I exhale, irritated. It’s an improvement. But this isn’t good enough.

  I shake out my arms, roll my shoulders, and kick off the ground again. The motion is smoother than before—my wings respond quicker, the stabilizer wings keeping me from wobbling too much. Their fine tuning really helps with adjusting to the random gusts of wind. This time, I adjust my trajectory sooner, feeling how the air shifts around me, how my wings interact with it.

  I twist midair, testing how much control I have over my rotation. My wings hesitate—then snap into place.

  Yes. Better.

  The ground rushes up again, and I focus. This time, I extend my legs earlier, angling my calves to act like stabilizers. My back wings flare wide, catching just enough air to slow me down without stalling. My feet hit the dirt, and for a moment, everything holds—

  Then my balance wavers. I still have too much momentum. I stumble forward, but it’s only a few steps this time before I catch myself.

  I laugh breathlessly. That’s the closest I’ve gotten to a clean landing.

  Not perfect yet. But close.

  I can feel it—one more push, a little more control, and I’ll have it.

  So I launch myself up again, only for my wings to vanish, retreating into their hiding place on my back.

  Shit.

  The ground is so glad to have me back that it kisses me—hard.