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"What did I say, Poppy?" Ma's voice rang throughout the wood, echoing around the clearing, "About practicing your flying alone?" The clearing was large, surrounded by towering oak trees. They stood strong and thick, casting large looming shadows over the clearing. Their presence was imposing, almost like they were standing guard, reminding Poppy that there was no way she could escape. Ma had brought her here after finding her jumping from tree branch to tree branch, attempting to capture a breeze under her wings, gathering enough momentum to glide to the next branch. The crunch of the sticks under her was loud as Ma paced back and forth, animatedly gesturing along with her words, and her eyebrows were creased together in the way they always did when she was displeased with something Poppy had done.
Poppy shifted uncomfortably from where she was perched on a log laid sideways. The frustration at her mother for not letting her fly had long ebbed away, having sat like this for long enough to only feel embarrassment and shame. She hated being in trouble, and even more so hated doing anything that resulted in her Ma's anger. It made her feel small, like a little kid again, and worst of all made her feel like her mother didn't believe she was capable enough to do things the way the adults did. She wasn't a kid anymore, she could do it. Just because her wings were smaller than other birds, doesn't mean she couldn't fly. She just had to try a little harder, keep practising.
"Not to do it..." She mumbled, "But Ma, how will I ever learn to fly if you don't let me try?" She looked up, hopeful. Her feathers were moulting, the dark grey and black patches left were due to turn colourful soon, like the rest of her plumage. She was a small little thing, only just beginning to grow up, Ma thought. Her wings weren't fully in yet, certainly not enough to fly safely - and besides, Ma liked having her home, where she could keep an eye on her.
Ma moved closer, sitting next to Poppy, "You can fly when your wings are ready; you shouldn't push yourself, dear." The older bird's feathers were duller, greying slightly, and her left wing was crooked, bending at an awkward angle. Whenever Poppy had asked what had happened, she was regaled with tales of horrible monsters - a cruel world full of violence, and a dark look on her mother's face. She didn't ask Ma very often. Poppy opened her mouth, about to cut her mother off, arguing that there was no good reason why she should wait, before Ma finished, "I wouldn't be able to catch you if you fall."
Ma's gaze dropped and she flexed her hand repetitively. Poppy grasped it firmly with a smile that didn't reach her eyes, and Ma moved her hand out of Poppy's, holding Poppy's chin, pulling it up and making sure she could make eye contact with her daughter as her expression softened, "Promise me?" She murmured, "Promise me you won't fly 'til your ready?"
Poppy blinked twice, before biting her lip, "Of course, Ma."
---
Poppy cracked her window open slightly, leaning out into the cold air. It was nighttime, and her mother was fast asleep in the other room. She doesn't have to know, Poppy thought, and, if she doesn't know, then what's the harm? She had a bag in one hand, with a mason jar of water and some snacks tucked inside.
It was just her and Ma in the flock, Pa died when she was young, and Ma took over all the responsibilities. Ma taught her to read and write, cooked dinner and taught her to bake. Gentle hands were always used to guide her, letting her try things as many times as she needed. "Perfection takes time," Ma always used to say. Poppy knew that it could take nights to get it right, and that was okay. She knew that when she had got it when she could finally fly, she would be free. Besides, Ma had said she should wait until she was ready - and she was ready now.
She squeezed herself through the window, leaving it open. She'd be back soon, learning to fly could take weeks or months, and she knew she shouldn't get her hopes up. Still, she could feel the familiar adrenaline through her veins. The world wasn't cruel, she would prove her mother wrong.
Poppy followed the tree branch across, warming herself up by jumping from platform to platform. Ma couldn't fly, but she still liked having her perch in high places, so their home was nestled into the crook of an oak tree, with a platform between each of the branches. Pa had built a safety net just under the tree's canopy, in case Ma did fall, so it would only be a short drop. Poppy usually practised flying within the forest, the safety net there just in case - she may disagree with her Mother's fretting but if she breaks a wing then she'll never fly anywhere again. But she had been training enough, she could glide short distances, and as she neared the edge of the forest, on a high enough branch to truly gain momentum, she knew she was ready.
The forest was almost eerily silent. Poppy had chosen a clear route for her first flight path. She stretched her wings gently, back and forth, the repetitive movement soothing her. Her feathers rustled slightly in the wind, the tree trunk hard and secure under her feet. It was important her muscles didn't cramp mid-flight, and that she was calm enough to keep a clear head. Her breath was still a little shaky as she exhaled. She dropped the bag on the ground, and took a deep breath, in and out, calming herself. She cracked her neck. Her heart raced, and she focused on her body. She backed away from the edge of the branch, getting into position, before running, and jumping off the branch.
There was a horrible second where she was falling straight down, a momentary pang of "What if Ma was right?" as her stomach dropped out from under her before she felt the wind catch under her wings. She exhaled a breath of relief, and then a noise of joy as her face split into a grin. She was doing it, she was flying! Her wings billowed out on either side of her, and she flapped a little, practising changing the height she was flying at as she tested her new ability. The wind rushed past her face, stronger than she had ever felt it, and she was higher than she had ever been.
As she looked around her, the trees looked like they were flying past her, and the fireflies helped provide light as she got the hang of flying for the first time, joy bubbling up inside of her and leading to laughter as she swooped in between branches, up and down, left and right. She flew just above the nearby river, watching the fish jump in the water, and she leaned her right wing down and ran the tip through the flow of water, cold against her wing.
She pulled up, flying a little lower than before as her wings started to ache. She needed to find a place to land and soon. She looked down and found a small clearing nearby, shady and surrounded by trees. There were a few rocks and a small pond. It was good enough and she landed. She sat down on the rocks, tucking her wings in, and letting out a tired sigh. Her eyes drooped with tiredness, and her body was sore and ached. She might have overdone it a little, but it was worth it to finally feel the breeze on her face. She'd just rest here for a few moments, she thought, and then when she was well-rested, in the daylight, she'd fly home.
---
Poppy yawned, stretching as she woke up. She was resting on something hard, harder than her usual bed of soft leaves. There wasn't the familiar scent of Ma cooking breakfast or the warmth of the fireplace she was used to. She wasn't home. She looked up and took in her surroundings.
She was in the same small clearing as last night, with twigs and leaves on the floor, painting the flooring in red, orange and brown. The trees still towered above her, but as she looked closer she could see that in the daylight the trunk was thinner, the branches were more spindly; there were a few clusters of blackberries in the trees. She looked around. Her stomach sank, and dread filled her, as she frantically tried to find the direction where she came from, but all the trees looked the same. There was no difference, no markings, not even a suggestion of which direction she had come from. Everything looked different in the daylight.
Ma had never told her what to do if she got lost, because she had promised to never leave; and now all Ma was going to find was her bag, and she was going to die in a clearing all alone, starving to death, with no way to escape. She hadn't broken a wing, but maybe flying hadn't been what she wanted - maybe Ma was right, and home was safer. What was she going to do for shelter? What if the world really was cruel, and something was going to get her sooner rather than later? Her hands grew sweaty, and her breathing quickened, and she knew she was spiralling, but what else was she supposed to do?
A series of noises sounded through the clearing, rhythmic and echoing, like the beats of a drum. Poppy hid behind a rock, although it was far smaller than she was, and crouched down, making herself look small.
"Oh, hello!" A voice echoed, but she stayed hidden, eyes down, even as the man continued speaking, "Are you alright?"
The footsteps moved closer, and she looked up briefly. Was this one of the monsters Ma had been talking about? His skin was a warm yellow, and he had pink-red hair hidden under a blue thing on his head, the rim black and sticking out, with something circular and shiny on the front - a status symbol perhaps. Although, he had a rainbow thing around his neck that looked to be made to keep him in place. He had a bag round his middle, with the same emblem on it and some words written on it. He looked friendly, but Ma had said so did the people who broke her wing, and she couldn't afford to take that chance.
"I'm not going to hurt you," he moved closer still, just the other side of the rock, "You can come back to the neighbourhood, and you can eat and sleep in a bed, and you can meet the others. We're like a family."
There were more of them? She had to admit, being somewhere warm with a bed was a better bet than sleeping out the others. Poppy looked up at him, and he smiled in response, "What's your name?"
"Poppy. What's yours?"
With unbridled confidence, he looped his arm under hers and pulled her up to her feet, "I'm Eddie. Welcome to the neighbourhood, Poppy."