Apparently bark isn't very aerodynamic.
At least, that's what I'm blaming my terrible flying performance on.
It's been thirty minutes, and no matter how hard I try, I can't get off of the ground.
All of the other faeries say that they got it instinctually, and that everyone takes off a little differently.
So I'm trying again.
And again.
And again.
I sprint out along the grass, arms right to my sides, and as I jump I snap my arms out as fast as I can. The other faeries say that my idea is ridiculous, it'll never work, you'll fall flat on your face.
It can't be any worse than any of the other things that I've tried, can it?
My wings catch the air, and I'm shot up into the air by the wind. I lean easily to the right, flapping a little. This is easy. They just made it would hard. How else would I be able to do this so quickly? Maybe I just needed to try it my way.
My wings are quickly becoming tired and achey, so I tuck them into my sides and plummet to the ground in a nosedive. I pull my bark-covered wings out at the last second, pulling up to land on my feet.
Flying isn't as amazing as people think...
Wait, what? People! What are people? I must be a people.
Person, Stella! A person, not a people! What kind of grammar is that?
Wait, what's grammar?
Ugh! That stupid dream! I hate it! Why do I keep on remembering things from it? Forget it, Stella! Just forget it! You don't need to waste your life thinking about a stupid dream!
"Are you okay? You came down really quickly."
"Yeah, I'm fine. My wings just hurt, I guess."
"Already? Maybe you shouldn't have tried flying. Your wings might not be strong enough yet. Maybe you should wait a while before going up again."
Żirji (EEZ-eer-JEE), the teal faerie, has been helping me out a lot, but she worries too much. She just needs to take a break.
I shake my head at her. "You worrywart. I'm fine." I laugh a little.
"Are you sure? You look pale."
"Żirji. I'm covered in bark." I giggle. "Reality check, girl! Bark can't be pale!"
"Oh, can't it?" She sasses back, and I smile. I like her sass. "It can be a lighter shade of brown. Which your bark is right now."
"Psh. It's the same shade of brown as it has been for the past seventy hïlâ. Chill."
"I will not chill! You're pale! You need a break! No more flying!"
"How else am I going to find the trees?"
She stops, shocked. "You mean you're actually going to look for them? Stella. You can't. They drink blood, for goodness sakes!"
"How else will I be accepted? You were born here. I don't know how I got here, but I was from somewhere else. I dream about it sometimes, but it definitely isn't here. You're used to everyone just seeing you and thinking 'she belongs'. I don't belong! And I'll never belong if I don't finish this!"
"Are you sure?" She sounds almost afraid for me. I've made a friend.
"One hundred percent."
"Okay. Eat first."
I have a meal of fruits and vegetables (no meat - I didn't catch anything so I don't get anything). When I'm done, I wave goodbye to Żirji. She's my only friend so far.
The faeries start off, so with a final wave, so do I. My wings feel much stronger, even though it hasn't been long since I flew. These wings are thickening super fast.
I coast along, looking for anything that looks like trees. I don't see any, but they have to be here somewhere.
I fly over some bark stubs coming up from the ground. They look kind of tree-ish. Ish. I'm not really sure what it is.
I tuck my wings in, this time appreciating the adrenaline rush as I plummet towards the ground headfirst. It really is fun.
Well, I was higher than I thought. The little stubs are getting closer very, very slowly, and I can tell now that they're really, really tall. None of them have leaves, just branches that stick out like arms with smaller branches like fingers on the ends. There are jagged rips on what I assume are their fronts - mouths. Dripping blood.
I don't want anything to do with these trees. No urge to get any closer. But I need to - there's no other way to be accepted.
I pull out my wings when I'm around twenty feet from their tops, which is much closer than I ever wanted to be. Okay. I don't have a choice. I need to talk to them.
The shortest trees are a hundred feet tall, and the tallest one must be two hundred. I'm hovering two hundred and twenty feet above the ground. That is awesome.
Focus, Stella.
The trees have mouths that are stained with blood, the liquid dripping from their faces. They aren't moving; resting, I guess. I alight on one tree's branches, strangely unafraid.
"Hey, uh, I'm all covered in bark now, so what am I supposed to do for you?"
The tree that I've landed on is one of the tallest, maybe a hundred and eighty feet high. It's voice is loud and rumbling, and extremely excited.
"Oh! What's this? A little morsel of faerie for me. The blood is still warm, even! Is it my birthday?"
His voice is sadistic and somewhat sarcastic, but mostly insane. Almost like he's had too many Fae drinks.
"Uh, I'm Stella. I've got bark, see? The unicorns and the faeries accepted me, and I need to know the rules the trees set for me to earn their trust and move on to the mermaids."
The tree laughs. "Oh, how silly! I haven't told you my name. It's Dā. And the procedure is simple, really." He smiles, as much as a tree with a rent in wood as a mouth can smile.
"You need to live amongst us for a ghil."
A ghil? That's only forty-one minutes in Earth time!
Ugh, that stupid dream had time?
I can handle a ghil. This will be nothing.
"Keep in mind, Stella dearest, that we're all rather hungry."
Do they need sun or something?
Oh no.
That blood isn't from biting their barky lips.
They drink blood. And I'm an easy target.