Catching The Wind

Brayden-Lynn is another avian hybrid created by The School, but more advanced than any of their batches. Ever. But the thing is, she doesn't know where she came from, nor does she know how she obtained all these abilities, such as: flying with massive wings, excellent eyesight both day and night, and let's not forget phenomenal hearing and a locked in destiny that Brayden must find herself. But how can she live with all this if she doesn't even know who she is? Follow Brayden-Lynn in her adventure on defeating erasers, The School, and finding who and what she is.

{A Maximum Ride fan fiction}

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2. Chapter 1: Fumes

                I like being in trees. It makes me feel as free as—what else—a bird. The wind slightly blowing through my hair and feathers of my open wings feels amazing.  And come to think of those things, I never described myself, huh?

                My wings are about twelve feet in span, and they’re black with a few burgundy flecks or… spots (I really have no idea). My hair? Well, it’s black as well, but it also has light blue streaks placed in random, separated areas. I’m at average height of a sixteen-year-old, but my metabolism says otherwise. It probably has to do with what I am.

“Bray,” a voice whispered behind me. Startling me out of my thoughts, I swung around into a round house kick, my foot meeting to a super-model-like guy, sending him flying back. A pleasurable thud came from afar, making me smile. I tucked my wings in and looked down from the tree, finding the stranger limping his way back to the stem.  His sudden presence didn’t scare me. He smelled like dog. I hate dogs. I’m not scared of them; they just seem to give a dangerous vibe towards me.

“Name,” I demanded, glaring down at the perfect stranger.

“Peter,” he groaned.

“Who sent you?”

“The School.”

That was pretty vague detail. Was it code for something? But all at once, a part of me felt familiar with the title. I shuddered a bit, but covered it by unfurling my wings again.

“What is this ‘School’ you speak of?” I questioned, swooping down in front of him. For sure, this guy smelled like dog. I hated the odd stench. I sniffed him a bit more. “What species are you?”

Excuse me?” he snarled.

“What species are you?”

“Listen here, bird kid—“

“What species are you?” I repeated, this time more stern than before.

“Eraser,” he spat.

“And this School that you speak of? What is it?”

“I am not allowed to say.”

“Then, I refuse to follow you.”

                The eraser took a walkie-talkie out of his pocket and spoke into it: “The bird kid is refusing. Bring in Michael.”

“Who’s Michael?” I asked. “And what the heck is an eraser?”

“None of your business, pigeon!” the eraser yelled, throwing a fist at me. I quickly dodged and grabbed his wrist into a tight, unbreakable grasp. He howled in pain and I gave him a grim smile.

“Don’t ever call me a pigeon again, okay sweets?” I said innocently as I leaned into him. He began to morph in what looked like what he smelled like. You’ve guessed it: a dog.

“Whatever, pigeon!” he spat again. I squeezed his wrist even tighter, hearing a slight crack.

“What was that, mutt?”

“I see you two are getting to know each other,” another voice chimed in. Peter and I looked towards the voice, finding a man in a white lab coat approaching us. I smiled, though his lab coat triggered certain anger in me that I couldn’t describe.

“Why, yes we are, huh Peter?” I giggled, breaking his wrist even more. He whimpered in pain and managed to nod.

“I’m Michael,” the white coated man said, “Michael Emberson.”

“What’s with the lab coat? Are you a science teacher?” I asked.

“Why would you ask that?”

“Because your buddy, Peter, told me about your place called ‘the School’. Is it code?”

“Uhh…”

                I took a step closer to Michael and got a strange scent from him that made my nostrils burn and my stomach churn. I felt knots forming in places they were not needed in.

“Michael, do you want me to follow you into this School?” I asked, unable to avoid this bitter… antiseptic fumes.

“Of course, Bray. We need you.”

“You smell like distrust,” I sneered. There was silence between the three of us, both Michael and Peter having a puzzled face.

“What do you mean, Brayden?” Michael asked after a moment.

“I can’t trust you,” I sighed, walking away. “As your kind says, ‘the nose knows’.”

                I started into a run and jumped, letting my wings catch me in the air, carrying me off into the sky.

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