Thresholds

  “I haven’t even looked at the food I packed yet,” I laugh. I open the bag, taking out at least 5 candy bars for both Shiloh and August, tossing little bundles to them.

“Obviously you have,” August retorts as he catches his, placing them into his bag. “And trust you to bring candy, Zephyr.”

“I can take them right back, mister,” I give him a dangerous look. Shiloh puts theirs into a blue backpack they’d been carrying. The one that August brought is green and mine is black, so I guess that will be easy to tell. Midday sunlight filters through the canopy, dancing shadows on the Dome platform where we had stood not yet an hour ago. I zip up my bag, putting my pocket knife on a clip that loops around one of those little things that jeans have to hold up a belt. I can detach it anytime, but I’m grateful that it won’t come off by accident. “What supplies do we have, other than our clothes, food, and bedding?” I inquire.

“Knife, stuff to start a fire,” August answers.

“I’ve got a first-aid kit, my knife, and as I previously stated, bedding and stuff” I add. “I think that’s all we really need, then! I smile, fluttering my wings a bit. Not sure if I’m scared or excited, I think to myself. But at least I have my friends. This would be SO much more frightening without them...

“You guys ready? Because I am,” August says, breaking me out of my thoughts.

“I’m good too.” I nod.

“Shiloh?” we say simultaneously. We give each other a look of amusement, then look back at our companion, who is looking at the treetops far above us. They seem worried, but I’m not quite sure what about. Shiloh looks back at us, then grins.

“All good here,” they reply, flexing their blue wings. August lifts off into the air first, Shiloh following suit, and I take up the rear. I beat my wings, catching up. I look at them wonderingly. It's so weird how much we're like humans, I think to myself with awe. Aside from our wings and our weird strength, we could blend in with them perfectly. I then think about the only time I'd ever met a human— a man named Anthony. He was perfectly nice, and he looked just like us. I wonder how piloting their giant airplanes feels. I sidle up beside my companions.

“Are you still nervous?” I ask Shiloh quietly. They look over at me, giving me a questioning look.

“Are you?”

“Yes, but it’s not as bad, now that I have you two here,” I grin.

“I feel the same way,” Shiloh admits. “While we were down on the floor, it was so nerve-wracking, having everyone just staring at us like that. But now, with us leaving, my nerves have calmed down a lot.” I brush their wing with my own, and keep flying.

“It seemed like something was worrying you back there, though,” I persist. Shiloh sighs, then smiles.

“I don’t think ‘worry’ is quite the word, though,” they insist. “Being with my mother has given me a lot of stress, as you know.” And I do know— Shyloh’s mother sees herself as perfect, and she’s manipulative and absolutely terrible. I met her once, actually, and immediately wanted to stab her in the eye, so for fear of me giving myself a bad reputation, I never went back since. “Neither of us like her, and you understand what happens in that family. So I think that instead of being worried, I’m just confused, since I’m finally free to think for myself.”

“Well, I have no problems with being perfectly bossy so you don’t have to feel the stress of thinking for yourself,” I joke, and Shiloh flicks me with their wing. “I’m just kidding— unless….” They flick me again, and we both laugh. Shiloh seems a bit subdued, though, and I know it’s not entirely what they said. But if they don’t want to talk about it, I won’t pressure. August slows down, swooping back to us.

“We’re nearing the clan borders, and the trees are getting lower,” he says. “We might have to walk.”

“Fine with me,” Shiloh shrugs. The trees pass us in a blur, and there is something about how the land is that captivates me. It almost seems… enchanted. Our wingbeats create a gust that stirs up the leaves in a whirlwind. I feel like the most powerful being there is. I control the wind, and the sky obeys me. No wonder Lumaki like to fly so much. 

 We keep going, and soon enough, we land. I drop down first, then August and Shiloh. We stand in a small clearing with no underbrush, the trees still towering overhead. The grass beneath our feet is soft, and small branches and leaves crackle as we step on them.

“We stand here, at the edge of the clan borders,” I announce, feeling my chest constrict a bit. “At the edge of Sanaki, our home, and everything we have ever known.” They both nod, and Shiloh steps forward.

“Here is where our journey begins,” they add with an air of amazement. We look into the beyond, where the trees become unkempt and the grass grows wild. It’s like a literal threshold into adulthood, which seems kind of ironic.

“So beit,” August grins. “This marks the end of our childhood.” I take a deep breath, and they turn towards me. Their eyes say it all, but I want to speak it aloud. Speaking always has been the way to solidify your beliefs, at least, as far as we know.

“We must make a pact. Not of friends, but of siblings, and of soul fast partners. From here on we only have each other, and we must be strong.”

Shiloh nods. “We must protect one another and be loyal.”

“To be brave.”

“For our Wings, and for the sake of us.” 

I take out my pocket knife, opening it. The handle is dark blue with veins of white, like electric lava, and the blade itself is a matte silver. Everything falls silent, and it seems as if the world itself is holding its breath. I look at my prized possession, and I press the blade into my hand gently. I wait for the other two. 

“Are you ready to take the leap?” I ask as I look into their eyes. The three of us nod at each other solemnly. I take a breath, taking it all in for the last time as a child.

“Then let’s start.” I drag the blade across my hand, letting the blood drip from the wound. It’s so weird how blood is. It looks blue when you see it in your veins, but when it comes out, it’s crimson and not nearly as thick as you expected it to be. A flare of pain shoots up my arm as I dig the blade into my palm, but I don’t stop. I then cut the other one, ignoring the sharp needle-like sensation and letting the blood pool. I hold out my hands in a gesture of complete surrender and contempt. The other two make the same marks, Shiloh grabbing my right hand, and August my left. They then connect their open hands, and we make our oath. “May our Blood Brotherhood stand fast against whatever perils are in store for us.” We stand there for a while more, our blood mingling, our palms throbbing, and sealing the promise. “Our adulthood begins.”