Firewing by Kenneth Oppel Read Free Book Online Page B

ground—almost pulling him off balance.
    For a sickening moment, he thought he’d hit a dead end, but then saw it was just a sharp upward bend in the tunnel. “Here we go!” he said happily.
    He hurried up and around, and then there was another sharp turn to the left and—
    The wind wrenched Griffin around the corner, flaring his wings open from behind, and thrust him headlong down the tunnel. With a cry he tried to furl his wings, dig in with his rear claws, but the wind was too powerful. His wrists buckled and he fell against the ground hard on his chin, stunning himself, the wind blasting him along.
    Desperately casting out sound, he saw that the slope of the tunnel was slowly but surely curving into a sheer vertical shaft, and he was careening helplessly towards it. The pull was overwhelming now, and his thumbs and rear claws cut furrows into the rock. Heaving his body to one side, he managed to lever himself sideways across the tunnel. He lasted only a few seconds before the shrieking wind smacked him loose. Now he was falling, picking up speed, the stone searing his flesh whenever he tried to open his wings to slow down.
    Free fall.
    Down and down. Nose over tail, and suddenly—
    Stars blazing overhead.
    Falling from a hole in the sky.
    He’d been plunging down into the earth, and now he was in the sky, plunging fast. Even when he managed to wrench his wings out, his speed seemed scarcely diminished.
    Gulping air, he saw below him the entire world like an immense ball of dark stone, slowly revolving, so far away. Hecouldn’t believe he was this high, almost level with the stars but descending fast, dragged down towards the surface as if his wings were weighted. Wind screaming at his face, he spiralled in tight circles, blinking frantically to clear his streaming eyes.
    Gradually the world below him started to reveal itself: furrowed ridges of hills, the dark scars of valleys or rivers, black smudges of forest. He tried to find his own forest, his stream, Tree Haven, but this vague landscape was completely unrecognizable.
    A forest swelled beneath him. Still coming in too fast. He was used to the downward dive of a landing, but this was too much. Desperately spraying out sound, he tried to pick out a suitable landing site. He pulled back, angling his wings to brake. He saw the trees hurtling up, and then he was among them, slashed by leaves and twigs and pine needles, and grabbing wildly for anything that might break his fall.

T REE H AVEN
    Shade and his four companions cleared the last ridge and followed the treeline down into the valley. Whole swaths of forest looked as if they’d been swatted over by a giant paw. He could hear the consternation of birds and beasts as he sailed overhead. Please, he thought fervently, let Tree Haven be all right. Not far now, not far.
    There, up ahead, still standing!
    But as he drew closer to Tree Haven, Shade saw that a large branch had snapped off, leaving a jagged hole midway up the trunk. Without hesitating he trimmed his wings and flew through the knothole.
    Inside it was a chaos of wings and voices, newborns and mothers crying out for one another. Shade wasted no time adding his own voice to the clamour. “Marina!”
    He fluttered laboriously through the aerial tangle, crying out Marina’s name. Around him he could hear his other Silverwing companions calling out for their own mates. Shade had helpedhollow out this tree, but since he’d been gone its passageways and roosts had been enlarged even more by the females, and he was no longer familiar with its twisting geography.
    “Shade?”
    He locked onto her voice instantly and wheeled. When he saw her, his throat tightened. She wasn’t roosting, but lying flat on her belly on a ledge, her right wing extended awkwardly.
    “Marina,” he said, landing beside her, and for a few moments, neither of them said a word, their faces and bodies pressed into one another, revelling in the other’s scent and touch.
    “I’m so