I glide through the night air, wind buoying my white wings upward. Exhilaration guides my every movement, slight flicks correcting my direction. I tuck my wings against my chest and spiral downward, whooping in delight as I plummet to the Earth. The action is both terrifying and spectacular, but I have faith that I will catch myself before I hit the ground.

Ocean looms beneath me, and I remind myself of Icarus who flew too close to the sun. But my wings aren’t made of wax, and they won’t melt or dissolve when I throw myself into the waves. The splash creates a satisfying sound, and I grin as I flail to the surface, gasping for breath.

Flying at night offers the best rewards, for the night air crackles differently. My wings carry me safely towards shore, and as I float, I watch the stars dance. The sand crunches, the trees whistle, and an owl hoots somewhere within them.

Here, I am far from all those who enslaved me, from the lassos that curled around my wings, teaching me to beat them for strength while tying me to the ground. Yet, out here I am free, left to fend for myself against the wild. I contemplate entering the woods, flying away from all that I have. It would not be hard to run out into the night, never returning.

The idea seizes me like the air around me, so I run without caring for the tracks I leave behind me, dashing into the woods and screeching at the top of my lungs. I heard it would throw off any threatening animals, but when I halt my progress and listen, I hear nothing.

Eyeing the forestry behind me, I trudge forward, but my right wing snags on a branch behind me. I turn back and try to yank them free, but feathers rip free with them, and to my horror, droplets of blood splatter to the ground.

Clutching my wounded wing to my chest, I press forward regardless, looking for a perch to spend the night. I climbed upward, but I picked up the soft pad of an animal somewhere nearby, and I circled higher into the air, struggling to avoid the branches stretched out to trap me.

Then, a predator leaped at me, snarling even as I shot out of the way, trying to make it high enough to break through the thick canopy above me.

We raced, but soon I finally reached it, the immense patch of the night bursting around me. A howl ripped through the night, and I shivered in frustration, gliding back out and circling over the forest as I contemplated my next actions. I did not yet have the skills to survive on my own, despite all the training I had gone through. I circled again before unleashing a cry of my own frustration and gliding back in the direction of the camp.

The night air did little to comfort me, and as I spiraled downward, I cried for the enslavement that would soon suffocate me once more. I plummeted—

—and I watched the eagles coming back home, coming back to the handlers and the chains that would cuff their ankles to their perches.

I stared at my own hands and feet, once more examining the one weakness in the iron shackles. “I am not ready,” I whispered to myself. “But soon I will be free.”

And I came back home, towards my imprisoners.