Broken Wings

Two Steps Forward...

"Gaah!!" I grunted, squeezing my eyes shut against the blinding sunlight. I leaned against the cavern wall while I tried to get my eyes used to open daylight again. Wasn't expecting that. Should have been. I'd just spent two weeks in the dark. Things you don't think about. I cracked my eyes open just enough to see the clearing a few steps ahead. In time, I began to distinguish details from the brilliant blur outside: an expanse of patchy grass extending from the base of the cliff to the tree line, branches churning in the wind, and the wide blue sky dotted with painfully white clouds. I snapped my gaze back to the ground and blinked fresh spots out of my eyes. I also caught another whiff of fresh air, untainted by even a hint of the smoke I'd been breathing for weeks. I stood back up from the wall, mindful to maintain my balance on my left foot while I set my crutches for the next couple of steps. When I felt steady, I stepped and swung the last couple of yards until I was outside again. Finally!

I stopped once I was out of the shadow of the cliff side and just stood there for a moment, eyes closed, head tilted back, basking in the familiar sensations of the sun warming my skin and the wind tugging at my flight suit. Good god, I needed this. If standing with Anea's help had felt good, and taking my first steps around the cavern with my makeshift crutches had been exciting, then this was nothing short of exultant. Smiling broadly, I breathed in the crisp, free air perfumed with the scent of pine and fallen leaves. It paid off. All the work, all the failures, it was worth it for this.

The morning after Anea retrieved my knife, she decided to go hunting first thing, after, of course, tending to her fire. Then she'd snapped up my leftover scraps of meat (I refused to eat them because they smelled funky) and left without further delay. Once she was gone, I set to work on my crutches. My survival knife turned out to be in perfect condition, despite spending a week and a half exposed to the elements. Upon close inspection, I found the edge keen enough to cut paper and not a single trace of rust. It just had a few blemishes where the dirt had pressed against it. Equipped with a decent blade at last, I had my first pair of crutches almost ready by the time Anea got back.

I'd kept things simple for that first attempt. I just searched through the firewood pile until I found two branches with wide forks and hacked them down to about the right length with the saw back on the blade. It was lucky I didn't finish before the dragon returned because in my excitement at finally making progress, I managed to forget my left leg wasn't quite healed yet. With Anea watching closely, I'd used the wall of the cave to get to my feet, then leaned on the rock while I set the crutches in place. It was obvious right then that I'd be starting over because I'd cut the poles too short. They also felt heavy and awkward to maneuver. Even so, I tried to make them work and managed to swing my left foot forward without tripping. However, the moment I put my full weight on that leg to move the crutches, the dull soreness in my shin exploded into agony! I lost my balance and dropped my crutches to catch myself, but Anea caught me instead. She'd expressed doubt over this idea just before I started and was ready to stop my inevitable fall with an outstretched paw. While setting me down, she'd chided me for pushing myself too quickly and advised that I wait until I knew for sure my left leg was better before trying again. It was good advice, even if my heavy, stubby first attempt at crutches hadn't been more hindrance than help.

I opened my eyes and looked down at the pair now bracing me, proud of my own work. They were the result of my sixth or seventh attempt, depending on how I counted. They were heavier than crutches from a hospital, but still light enough that I could move them easily. They were also a comfortable length. I'd discovered the trick to that was to cut them longer than they needed to be, then gradually whittle down their ends until the length was just right. The branches I cut them from both had wide forks at the top which I'd flattened further with some precise carving. Finally, I'd cut any protruding knots on the wood flush with the rest of the surface in an effort to smooth out the pole I'd be gripping. That created a crutch that was serviceable, but only just. By itself, the wooden end of the crutch had tended to slip on the rock, and the hard armrests chafed my skin under my flight suit. The chafing was a problem I couldn't ignore, because it meant I'd develop sores if I kept using the crutches. So I'd sacrificed the fabric from some of the empty pouches from my flight vest and stuffed them with crushed leaves to fashion crude padding for the armrests. I'd secured these pads to the armrests with some of the twine I'd been idly making whenever I got bored. I'd tied the leftover fabric to the other end of the crutch in the hopes of improving its traction, and that seemed to have helped.