Atlas picked himself back up again. The problem had to be in the gears operating the flap of the wings. He might have tightened them too much. He went back to his workbench, took it off, adjusted the tension and put the straps back on. He made sure to add a little lubricant around the moving parts, in case that was the issue.
Puzzle lay on the beach with her eyes closed as she felt the waves wash over her. She felt like after her accident, well, deliberate mistake, she should be afraid of water.
“It’s hungry, I think.” He measures out a spoonful of sugar out of the canister and fills the bowl from the tap. Atlas mixes the two, and gives the spoon to Puzzle.
The raw air was like knives on her skin. She had grievously misjudged the potency of her artifact and now she was in trouble. Her brother’s hot-air balloon was so far above now. She couldn’t hear him anymore, only the roar of wind past her fur. It became nothing but a shrinking point and then …
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