wanderlust | aza

R A V E N
B A R K E R

What was falling to those who could fly but a sick cruel joke?

What was flying to those who could only fall but a dream to never see the light of day?

Her steps were careful then, but it had taken practice. She remembered when she stumbled her way through life, and work had gotten her where she was. Her hand tightened around the handle of her brother's hatchet. Near the end of the handle, he had scratched the letter "G.B." into the rough wood. Directly above, were now the letter "R.B." She raised the hatchet in the air as she spun in a complete circle.

She was not the bird for which she was named, but in that moment, she flew. For once n her lifetime, Raven Barker was not falling. She was not a victim, not by circumstance or unhappy coincidence. She was free, at least in those fleeting moments, and she could have disappeared and gone anywhere she so pleased.

But the blade was her wings, and as it left her fingertips, her feet remarried the ground. She watched as it tumbled end over end through the air and buried itself deep within the trunk on an old oak.

It was getting dark, she realized as she squinted through the treetops. Beneath the canopy of forest leaves, it was almost always dark, and oh, how she had grown used to living in shadows, but her mother would not have been pleased if she was not back at a decent time to make dinner.

Like most days, she stopped at the square of black fencing that took up several acres and walked through a gate marked "CEMETERY," but this day was particularly special. She found herself standing in front of the headstone on row nine, column seven. Gavin Barker was laid to rest there many years ago. A friend to some, an enemy to others, but a brother to her. And he was gone.

She pulled the small yellow flower from behind her ear and dropped it on the grave.

"Happy birthday, Gav."

The anger within her was real, and it grew stronger on days like that. A corrupt system was a corrupt system, no matter what people said. It was no matter of opinion; What happened every year would go on happening. More people would lose their Gavins and their Rowans. And she was just one girl. One stupid, clueless girl from a lower district, where no winners resided, where death was a sure bet.

Her careful feet carried her further and further away from two people she had once called family, and eventually when she turned around to look, she couldn't see them anymore.

What she did see when she turned around was potentially just as bad. A girl, a beautiful girl with blonde hair and a willowy stature walked quick pace, with a boy close behind. "Come on, pretty girl! I just wanna have a quick chat!" The boy was older. Much older. In fact, he was not a boy at all, but a grown man praying on the girl. As they passed Raven, he reached to grab her forearm, and instead, Raven intercepted.

"Step off, Pig. She isn't interested. And I suggest you leave now before you have to do so with a limp."