"Well, I'm glad to know it's not just us seagulls."
"You have spent most of your life as a wolf. It's natural that you would find the ways of flying difficult." He shook the rope tied to the branch near his legs. "Come."
"If it was as easy as coming, I'd be a natural." I rose, and bit back a groan as a dozen fresh aches erupted across my torso and legs. Damn, I was going to be black and blue by tonight. Not that it really mattered. It wasn't like I had anyone to go home to anymore.
Pain rose like an old ghost. I quickly shoved any thoughts of Kellen back into the box labeled "do not think about," then reached for the rope and began to climb. It had been two months since we'd split. I should be getting over it by now. Should be getting over him.
But I wasn't, and I wasn't actually sure I ever would. I'd loved him, and he'd walked away. And not for the reason I'd most expected - the fact that I was infertile, and a half-breed. No, he'd walked away because I was a guardian and wouldn't give it up. And the fact that I couldn't, thanks to the drug and the havoc it was still wreaking on my system, hadn't made a difference.
He'd walked away. Become just another man who couldn't accept what I was. Another man who'd managed to smash my heart.
I'd had just about enough of the whole damn "love and relationships" thing. So much so that, since our split, I'd been keeping pretty much to myself. Of course, I was a werewolf, so the moon heat would always ensure sex was a part of my life. But that one week was about it for me and men. It seemed that love and I were never going to find a happy medium, and as much as I still wanted the whole picket fence ideal, I just wasn't up to coping with the whims and foibles of men right now.
Chocolate, coffee, and ice cream were far more reliable when it came to providing a good time, and at least they would never disappoint me.
I just had to thank the fast metabolism of a wolf for the fact that I hadn't put on any weight over the last few months. If I were human, I'd be the size of a house.
I reached Henry's branch and edged carefully past, sitting down and letting my feet dangle. My fingers were clamped around the branch tightly and I avoided looking down. Since my last fall off a cliff - the same one in which I'd gained my gull shape - my stomach had been getting a mite queasy at even the slightest hint of a drop. Though I suppose that jumping repeatedly out of this tree and landing face-first on the ground below - and not breaking any bones - was going a long way toward curing a little of my unease.
I took a deep breath and blew it out softly. "So, explain it all to me one more time."
"A bird does not fly by simply flapping its wings," he said patiently. "Hold your arms out now, and try moving them really fast."
I did, feeling like a fool. Luckily, we were on Henry's estate up in the Dandenong hills, and well out of the way of curious passersby.
"Now, try turning your arms as you move them. More air motion happens as you twist your arms, does it not?"
I nodded, though to be honest, the difference was negligible. But then, maybe I'd hit the ground one too many times and my skin just wasn't up to feeling anything anymore.
"This is how it works with a bird. On the down-stroke of the wing, the leading edge must be lower than the rear edge. And it doesn't just move down, it moves down and back, providing lift and forward movement."
"Yep, got that totally." Not.
He clipped me lightly over the ear. "Enough of the smart mouth, young woman. You can do this. You just need to think."
"All the thinking cells are either too bruised or knocked senseless," I muttered, edging a little farther along the branch so he couldn't hit me harder.
Anyone would have thought I was a teenager back at school again. I used to get clips over the ear for my smart mouth then, too.
"Think," he said. "Down, back, then up. Not up and down. Now change."
I blew out a breath, then shifted position and called to