Soaring

Another plain, cold porridge for breakfast.

Lefric stared at his little bowl of porridge, suspicious that one of the sisters probably spit in it. He narrowed his eyes on one of the sisters that busy pouring food into the bowls, but they paid him no mind.

"Eat. You'll need it," Maro said. He's sitting beside him, gobbling up the tasteless porridge.

Lefric scrunched his nose in distaste, mindlessly poking the gooey food with his spoon. "Uh, I'm good,"

"Can I eat your food then?" A wyvern grunted from beside him. Lefric pushed the bowl toward them, and the wyvern grunted appreciatively. Lefric watched in horror as the wyvern practically inhaled the disgusting porridge.

"I've lived here all my life, and I still can't get used to this," Lefric mumbled. Then, he giggled when the wyvern burped loudly, causing others that sit near them to groan in disgust.

"You need to take what you can get. Be more grateful the sisters are willing to feed you," Maro sagely shook his head, placing his empty bowl on the table.

"You're so old," Lefric groaned, cringing on his seat. "I want to taste something else other than bland goo and rock-hard bread,"

"You know the sisters can't afford luxurious meals. Let alone an apple. It's a miracle that this orphanage is still standing," Maro shrugged. He licked the empty bowl happily, wagging his bushy brown tail.

"They could've just thrown me away so I can look for better food. I can live in the forest! Or better, having a great adventure across the land to taste every food in Ifri," Lefric's eyes sparkled, holding up his spoon to the air.

"There he goes again," Proctor—the dwarf—chimed in the conversation, shaking his head. "Keep dreaming, raven. Maybe you should have dreamed about being able to fly next time,"

Several muffled giggles erupted, echoing in the huge hall. Lefric shot a glare at the tiny dwarf, who only shrugged in nonchalance, a smirk on his face.

"What? I'm just helping you out," Proctor said. His friend nudged his shoulder with his elbow, indicating for the dwarf to stop. But Proctor didn't listen. "You're a little artist with a lot of imagination, right? Listening to me may get you even more creative,"

"Shut up, Proctor," Lefric growled under his breath, red eyes slightly flickered.

Proctor scoffed. "What are you going to do? Hit me? You can't even chase me with those useless wings of yours on your back,"

"Proctor," This time, Maro stepped in. He challenged Proctor silently, and that's when everyone knew that the fight wouldn't proceed any further.

Just when Maro was about to pull Lefric away from the hall, Lefric turned around and pointed at Proctor.

"I won't be able to chase you because my wings slowed me down, but it'll be easy for me to fold you like a pancake, midget,"

"Why you—"

And that's when all hell broke loose.

Maro yelped when the other kids pushed him aside so they could watch the fight between Lefric and Proctor. They all chanted 'fight' excitedly, and Maro could only look up listlessly—asking the heavens to help him.

Lefric bit Proctor's arm and Proctor managed to pluck one of Lefric's feathers, which hurts a ton, by the way.

"What in the heavens—Lefric! Proctor! Stop it this instance!" Sister Antia yelled, her eyes turned into slits, and her long, sleek snake tail slithered on the ground as she marched toward the crowd.

The crowd dispersed in an instant, leaving Lefric and Proctor on the floor. The lamia hissed. Her green eyes were sharp and intimidating. Lefric gulped and let go of Proctor's shirt, letting the little dwarf fall and roll on the ground. He let out a loud 'oof' and glared at the raven.

"Grounded for twenty-four hours. If I see any of you wandered outside, I'll be sure to give you proper punishment. You boys don't want that do you?"

There were never any physical punishments. But one of the most horrid one was cleaning the entire church without leaving a single speck of dust behind was worse than getting punched on the face.

Lefric gulped, eyes widening and nodding frantically.

"Yes, sister Antia," Lefric and Proctor mumbled, still secretly glaring at each other as they sauntered over their rooms.

When Lefric entered his room, Maro greeted him with a boring look. He's sitting on the edge of his bed, reading his book like always.

"Grounded?"

"Grounded," Lefric confirmed, dejectedly walked to Maro's bed and hopped onto it. He shifted his wings and then hissed in pain over one spot where Proctor plucked one of his feathers.

Maro noticed and reacted in an instant. He put down his book beside him and scooted closer toward the raven, carefully checked his friend's left-wing. Maro sighed and lowered his pointy ears.

"You're so reckless. You already know that when you pick up a fight with someone, they'll always come for your wings. And you know that your wings are very sensitive,"

"I know. But I can't let him to just—just—"

"Berate you," Maro supplied.

"Yeah, that's the word,"

"I know you have an abundance of dignity, but sometimes you need to sacrifice a little bit of your dignity to protect yourself. You need to love yourself more, think about your wings,"

"My useless, good for nothing wings," Lefric gritted through his teeth, his wings drooped to the bed.

Maro furrowed his eyebrows, ears perking up. "You're young. You'll be able to fly someday when you matured,"

"Birdfolks fly when they're six, Maro. I know you're trying to comfort me, but we both know that I won't be able to fly, ever,"

Silence was the only response Lefric got. He stayed quiet while hugging his knees, letting Maro silently tending his injured wings.