Hale had jumped out of the window and was in the air faster than he could pull his wings out. He let himself fall slightly before he forced them from his back and pushed himself up, up, and up into the sky. They strained against his weight and the pain reverberated down the muscles of his wing and shoulder blade base.
Not caring who saw him, or who he left behind. He flew higher and higher, harder and harder. So high that breathing was becoming difficult, but the pain didn't matter. The wind ate at his flesh like piranhas to an open wound. He felt parts of his face freeze and unfreeze with the force of his flight. Still, the pain didn't matter.
