“Don’t cry, baby. When you cry, the sky cries with you.”
Amaya’s daddy had said that to her, growing up. He’d point out the window at the encroaching clouds, or at the storm or the shower, and say the same thing, every time.
When she tripped and skinned her knee, “Don’t cry, baby.”
When she failed her first class, “When you cry...”
When her date to homecoming left her all alone, “...the sky cries with you.”
When she stepped on the plane to leave everything behind, “Don’t cry baby.”
“I know, Daddy. The plane won’t fly through turbulence.” She'd smiled, then. She'd learned not to cry by then, even when she was miserable. Or, as now, terrified.
“And when you get upset, things get pretty turbulent.” He'd patted her shoulder and sent her off.
Off to... this place. This strange place with its strange people and its strange... everything. She looked around again, as if that would make it better.
She’d thought Beckett was pretty cute. He had a tail.
She was pretty good about not crying, but this was ridiculous. A tail.
She wasn’t sure about Irvy, but she was certain he had scales. That was just unfair. Amara swallowed back a sob.
Edan, Edan! He had a voice that calmed her right down, wicked cool tats, and he was in the only band Addergoole seemed to sport. But he was sporting prickly fur down his back and a personal field of ice-cold air. It was too much.
Way too much. She gulped, swallowed, and tried to find something safe for her eyes to settle on. Aleron. Aleron was cute, cute, and nice, and very taken…
…and sporting a pair of wide, green wings.
The air above the Dining Hall opened up with rain.