Lillibeth Tripp's Arc

Chapter 4 of 9

Lillibeth's wings ached by the time the cliffs rose ahead. She landed on a flat ledge she did not know. The drowsy rabbit shifted against her chest. Her compass spun, then settled, but the needle pointed only north. North was not the edge. She needed to know which way the sky opened and which way it dropped into nothing. A small wooden cabin sat at the cliff's lip. Its metal roof was streaked with rust. Wide windows framed the empty sky. Lillibeth pushed inside and spread a torn star map across the dusty sill. The painted constellations did not match the stars she knew. The lines pointed somewhere her chart could not name. She stepped back out onto the deck. A wrong launch would strand her over open air with no cliff to catch her. She closed her eyes and listened. Nothing told her which way to jump. Then she saw the grass. A thick cluster grew at the cliff's edge, blades bent hard in one steady direction. Not gusting. Not shifting. Leaning. The true wind came from inland and poured outward, over the drop. Lillibeth knelt and watched the blades for a long minute. They never wavered. That was the breath of the open edge. She tightened her cloak, checked the rabbit, and faced the way the grass pointed. She stepped off the ledge. The wind caught her clean and carried her forward, not down. She had her direction now.