Whisper Rosepetal's Arc

Chapter 1 of 1

Whisper Rosepetal pinned the Grand Sky Race flyer to her cottage wall and read the rule that ruined her: fastest flyer in every realm wins. She was a cat-fairy with freckles and sharp teeth, and she wanted that crown more than anything. But her wings were the problem. They were tiny, furry, and iridescent, and they buzzed like a bee stuck in a jar. She flapped them now, hard. She lifted three inches off the floor, then dropped. "I'll be lapped before the first turn," she said. Her pet ladybug landed on the flyer. He wore a little orange top hat and had blue spotted wings that carried him fast. He zipped a circle around her head to show off. Whisper glared. "Rub it in, why don't you." She marched outside to the training machine in her garden. Flowers wrapped its rails, and orbs of light drifted around its belt. Whisper climbed on and set it to full speed. The belt roared. She beat her wings and chased it. Ten seconds later she flew off the back and landed in the grass. A tall flower with a smiling face leaned over her. Light orbs circled its petals. "Wings won't win this race, little one," it said gently. "They have to," Whisper said. "Everyone flies with wings." "You're half cat," the flower said. "What does a cat do that a fairy can't?" Whisper sat up. She looked at her own legs, at her clawed feet in the grass. Cats didn't flap. Cats sprang. She thought of how she pounced on moths in the dark, fast and low. She climbed back on the machine. This time she crouched. When the belt roared, she didn't flap first. She launched. Her back legs kicked off the belt like springs, and her wings snapped open only to steer. She shot forward, faster than she had ever moved. She matched the belt. Then she beat it. Her ladybug buzzed beside her, struggling to keep up. His top hat nearly blew off. Whisper laughed with her crooked, glittery grin. "Not flying," she said, breathless. "Pouncing." She leaped off the machine and sprang across the whole garden in three long bounds. Her wings hummed behind her, steering, not lifting. She landed clean by the cottage door. The smiling flower nodded. "Now you have a chance." Whisper's heart pounded. She had her answer. She would spring and glide, spring and glide, all the way around the racecourse. Her tiny wings weren't the engine. Her cat legs were. Then a horn sounded, far across the sky. Somewhere a crowd cheered. Whisper looked up and saw a banner unfurl above the distant race gates. The registration deadline was today, at sundown. And the sun was already sliding low behind the hills. She grabbed her ladybug and ran.