Even since the nuclear winter passed and I took my first flight, I never wanted to land. I spent more time in the air than anybody else in the flock, well except for mama. It seemed that it was the first thing she'd do after waking up and hugging dad and me super tight. She'd be off. Rocketing through the new, clear sky at superhuman speeds, she would return half an hour or an hour later with her blondish brown hair unkempt and her face wind burnt red.

    This morning when I wake, she is already gone. Probably because-judging by the blaring sun high in the sky-it's already noon. I roll on my side, careful to not lay on my large, raven black wings. I feel the vibration of footsteps through my sleeping bag on the cave floor and I shut my eyes, but it's too late. "I know you're awake, Phoenix." Dad says, his voice sounding amused. "Time to get up and do something, we're burning daylight."

    I grunt, rolling back onto my stomach and spreading my wings out like a blanket. "C'mon Phoe." Dad sighs, I feel his arms hook under my arms as he lifts me. I go limp. "You're just like your Aunt Nudge." He grumbles. "Up." I moan, but stand up, turning to face dad while rubbing my eyes.

    "Happy?" I ask, looking around the cave. When I say cave, please don't picture some old, crumbling little hole in the side of a hill. The cave we live in is much nicer than that. Wooden stilts help hold up and cover the mouth of the cave (except for a space where a door should be) overlooking miles of ash flats, almost barren except for surviving, ancient Incan structures and a few trees, trees only as old as I am, according to mama. So the oldest tree would be twelve years old, then. No, thirteen. Yesterday was my birthday, which was why I had stayed up so late, usually mama would give me a stern look ordering me to go to bed, which I would return with an equally cool stare, but in the end she'd win. Nobody is as stubborn as her.

    The cave's floors and walls have been smoothed down in an unnatural way, and wires of electricity are strung along the sides powering items from the stuffy bunker we used to live in. Much of our furniture came from the bunker too, nothing fancy, just folding chairs, sleeping bags and some pillows. I remember a lot more luxurious items in the bunker, but we had to ration supplies with the rest of the surviving mutants. Plus we couldn't carry a lot of weight from Russia to Peru. I don't remember much about the journey anymore, but I know it was hard and long. Lanterns on the wall illuminate the cave giving it a warm, orange glow. "Is everyone else up?"

    Dad nods, turning to walk out of the cave, his wings, which are same raven color as mine, are tucked tightly behind him. I follow, stretching my arms above my head, my wings spread out in the same way. Wings aren't an attachment to me, they are a part of me, which is why I can't picture myself or others without them, or some other mutation. I can't picture humans being a thing. Or cities. Or any large civilization at all, really.

    My eyes the color of melted chocolate flutter as I reach the mouth of the cave and sunlight invades my vision. "Ouch." I blink again, and my raptor eyes adjust. The sky is a vibrant blue, but the earth beneath me is still coated in ash and dirt. I am told stories all the time of how there used to be large, tall trees thousands of years old, the tallest things in the world, well except for mountains obviously. And man-made 'skyscrapers' which are no doubt melted down into twisted scraps of steel buried under layers of dust.

    "Oof!" I get the air squeezed out of my lungs as two arms wrap around me and lift me off the ground. "Morning Gaz." I huff. "Now put me down, you're going to crush my ribs." I order, my voice carrying the same tone mama has when she's irritated. Gazzy lets go. I turn around only to get my long, black hair tousled. Nudge gives me a hug too and I roll my eyes, playing it off like I was too old for hugs.

    "Can't believe my niece is already thirteen, you're finally old enough to blow stuff up." Gazzy smirked, his blue eyes gleaming at the thought of explosions. "Not that we have anything around here to build a bomb out of...or something to blow up." He glances around the barren ash flats. "Oh!" He must have thought of something.

    "What'd you mean by 'finally old enough'?" Iggy interjects, looking over to our general direction with pale eyes. "I had you as my bomb-making assistant since you were seven. Remember when we made one out of Max's Mickey Mouse clock? We sent those Eraser bast-I mean, jerks-sky-high." His smile turns into a frown and he goes back to scrambling eggs on a hotplate. Angel, who was silently perched on a rock, looks over to Iggy solemnly.

    "Really?" I say, surprised. I cross my arms. "So this 'no explosives until you're thirteen' thing that mom made up is total bullcrap? I knew it."

    "To be fair, we were under special circumstances." Gazzy shrugged. "Just be glad the post-apocalypse is a lot safer than pre-apocalypse. No erasers, no wack-job whitecoats."

    "But no cookies sadly," Mama said making me jump, I turn to see her landing crudely on the cliff, folding her brown, speckled wings behind her back. Her voice was surprisingly monotone.

    I frown, noticing that her expression isn't as blissful as usual. Her eyes are burning like coals, her mouth showing the ghost of a frown. Angel takes in a deep breath, obviously reading her thoughts. "What's wrong?" I ask, glancing around as the flock gets to their feet, unfurling their wings. Angel must have shared mama's thoughts with everyone, everyone except me.

    I let out a hurt scoff as mama, dad and Angel hurried into the cave, talking in serious voices amongst themselves. Helllooo? What's happening!? I think angrily, hoping Angel will notice and fill me in. If you guys are going off to fight, I want in. I'm not missing out on another one. Iggy rises to his feet, tilting his head, obviously hearing something no one else could. "What is it?"

So, this is the end of my first chapter. Sorry that it's so short, but that's the Maximum Ride style anyways. Let me know what you think of my portrayal of the flock and what you want to see happen next!

-Becca