The wind over the canopy ran clean and true, carrying the dazzling Vaelrith with a steady strength that needed little guidance. She rode it with quiet confidence, her great wings cutting through the open air in long, measured strokes. From this height, the jungle below seemed almost peaceful, its dangers hidden beneath a dense, unbroken sea of green. The rider leaned forward slightly, resting a hand against the argentavis’ neck, drawing comfort from the familiar rhythm of flight and the way Vaelrith responded to even the smallest shift of weight. They had flown together long enough that words were seldom needed, yet she spoke to her anyway, if only out of habit. “Easy, girl,” she said softly, the words instantly stolen by the rush of air.

Something about the jungle below drew her attention. It was too still. No movement stirred the canopy, no sign of life broke the endless green. The silence felt unnatural, as though the land itself held its breath. She frowned, her instincts urging caution, and for a moment she considered turning back, abandoning the route and seeking a safer path. She did not. The attack came without warning. A sharp, violent crack split the air, followed instantly by the sickening thump of lead meeting flesh and a searing impact in her side that drove the breath from her lungs. For a heartbeat, she did not understand what had happened. Then the pain came, deep and burning, and her grip faltered.

As the rider recovered the reins with a jerk, Vaelrith cried out, a harsh, screeching distress call that vibrated through the rider’s bones. The bird’s wings stuttered for a fraction of a moment before she fought to steady herself. The rider clung to her, forcing her strength to return, forcing her mind to focus through the white-hot fog of pain. “Down,” she managed, her voice a strained rasp. “Get me down.” Vaelrith obeyed without hesitation, dropping through a narrow break in the canopy as branches tore past, angling toward the only clear ground within reach: a small outcropping of rock rising above the surrounding jungle. It was not a safe place to land, but it was all that remained. The descent was too fast. Vaelrith struck the stone hard, her talons scraping before they found purchase. She flared her wings wide to halt their momentum, but the impact drove the rider from her back, and a fresh wave of agony flared through her body as she struck the ground.

For a time, she could do nothing but struggle for air, the smell of crushed ferns and coppery blood filling her senses. When at last she forced herself to move, she found Vaelrith already beside her, watching with a quiet intensity that spoke of understanding far beyond simple instinct. “I’m all right,” she said, though the words rang hollow even to her own ears. Her hand pressed against her side came away slick and dark. The wound was grave, and she knew it at once. Still, she set to work. Years of training guided her movements even as her strength began to fade. She bound the wound as tightly as she could, pressing cloth against it in a desperate effort to slow the bleeding, but it was not enough. The blood seeped through her efforts, warm and relentless. She tried again, tightening the bandage until stars danced in her vision, forcing her hands to remain steady, but the result was the same.

A grim understanding settled over her. This was not a wound she would survive. In a different place, surrounded by allies, she might have had a chance. But out here, help was a world away. As the reality of her isolation set in, hope broke right along with her body. The jungle remained silent around them. No second attack came. Whoever had struck her had no need to do so again. Vaelrith moved closer, her presence a steady reassurance. The rider reached out, resting a hand against the argentavis’ feathers. “You’ve done enough,” she said softly. There were no more choices left that did not end in death for both of them. She would not allow that. With agonizing effort, she reached for her pack and withdrew the cryopod, turning it over in her hand as her expression tightened with the weight of the decision. Vaelrith watched her, unmoving. “I’m sorry,” the rider murmured, resting her forehead briefly against the argentavis’, drawing what comfort she could from the contact before activating the device. A brief flash of light, the faint hum of cold ozone, and Vaelrith was gone.

The silence that followed was heavier than any sound. The rider sat for a moment, the cryopod held loosely in her hand. Though the pain in her side burned fiercely, it seemed distant now, as though her body had begun to surrender to it. She forced herself to move once more. If she were found, anything she carried would be taken, and the thought of Vaelrith falling into careless or unworthy hands was one she could not accept.

Summoning what strength remained, she dragged herself to the edge of the outcrop. From this vantage point, the world felt caught between two giants: to her left, the towering shadows of the Redwoods stood like ancient sentinels, and to her right, the silver ribbon of the river wound its way through the valley. Far to the northeast, across the water, the Green Obelisk pierced the sky, its emerald glow a mocking reminder of a home she would never reach again. The soil was loose enough to work, but every scoop of dirt felt like moving a mountain. Her vision tunneled; sweat and blood pooled in the dust beneath her. She dug with slow, agonizingly deliberate motions, pausing often as blackness threatened to overtake her. At last, the hollow was deep enough. She placed the cryopod within it, along with what few belongings she could spare, and covered it carefully.

A simple marker would be enough. She marked the site with a single letter, an X. It would not be found by chance, only by intent. The note took longer. Her hand trembled violently as she wrote, though her purpose remained clear. She read the words once when she had finished, then left them as they were.

“If you found this, fate chose you.
She doesn’t belong in a box.
Let her fly farther than I could.”

When it was done, she leaned back against the stone, her strength entirely spent. The sky above remained as it had always been: clear, open, untouched by the violence below. She allowed herself a faint, tired smile. “Good day to fly” she whispered. Her eyes closed, and did not open again.