A Day in the Clouds (Chapter 21) - The Hours Between 0100 and 0200 (Part 1 of 2)

_{This is a continuation of the Steemit-exclusive, original novel A Day in the Clouds. Be sure to check out the previous chapters to catch up with the story. Enjoy!}

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_{The multi-talented @verbal-d (who, by the way, edited this chapter) has bestowed a wonderful gift for this story. Known for his lyrical rhymes, he's also a master when it comes to mixing melodious beats. To enhance the reading experience, play this on loop in the background as you read this chapter. Take a deep breath, and allow yourself to be consumed by the entire experience. Please be sure to follow and donate to @verbal-d! You can also follow his work on SoundCloud.}

Life has a way of bringing you where you need to be. That was the last thought that crossed my mind as I plummeted off the highest point of the Andes. Clouds were the only view afforded to me during my descent. And, when you're perpendicular to the ground at this level, the only direction for you to go is south.

I closed my eyes, and held my breath. Feeling the fierce winds strike against my skin, I curled up into a ball. I clutched my legs close to my chest. When it felt right, I flipped forward, turning my body upside down until it was parallel to the ground. I slid my hands to my side, then put my feet together. The loose strings in my ropa and boots flitted in the air, so I fastened them to my wrist and ankles. With one swift motion, I lifted both my arms, as if I was urging the ground beneath me to an embrace, and spread my legs apart. The sides of my clothes and the insides of my pants unfolded. They revealed the fabric wings stitched between the seams.

I stopped falling as soon as the clouds parted to reveal the ground below. It was an exhilarating feeling not knowing if the jump would be my last. The wind resistance could've easily ripped my wings off from my ropa. It was always a gamble whenever I jumped off a towering height. There were no backup measures to ensure that I would fall safely if my equipment failed. It's not that my people were dim-witted that they haven't thought about contingencies. We were just raised to be brave and to entrust our whole being to Bathala.

The wings functioned more like sails, which allowed me to glide through the air with ease. In conjunction with my viento, I could simulate flight by adjusting how the wind hit my fabric wings. The patterns painted on them make it seem like I was invisible whenever I float above forests. From below I looked like a flying squirrel with its patagium outstretched.

    "Nice form," Prito complimented, as he came up behind me. "Your new duds are holding up quite well."

    "Thanks! With Bathala by my side, there's nothing I can't do."

    "If that's the case, then they should've named you Adarna instead!" Lumpia teased, as she glided wobbly on my other side. "Squawk! Squawk!"

    "Oh please don't sing," Adobo pleaded from behind me. "I don't want to fall to certain death!"

I went along with the joke and hummed the tune that my mother sang to lull me to sleep. In the stories, there was a magical bird named Adarna. It had the magical power to make anyone who listened to her singing fall into a deep slumber. The bird never wants this, of course. Whenever people fell asleep in the middle of its serenade, it seeks revenge. It perches above them and, out of frustration, defecates on them, turning them to stone.

While no one had ever seen the legendary bird in person, the village elders swore that the stories were real. They train us to resist falling asleep. Some go as far as to cut themselves and douse the wound with lime juice. Personally, I prefer to shake myself awake rather than permanently scarring my arm.

Prito retracted his wings and pretended to faint. We all laughed in response, and he eventually caught up with us after a few seconds.

This was a common practice among the youth of our village. They urged us to practice our flight technique, and so we did. Granted, we're on the outer edge of being young, but it was still a productive pastime to engage in. After all, flying was my people's main means of transportation.

We did flips, and loops, and other acrobatic maneuvers to prove our mastery. Nobody else saw our display, and it was perfectly alright. Considering everyone else knew how to fly the same way, our display would impress anyone.

    "Quit fooling around," Kinilaw remarked, as he zoomed past us. He didn't care that he almost hit Adobo. If the collision did happen, he would dismiss it as Adobo's fault for not avoiding him. Among our age group, people considered Kinilaw as the best flyer. But, he had no close friends because of his brash nature.

    "Hey! Watch it!" Lumpia chided. "This isn't a race, you know?"

By the time she had finished talking, Kinilaw was already far away. I could've sworn that he replied something like "If this was, you all would've already lost." Though, I could never be quite certain.

    "Never mind him," I consoled. "It's always cold in the mountaintop where he pitches his tent."

I closed my eyes, and focused on the sound the winds made against my ear and clothing. The rhythm of the undulation was soothing and next to none. It was cold where we were, as wisps of snow sneaked in the orifices of our garbs.

    "I wish we could stay like this forever," I mused. "Like stay up here, floating, not needing to land."

    "I know what you mean," Prito followed. "It's peaceful up here. No lectures, no responsibilities."

    "Easy for you to say," Adobo interrupted. "You fellows fly like your wings are attached to your bodies. For me, my shoulders ache while trying to maintain a straight trajectory!"

The three of us couldn't help but laugh upon hearing Adobo's complaint. She was a skilled armas wielder, but her balance was wanting. Often the butt of jokes, Adobo was one of the most compassionate people in the whole village. She was very good-natured, and she always took things lightly. Her face wrinkled, trying to portray annoyance, but chuckled along with us in the end.

    "Let's head on back," Lumpia suggested. "I could feel the sun setting, and it's hard to navigate at night."

As soon as we neared our village, the sun did slowly descend. Lumpia had always been the serious one among our group. Others have often commented that she was tightly wound. But, we knew that she was just always lost in her thoughts and couldn't be bothered with trivial things. Beneath the surface, she had a variety of unexpected interests and skills.

We performed acrobatic stunts right before arrived in our village. At the entrance of the village, there stood a burly figure waving at us, welcoming our return.

    "Menudo!" Prito greeted. "Where were you?"

    "Yeah, what gives?" I followed. "We waited for you for hours before we jumped!"

    "I'm sorry, friends," Menudo excused. "My left wing had a tear, and I had to get it patched up."

    "Was it serious?" Adobo inquired. "Was it easily fixed?"

    "No, nothing to be worried about," Menudo assured us. "It's still torn though, so it might be a while before I'll be able to fly with you guys."

Ever since he was assigned to the village construction committee, Menudo had spent less and less time with us. Being older, he finished his training earlier than us. He was held back because he was a sickly child, that's why he worked hard to strengthen his body. Nobody told him to stop, that's why he kept working out. He ended up having a physique the strongest men of the village were envious of.

    "What? But, why?" Prito asked. "I thought you spent the whole day having it patched up?"

    "I did," Menudo replied, scratching his head. "Well, I would've if the queue to the repair hut wasn't as long as it was."

    "Couldn't you just have left your *ropa *there?" Lumpia queried. "I mean, I'm sure it would've been finished by now."

    "Yeah, well, that's the thing though," Menudo answered. "I haven't worn this in a while, and when I stretched it out it got ripped. I hurried to the repair hut, and I forgot to bring a change of clothing. There were two other people in front of me then. So, I raced back to the house and brought with me some spare clothes. When I got back, there were already six people in the line!"

Prito and I sat on the ground. Based on the way he was narrating his tale, we figured that this was going to be a while.

    "My mother called me to run an errand, and when I returned there were already ten. So, I ate instead, waiting for the queue to whittle down, but it never did."

    "Oh, wait," Prito interrupted. "Was that it? Couldn't you have just asked someone to hold your spot?"

    "I would have," Menudo replied. "But, I was too embarrassed."

    "Classic Menudo," Lumpia concluded. "We'll fly some other day then."

We all laughed, as we sat on the edge of the village. No one wanted to say it, but we all knew that Menudo was nervous to fly. Since his job didn't require him to routinely soar the skies, he didn't have enough practice. Compared to him, Adobo would look like Kinilaw in his prime, if they ever flew side by side. We didn't care if Menudo couldn't keep up with us, we just wanted to spend a day with our friend. However, Menudo didn't want to slow us down, but was too embarrassed to say it out loud.

The sun set just beyond the horizon, and it painted the sky a rusty orange. We bid our farewells, as we each went home to where our families were staying. There were no permanent homes in our village. But, families slept in the same place, wherever they find themselves in.

_{Cloud Image Source}

_{The extremely passionate @ryivhnn has created this magnificent viento-inspired artwork for this story. Close your eyes and picture this masterpiece, as you imagine Ledd soaring to new heights. Please be sure to check out @ryivhnn's wonderful artwork and in-depth logs of her experiences with homeschooling her children. You can also become a patron of hers on Patreon so that you can support her regularly.}

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