Mass

How big did the wings of a parasail have to be anyway? I’d heard of people wearing wingsuits, but did they have to have parachutes too? I had no idea.

I was doing the math the best that I could, and if I’d touched any birds I might have a better idea of necessary wing to weight ratios and everything else. As it was, all I could do was stretch myself as thin as possible and hope for the best.

***

This had been a terrible idea, although I wished I’d realized that before I’d jumped out into the middle of the air several hundred feet above the hard concrete.

***

I smashed into the side of a building and I immediately tried to extend tentacles to grab onto it, but we’d already bounced away. Mr. Walker was now hanging limply, and there wasn’t time to assess his condition as I was desperately trying to keep us from simply plummeting to the ground like a stone. I extruded part of myself to hold his neck steady and to protect his head as well as I could.

Smashing into the side of another building, I opened a doorway in front of us, and as we plunged through, there was an updraft coming off the ocean as we were suddenly closer to it. I used it to gain a little altitude, but only for a moment. It took a moment to stabilize into a glide, but I finally managed to get it under control. Medhall was at the west end of the city, and we were heading east toward the Bay.


***

I wrapped more of my mass around him now that he was unconscious, and when we finally hit, we’d barely cleared the shrubs. I could feel myself losing mass as we skidded over thirty feet at more than twenty five miles an hour.

***

Feet-Vibe