ctrail

Weather's fine, good visibility, moderate wind speed.

All short-range test flights complete... Now on to the real deal, aiming for ten kilometers.

It's going smoother than expected! Just two klicks left, gotta confirm landing site conditions.

Got a tailwind, gaining speed, better drop—

The wind's picking up! Strong updraft—

Those clouds are coming together quick! No, that's no normal cumulonimbus—

Need to go around!

No, can't evade or drop, the airflow—

Sniff... My nose... so cold... What's that sound...? Need to turn it off...

'...cloud...'

Who...?

'...little cloud... dia...'

So tired... Still wanna sleep...

'...Claudia...'

Mom... Let me... sleep a little longer...

It's day four, little cloud. How're you feeling?

My leg's still swollen... But never mind that, Mom, there's something I want to ask you.

Are you and Dad... hiding something? Is there... anything wrong with me? Aside from the broken bones.

That day, when I hit that strong convection current... and that cloud... It wasn't a big one, but... it was a Catastrophe cloud, wasn't it?

Tell me, Mom.

Alright... Claudia, you've got Oripathy.

How... How bad is it? How long do I have?

Are you in the workshop, little cloud? Can I come in?

What is it, Mom?

I want to be alone.

I don't have much time left, and I've still got lot of work to do... now that my leg's finally getting better...

Claudia... I understand, and you have every right to keep the room locked. But you did promise me yesterday that we would have a proper talk.

I... Does it have to be right now? I'm not breaking my promise, Mom, but... I'm really busy. Can we do it some other day?

You promised me yesterday. You even promised me twice last week.

I'm happy to wait until the day you're ready to open this door, but... your dad's coming home today. You know he can't stay long.

If we can't talk about it today, you'll have to wait another few months before you get to see him again.

How about we make dinner together today, little cloud? You know I'm not too good in the kitchen...

We haven't eaten together since you got home, you know.

Hmm... Are you adjusting the fuel tank dimensions? Looks good to me.

No, it's not good at all...

Mom...

I'm... really tired.

Claudia sits on top of a wooden box, not letting go of the tools in her hand. As her mother walks to her side, she leans her head against her mother's belly.

The same wool sweater, the same softness, the same detergent smell. But why does it feel like everything's changed?

I know I've worried you and Dad, locking myself in the workshop.

But if I didn't, I... I'd feel so unsettled.

...Actually, even when I did, I still couldn't get a moment of peace.

Her mother says nothing, lightly placing her hand atop Claudia's beanie, her palm rubbing against Claudia's ear. It feels warm.

I'm scared, Mom...

It's fine, little cloud. We know this has all been a big shock to you. Whether you want to try something else, or keep trying to get over your fear of flying—

No, Mom. It's not flying I'm scared of.

I'm scared... I'm scared of dying.

You know my dream...

Flying alongside a fowlbeast migration, all the way?

Yeah. From Columbia to Rim Billiton, and back again...

Although nobody on Terra has been able to map their complete route.

I always thought that, if I spent my whole life on this one single thing, then I might finally be the one to do it...

But my life... Why does it have to be so short?

The doctor says your infection isn't serious... Maybe... Maybe in the next few years, they'll find a cure for...

The unnatural pauses in her mother's words are not lost on her. She knows her mother's trying to console her, but her background in science prevents her from making such delusional statements.

I just want time, Mom. A little more time... Enough time.

But why can't I have this... this one little thing?

I'll keep working on the flyer. The fuel tank, the frame, the engine, the nozzles... at least <i>something</i> will see use eventually...

No, the fuel tank still isn't right, I need to dismantle and rebuild it again...

Why don't we take tonight off, Claudia? I'm not joking about my cooking, and we can't exactly feed your dad out of a can when he gets back, can we?

Oh, a message from him. It should be about time... Hmm?

...Claudia, your dad says he found a nest of fowlbeast eggs just about to hatch, but their mother's terribly injured and won't make it.

I think... he's going to bring them home.

That should do it... What do you think?

Hmm, light bulbs for heat, okay. As for the padding... let's add another layer. Where did I put that scarf... Do you have any idea, little cloud...?

I think towels should be okay too, I'll go grab a couple.

There, all done.

Hopefully it's not too late...

It should be fine. Your dad kept them against his belly the whole way back.

But... the deadline for my paper's coming up. The eggs should hatch in a day or two. Can you look after them?

Eh? S-Sure, since you're busy...

Claudia leans over the makeshift incubator. The light bulbs shine warmly on the white shells. The reflected light is a little harsh on her eyes, but they remain fixed on the eggs.

It might just be her imagination, but she can almost hear a faint rubbing, as if some tiny beak is rubbing against the inside of a shell...

Can you really make it?

She speaks quietly, barely over a whisper.

She hopes her mother didn't hear.

Hey, let's get you outside. You guys need sunlight, you know?

(Clamorous cheeps)

If you don't, your bones and feathers won't harden, and that'll be really bad!

(Raucous chirping)

Alright, alright, come along...

Claudia steps out into the field, turning her head back every few steps. With flapping wings, the little fowlbeasts follow her, automatically arranging themselves into a line.

Good, good, just like that.

The sun's just right. Can't have too much direct sunlight, you'll get dehydrated.

(Curious chirps)

Hey! Keep away from there! I saw a feral cloudbeast a couple days ago!

This way, c'mon c'mon—

Oh—

Mom!

I'm fine.

Imprinting, huh...?

Yeah, they treat me like their mother.

I think... This has happened before, hasn't it?

You were still very young, basically still a chick yourself, but you had two little fowlbeasts clinging to your tail.

Right, I was eight, during that trip to Rim Billiton with you and Dad.

I was the one who found the eggs that time. I wanted to learn how a mother fowlbeast would incubate them, and you taught me how to build an incubator.

I still remember how our tent had a hole in it, and Dad let me help out with patching it.

I was inside the tent helping hold the hole shut when the little fowlbeasts—seeing I couldn't move—hopped onto my arm and out the hole...

Then you started screaming, nearly gave your dad a heart attack, haha.

I was just worried about the dangers they might run into out there...