Lena looked up at the sky and sighed. Her chestnut hair waved in the wind as her blue eyes sparkled in the sunlight. Her skin was freckled, and new freckles formed as she stood there in the warm sun. Especially about her bare shoulders as she wore a halter top. It wasn't her style at all, but it was the only style of modest shirt she could wear anymore. She did have to admit she liked the flowy bit that came down over her jean-covered hips.
Her wings fluttered slightly. They were still fairly new and the skin on her back and beneath the feathers was still quite tender and bruised due the wings having formed. She wasn't born with them. Nor had they didn't develop slowly, allowing her body to adjust. She woke up one day with aches and over the weekend, she was visited by this strange man in a wheelchair. The next thing she knew, she was in a room with an IV. It wasn't really a hospital, but she was too drugged up on painkillers to care.
By Monday, they were able to wean her off and just as she barely got past the fogginess, they introduced her to the surreality of it all. She was a mutant. They were sure to exclaim that it wasn't a bad thing, but the rest of the population had an issue with it. She'd be safe here.
Still, it felt like prison.
She always daydreamed about adventure and as the realization of the fact that she could fly crept into her mind, the reality of adventure excited her. However, she was warned to take it slow. Her wings formed quickly and their muscles as well as the muscles in her back were still healing, as well as other bits like bones and skin. New nerves needed to be allowed to form connections.
But deciding that she knew her body better than anyone else, she took to flapping. It felt awkward and she couldn't seem to control her wings the way she wanted. Not to mention, the mere use of the muscles exhausted her. She let herself fall to her knees on the green lawn as her wings rested limply on her back onto the grass.