She looked up through salt-stained eyelashes, her face soaked with sea-spray tears. Her sodden wings no longer seemed to function, full of holes and screaming with pain. She stretched them gingerly and cringed. Her time spent in the cage made them used to inaction and it hurt to move them from the folded position on her back.

Gingerly she stood. Nude, she looked somewhat like a nymph. Her hair streamed down her back to brush the base of her spine in a golden waterfall. At least it did when dry, she thought to herself, ringing out the sodden, tangled mass. Her wings were evidently not the only thing suffering from exposure to the sea. She looked down at water wrinkled hands and toes and relished the feel of the hot sand beneath her feet, even if it burned them a little.

Well, her wings were not functioning, so she would just have to walk. Gingerly she took a step in the sands, getting used to being without the constant pounding of the surf upon her body. It was odd how much her body craved it when away from the caressing currents. Even though it felt good in a way to have solid ground under her feet again, the ocean represented the ultimate freedom and sensuality. She could swim for hours and get much farther than if she’d walked the same amount of time. Of course, she was a very good swimmer. The only thing she didn’t like about the ocean was what it did to her wings.

Thinking of her wings again, the young woman stopped to push a few feathers back into place. It hurt to do that, but felt better once she was done. Still, having been in the cadge for so long a bone-deep hurt continued to throb in them. Well it would fade soon, she hoped. The ache wasn’t as bad as before she plunged into the sea, but the holes in them made up for it. Well now she was out and didn’t plan to go back in for a while, so those would have a chance to heal.

The winged girl walked up the beach, away from the water and into shade of the trees. Here it was green and lush and cool and the moist air on her skin felt wonderful. She stopped to drink from a dew-filled leaf before moving on, carefully avoiding thorn bushes that would offend her tender, exposed flesh. Her folded wings offered some protection but not enough to prevent some nasty scratches on her ankles and legs.

As she walked, she kept her ears open for any sign of movement. This was how she’d been caught the last few times- unaware and innocently walking towards the mountain. She loved mountains. When she’d been younger, her wings hardly arcing past her shoulder-blades and her curves as yet mere suggestions of feminine form, she’d climbed a mountain and felt the breezes and seen the beautiful yellow flowers that grew on the sides. She fell deeply in love with the mountain and the way it allowed her to see in all directions so clearly. But then others came and forced her to leave the mountain and she was distraught. That was when they placed her in the cadge.

The cadge was the one place she feared the most. True, it kept her safe from harm and her feathers stayed white and pristine. But her wings cramped and withered and she got very claustrophobic. Sometimes she would throw herself at the bars of the cadge and it would leave horrible bruises in stripes on her wings and arms. Other times she would sit in the middle of the cadge and for a moment she would think she was content. Those were the times when she forgot she ever knew anything but the cadge and could not remember anything but what she could see from within those four walls.

But every once in a while, the door rattle open just the tiniest bit and she would launch herself at the chance of freedom. She would try to fly, but her wings were wasted with idleness and she would fall to earth with a bone-jarring thud. Then she would either run or dive into the ocean and swim for the mountains. It all depended upon where the cadge had opened up to.

This time the ocean had beckoned and, having failed to fly elegantly over to the mountain, she elected to swim. When she first swam, it was awkward and hard and she made little headway. This time she had some experience and knew how to make her wings work with her arms and legs to help her move forward in the water.

And now she had made it to a place she had not been in a long time. She looked up and saw that she was now at the base of the mountain. Her weary legs trembled underneath her and she felt the pit of her stomach quiver with excitement. This was her chance!

But before she could continue, she had to rest. Her abused body could not take any more punishment for one night. So she wrapped her wings about herself, found a nice, soft patch of grass and fell asleep.

She woke in the morning to brilliant sunlight reflecting from the top of the mountain. Elated at the reminder of what was so close to her grasp, she tried to launch herself into the air and fly up to the peak. But her wings were still not strong enough and they collapsed under her weight, flinging her to the ground.

Tears sprang to her eyes. It hurt her to fall, but worse was the reminder of how weak and injured her wings were. But she would not give up on the mountain, so she picked herself up and continued her trek.

As mid-day rolled around, she came to the tree line where it was too high and rocky for large trees to take root. Here she found rolling hills of yellow and purple flowers that waved in the wind and caressed her bare calves and thighs. With a smile she romped through them, picking one or two and twining it in her now-flowing hair. Her slim body bent and flexed as gracefully as the flower stems as she danced to her own internal rhythm. She could never remember the sun being so bright or her spirits being so high. Once again she spread her wings, ready to take flight with joy.

Yet again they faltered. The holes punched in them from the ocean were healing, but they had not yet built up enough strength to bear her into the sky. Her elation dimmed and she moved on, her joy in the flowers fading as she was reminded of her pain.

Now she approached the summit and hope again fluttered in her breast. But quickly it was dashed as she saw what lay between her and the peak. A huge boulder field blocked her way with gigantic, bare rocks with jagged edges just waiting for beautiful, bare flesh to scar itself upon it. Here she almost balked, but she looked up at the noon-day sun and knew she had to cross the rocks quickly if she wanted to be able to see the sea by daylight.

So it was with a few misgivings that she tackled the ascension. If she’d known how painful it truly was going to be, she would never have started. Indeed, the first thing she did was slit her palm open on one of the jagged rocks. She had nothing to bind it closed with, so she pressed on, leaving red smears on the slate behind her. Her hand was not the last thing she cut. The rocks were igneous and easily chipped along flat edges. Slivers found their way into her feet and hands and caught at her knees and elbows when she fell or had to pry herself up an especially difficult gap. Little briar bushes that managed to grow between the rocks snagged at her arms, legs and torso and tangled in her wings. Bugs swarmed at her face and near her cut hand where blood was still trickling. She was getting weaker and weaker by the step and the top didn’t seem any closer. But she would not let this stop her. No, she had to make it. She had to reach the top.

It was just as the sun was starting to send off colors into the sky as it settled lower on the horizon and the darkening sky was starting to reflect upon the girl’s mood that she realized there were only three more rocks for her to surmount. With renewed vigor, she heaved herself upwards. With a gasp and a scramble of limbs, she made it to the summit.

She stood up, nude, her slim, strong figure outlined in sunset gold at the top of the mountain. The sweet, salty air rushed up to blow back her hair and snatch at the flowers in it. It filled her wings and she felt a surge of elation. Now was the time.

Arching her back, closing her eyes and opening her arms, she breathed in the warmth and strength of the sunset. Then she took a deep breath, spread her wings and called to the heavens.

“My name is Love!”

She spread her wings and, eyes still closed, leaped from the peak.