Free Fledgling: Book 1 (Afterlife) by Katrina Cope Page B

demands, “Follow me.” He pushes off the ground and flies into the clouds. Ejecting off the ground and into the air, I hear Blue do the same behind me immediately after. My wings flap back and forth, and I listen to the dull whistle as the wind pushes away with each stroke. The rhythm of the sound is comforting, and at this moment I don't want to lose the sound.  
    Within moments we are in the clouds, pushing further up. I do not know where we are going. We have not been to wherever he is taking us.  
    The temperature is dropping rapidly as our wings push us up in haste. It is not long, with the speed of our wings, before I see a strange looking platform on the highest cloud. We fly directly to the platform, rising over the edge and follow our leader as he drops to land.  
    I take a look around. If I wasn’t so nervous, I am certain I would find this humorous. The area looks like the typical cliché of the angels living among the clouds. The entire place is a fluffy, white cloud finish. In different parts of the platform, there are large cloud chairs that resemble lounge chairs. They are large enough to lie on and are empty.
    We step forward following Archangel Michael. Walking on the platform is a strange feeling. It is like we are walking on the semi-firm cloud, but we do not fall through. I hear a slight rumble of an airplane underneath us.  
    Up ahead there is movement. I glance in that direction and from behind a cloud wall I see an angel step between two white cloud walls. The blue angelic gown flows softly to the feet. It is a slightly darker colour than the sky. Majestic white wings fan behind the angel’s back. I have not met any of the other archangels before. I am not sure what to expect. If they are all like Archangel Michael, then I am sure we are in for a rough time. I look apprehensively at the angel’s pale face. I cannot tell if they're male or female. The facial features are handsome, but at the same time soft and the gown is too loose to make out any defining shape of either sex. Allowing my eyes to meet theirs, I am surprised to see that the blue eyes are the colour of a welcoming crystal clear spring, rather than a hard sapphire. I begin to feel confident in my decision again, and I have an overwhelming urge to go and do something creative and express my emotions — this is not like me. I am not the creative sort.  
    Turning to look at Blue as he walks on my right, slightly behind me, I see he also has a more confident look on his face. He makes eye contact and gives me half a smile. My hopes rise. Maybe we will be okay after all.  
    As we step closer to the archangel, my drive to want to protect the innocent becomes stronger. I know that I have done all I can. The happiness settles until my thoughts pass to the perpetrators and how I don’t want to insert a conscience into them and purify their minds. The confidence starts to slip away. Guilt begins to settle in. I know what I wish to do is not abiding by their rules, but at the same time, I know that I cannot just insert a conscience into the evil ones. To have them kill themselves or go insane when they too have an innocent side is an undesirable consequence.  
    “Michael,” the blue one says. The voice is firm, but it is not masculine or feminine. Considering the position that I am in, I know that I will not be asking which gender this angel is.  
    “Yes, Gabriel,” Archangel Michael says.  
    “What is the meaning of this? Why do you bring two young fledglings to our meeting place?”
    “I have brought them to be judged by the council. They have broken the rules.” The disappointment is prominent in his voice.
    The blue eyes survey us as we approach. The softness pushes away from the eyes. “You have two in your small group that have disobeyed our instruction. Have you lost your touch? Is the warrior softening?” the gender-challenged archangel asks.
    “I have not done anything different. These two have chosen their way