Page 85 of Tailwind

Cam reached down, grabbed my hands and threw herself backwards, hauling me up from the ground. Her roar of effort echoed around the cave. The habit had started when we were kids, even though she’d been twice my size. Behind me, I felt a patch of warmth where Orai’s nose pushed against my back. I let their effort work and stood, brushing the dust off.

‘You’ve packed the meat on. Damn!’ Cam whacked me on the arm, combining the closest thing she had to a compliment with the closest thing to a hug she was capable of.

I shrugged it off. ‘I’ve been working out.’

A nod of approval is all I got before she gave Orai a pat on the nose and led us home. Out through the twisting tunnel that protected the aviary from being noticed. Along the lip of the cliff back towards the populated edges of the village. Before long the dry shin-height grass gave way to a sandy path that dipped downwards. The cliffs gave way to shallower bluffs, allowing the path to switch back on itself and lead us down to the first buildings that made up the outskirts.

It had looked like a strange place for Cam to live, at first. A quaint little village in the coastal bluffs where the average age was over sixty. When you factored in the secret wyvern breeding and racing though, it started to make more sense. Away from the prying eyes of too many neighbours of the big city, she was able to lead her more unusual and less legal lifestyle in relative peace. The truth was she couldn’t afford a place in the city anyway. Not when she’d started out with her underground racing. Now though she’d have had to answer a lot of inconvenient questions like ‘Where did you get all that money?’ and ‘Why do you always pay in cash?’ and ‘Is that a wyvern egg in your bedroom?’

So, instead, the small sleepy suburb had become a hub for Cam and her plethora of friends. The lime-washed buildings were simple, clustered together against the wind with a few streets weaving between them. From the edge of the hill that sheltered it I could see the tall towers of Darbonne in the distance, hugging the coastline further down towards the ocean.

There was also easy access to the natural caves and tunnels that riddled the local cliffs. Handy for secretly hosting a pack of racing wyverns.

We reached the impossibly cute cottage. Colourful plants grew up the side, pretty flowers lined the beds by the fence that sectioned off the tiny garden from the neighbours. Cam had told me the names of the flowers before, but then – just like now – I didn’t retain any information that wasn’t necessary for racing.

That was going to have to change.

The smell of Lynk’s cooking wafted out of the open window. When Cam pushed open the unlocked front door the noise from the cast reached my ears.

‘Another great weekend for racing! The shining coast of the Crescent is packed with thousands of fans ready for the penultimate race of the season.’

My feet stopped working at the precipice of the house. Trea and Lynk looked up, tension in their shoulders, until they saw who it was.

‘Come on.’ Cam grabbed the crook of my arm and dragged me in, shutting the door behind me.

The house immediately opened up into the kitchen. A large table had been crammed in, as well as the chairs and stools that surrounded it, giving it a cosy feel. It was only the four of us present, which I was grateful for. I’d seen the little house overflowing plenty of times, with the table too small to seat everyone and their partners, cousins, siblings and once even a very small old lady I’d presumed to be someone’s grandmother.

One thing that had been accommodated in the limited space was the cast screen. The sheet hung in the middle of the wall to my left, surrounded by cast prints of Cam and her crew. Mostly from parties, their hands were permanently holding bottles and glasses. Then there were the more embarrassing ones.

Me after a race with Runt, the first drake I’d raced. Cam’s arm was slung around my shoulders, the top of my head practically stuffed into her armpit. Me and Theo on a podium aged twelve: me on the top spot, him on the second. Theo’s wrists and ankles stuck out of the ends of his race suit, he’d had a growth spurt that summer that left his parents in despair for all his clothes. Despite everything Cam had kept the pictures up.

There were more of them dotted among the other loved ones in Cam’s life. It was at odds with the way she talked about our childhood. Neither of us brought up our parents unless we had to – and we’d go to great lengths before getting to that point. Yet she was more than willing to display memories on the wall of us together. Of the moments she wanted to remember.

‘You eating, Lee?’

I shuffled around the corner of the table and took a seat next to Trea, nodding vigorously to her and watching Lynk who was at the stove. ‘Absolutely.’

Cam sat on the adjacent side, facing the cast screen. It was lit up by the casting augment below it, projecting the Ballenir race live. Trea leaned back in her chair and grabbed plates from the cupboard next to her without taking her eyes from the cast. The door banged against the leg of her chair, but she was able to pull out the chipped crockery regardless.

Lynk placed the food in the middle of the table. Mismatched colourful bowls filled with rice and the promised fried fish and skewers with roasted vegetables. He’d learned over the years that there was no such thing as too much flavour, further pushing the limits of his experiments on whoever was coming through the house. It used to feel like a risk when showing up on his night to cook, but now he was the resident chef.

‘Thanks, Lynk,’ I said, heaping it all on to my plate.

I couldn’t help but notice that there was enough for far more than four people. There was also a stack of empty cups by the sink and at least one too many jackets hanging off the backs of chairs. I kept my eyes down on my food, suddenly aware of my sister’s watchful gaze from further along the table.

‘Okay, bets are open,’ said Trea, her mouth full of rice. ‘Who wins it? Who bins it?’ She pulled a fistful of cash from a pocket and slammed it on the table. ‘Ten on Lotiere winning, ten on Thorne binning and hopefully dying in a ball of flame.’

I snorted as a response. As nice as the attempt to be funny was, I wasn’t quite ready to joke about it.

‘Lotiere’s not flying, idiot. He’s injured from last week.’ Lynk shoved his own money into the pool now forming on the table. ‘So yeah, I’ll bet against you on that. Ruan wins, Thokan bins.’

‘You’re insane!’ Trea pointed at Lynk with her half-cleaned skewer. ‘There’s something seriously wrong with you if you think Thokan is going to crash.’

I couldn’t help but smile at the arguing. If there was a sound of home, this was it. I avoided looking at the cast and caught Cam instead. She rolled her eyes at me as she silently ate her meal, stuck between the bickering.

‘Not only did you not notice Lotiere was out, but you’ve clearly not noticed that the Victrolias are nearly equal on points. They’d rather sacrifice Thokan than miss out on Ruan making champion for the second time.’

Rather than reply to Lynk, Trea turned to me, eyes wide. ‘For real?’