Short update today, sorry... this should have been part of last Friday's but I messed up. 

~~~

I sprint down the path, legs churning, but my head’s a little woozy from hanging upside down, and my full-out run turns into a quick stagger. I can hear a horse’s hoofbeats approaching, and an arm pulls me up into a saddle effortlessly. It’s Fehnein.

“Looks like I can’t trust anyone else to do my dirty work,” he snorts, tightening his arm around my waist and turning his horse to go back to the group.

I bend over, reaching my head down to his arm, and bite his forearm as hard as I can. He yelps, his grip automatically loosening, and I tilt myself off the horse again, this time landing on my feet because I’m expecting it. I start running again, staggering down the path as fast as my legs will take me.

“Cambrie!” Fehnein barks from behind me, and I hear a slight twang, then feel a sharp pain just above my heart. I look down as the pain intensifies.

There’s an iron arrowhead sticking out of my chest, shimmering blood coating its tip and sides.

“No! Not in the heart--” Fehnein shouts, but it’s too late. The rush of pain catches up to me and then I’m falling, falling…

Falling. 

~~~

~Starseeker 

After the next update, I'll fill you in on the alternate ending. But this isn't the ending that has an alternate, if that makes sense. (Er, the last thing I posted was the actual update, this is just with the proper name.)

~Starseeker 

Ah, okay, I messed up. That's the first part to the alternate ending, not the real ending. So disregard when Zoey gets shot and is "falling, falling" and whatnot. Since I messed up, here's the real ending! So sorry! (Everything else before she gets shot is correct, so here's the full version.)

~~~

I sprint down the path, legs churning, but my head’s a little woozy from hanging upside down, and my full-out run turns into a quick stagger. I can hear a horse’s hoofbeats approaching, and an arm pulls me up into a saddle effortlessly. It’s Fehnein.

“Looks like I can’t trust anyone else to do my dirty work,” he snorts, tightening his arm around my waist and turning his horse to go back to the group.

I bend over, reaching my head down to his arm, and bite his forearm as hard as I can. He yelps, his grip automatically loosening, and I tilt myself off the horse again, this time landing on my feet because I’m expecting it. I start running again, staggering down the path as fast as my legs will take me.

“Cambrie!” Fehnein barks from behind me, and I hear a slight twang.

“No! Not in the heart--” Fehnein shouts. I hear him and roll to the side as best I can. Even with training, I’m not the most athletic, and the arrow hits me in the shoulder. I scream as the iron arrowhead pierces through my shoulder, the end coming to rest out the front, the feathers sticking out my back.

“Shoot!” Fehnein shouts, hearing my scream. I drop to my knees, one hand clenched to my shoulder and the arrow sticking through it, the other bracing myself on the ground I try not to collapse from the pain.

“Cambrie, what the heck!” he roars from behind me. “We don’t want her dead!”

“She’s too dangerous!” another voice argues back, and with a pang I recognize it as Cisi. I put two and two together and realize that Cambrie is Cisi-- and that she just tried to kill me.

“I don’t care!” he fires back. “She’s still Zoey and I don’t want her hurt--”

“Shut the heck up and listen!” Cisi-- Cambrie-- roars. “She’s dangerous! And that heckish blood-- look at me and tell me that she’s not a threat!”

“She won’t hurt us,” Fehnein argues. I tune him out and start to crawl, grimacing every time I use my left arm. I only get about 10 feet before I hear a third voice shout, “I don’t give a darn what you think about her! We can decide later, but right now she’s getting away!”

“Shoot!” Fehnein swears again. “I’ll get her.” He jumps off his horse and stalks towards me, eyes fixed on mine.

“Hey, Zo,” he says softly. “It’s just me.”

“Traitor,” I spit at him. His face hardens. He reaches for me, still a few feet away. And stops.

“What the heck?” someone breathes from behind me. “She’s gone?”

I hold my breath, barely daring to even breathe. I’m right in front of you, my mind screams. He’s going to find me any second--

But his eyes scan straight over where I’m kneeling, brow furrowed in confusion. “What…” he breathes.

“I told you she was dangerous,” Cambrie snaps from behind me. “If you had just listened instead of arguing, we wouldn’t be coming back to him empty handed!”

“Shut up,” Fehnein snaps back. His eyes scan over where I am once more, then he stands, running his hands through the front of his hair. He shakes his head, once, hands falling to his sides.

“Move out,” he orders. Cambrie starts to argue, but stops when he raises a hand. “Just do it,” he growls. “Those Eagles could be realizing we’re gone at any time. We can’t waste a moment. We may not have Zo-- the girl, but we still have our intel. Take what we got and move out.”

He strides back, and I risk shifting a little to watch him. He swings back onto his horse, and the others follow him mutely as he rides down the path. I dare to breathe only after they crest the hill and vanish from sight, and even then, I don’t move, not trusting my good luck,

Finally I stand, whatever adrenaline that had been coursing through me now gone, leaving me to feel the full force of the arrowhead in my shoulder. I stroked my finger over the tip of it, wincing as it jostled the shaft inside my body. But it didn’t hurt as much as it should have-- as I pull the neckline of my dress away from my shoulder, I can see that the skin around the arrowhead is no longer pink and raw, but rather normal-looking. If not for the arrowhead sticking out of my shoulder, the golden blood soaking the strap of my dress, and the pain, I would have said it was completely healed.

What should I do now? I wonder. I vaguely remember learning something about puncture wounds in my freshman year health class-- I don’t think I’m supposed to remove the arrow, since it’s stopping me from bleeding out. But could my metabolism handle it? I wonder. I decide not to risk it.

“What next?” I say out loud, speaking to whoever might be listening. Of course, there isn’t an answer, but it makes me feel a little better. “Which way, for starters. Should I try to find a town or go back to the Eagles?”

Still no answer, not that I’m expecting one; still, some sort of sign might have been nice. An arrow in the clouds, a bit of light… whatever the universe could come up with.

As if in answer, a bulge appears in the ground below me. I scramble away as it pulses, almost as if it’s alive, or as if something is pushing up from the ground below.

“What the…” I breathe. The bulge stops quivering for a second, and then, with a burst of dirt, it explodes. I shield my face, letting out a small yelp as bits of dirt and rock bounce off my hands and arms. When I lower them, a ball of light is floating gently in front of me. The ball of light from the catacombs, if I’m not mistaken, actually.

“Hey, I know you!” I say to it, and it makes a purring sound, floating forward to bump against my arm. Then it floats back, as if it wants me to pay attention to it.

“Continue,” I say to it. It rises up, once, and then down to the hole it came out of. I step carefully through the debris to the hole. It’s about the width of my calf; if I really stretched, I could have probably fit my leg in there, but nothing more. But as the light floats over the hole, it illuminates what the hole leads into.

“The catacombs,” I breathe. The light bobs up and down. “Oh, you’re brilliant!” I continue. “Feroc said they were far-reaching, right? I bet I can get back to the Aerie or anywhere else without ever having to come above ground and risking Fehnein finding me.” I shiver. “Definitely want to avoid that. Er, one problem-- there’s absolutely no way I’m going to fit into that hole. Sorry to burst your bubble, little light, but that’s not happening.”

The light bobs closer to me then away, leading me forward. I stride after it, my steps growing more confident as it leads me on, one hand clenched to my still-healing shoulder. I follow it for what seems like forever, but I know it can only be a short while. It stops at a lonely tree by the streetside. The tree is not particularly strange-looking; it’s just a tree. The bark is brown and rough and the leaves are emerald; the trunk is a little wider than my shoulders, and the branches stretch up to the sky. Even with its ordinary appearance, something about it just feels… wrong. Different. I shiver.

“What is this place?” I ask the ball of light. “Why does it feel like this?”

But the ball simply bobs up and down… and disappears into the tree trunk. I sigh and look to the skies.

“I really should be used to this stuff,” I mutter, shaking my hair out of my eyes. “Freaky shoot happens around me.” I turn back to the tree trunk, weighing my options. Follow the light into a frickin tree, or take my chances on an open road, with no destination or knowledge of where things are. I sigh, and take a step into the tree trunk. Although I should be expecting it by now, I’m still taken by surprise when the trunk is not solid, and I step right through it. I’m now standing on a narrow ledge, ringed by a solid-looking wall. The ledge is barely wide enough fpr my to put my feet on it. Beyond the ledge is a black pit, with no light in sight besides the little ball. It floats up nearer to my face, and it illuminates something in the middle of the trunk, where the ledge doesn’t reach. It’s a fireman-like pole, stretching down into the gloom and doom and who knows where. Probably the catacombs, I reflect. But who knows what’s down there.

The ball of light stays over my shoulder as I reach out and take hold of the pole with one hand, cradling the other to my chest. I wrap my leg around the pole, preparing to descend it into the darkness, but stop. I don’t think I can do this without my other hand. Gritting my teeth, I reach out my other hand and wrap it arounf the pole as well, so that only one leg is left on the ledge. I lean my weight into my hands and wrap that leg around the pole as well, leaving myself sustended by the grip og my hands and bare legs. I start to slide myself down, faster and faster as I gain confidence with the way my limbs work and how to do this life. The light stays over my shoulder as I descend into the dark. It banishes the gloom with its cheerful glow, however small it might be.

An eternity passes-- an eternity of sliding, catching myself, gripping the cold metal pole with sweaty palms and shaking knees. My dress catches on the wall behind me, and I hear the rip as I slide down. But I don’t stop to assess the samage-- how could I, when everything I have is devoted to sliding down without falling?

Slide. Catch. Slide.

Slide. Catch. Slide.

Over and over again. I thought the bottom was closer than this-- it looked that way from the hole. The light, too, shifts gently from side to side, as if it is surprised by the depth we’ve reached. When I look up, I see nothing but darkness- and when I look down, I see the same. But still I continue into the dark, because it’s all I know.

Finally, oh so finally, my legs, shaking and burning from exhaustion, hit something solid- a floor. A floor! Hardly daring to believe it, I set both feet down, but don't let go of the silver pole that has become my lifeblood. The light flutters a little closer to me, as if unsure.

"Hey, let's check this place out," I whisper to it. It bobs in place, but in agreement or disagreement, I can't tell. But it floats out a little ahead of me, casting a better light into the familiar room.

I'm standing on the opposite side of the Carapace's room, directly in front of the weapon when I turn around. The shield over the door is all the way on the far wall. I look up, expecting to see a hole and the pole, but both are gone without a trace.

"What the..." I breathe, the third time in as many minutes. I spin back around, eyes landing on the Carapace hanging on the wall. When I look, it seems to shimmer, and then a handy-looking sword is hanging in its place.

"Nice," I mutter. "Pick the thing that I'm worst at. I'll probably accidentally stab myself if I take that."

The Carapace shimmers again and is replaced with a long wooden stick, about half as tall as I am. The ends are tipped in a solid-looking iron pattern, which is elegant but functional. The entire weapon-- a quarterstaff?-- looks like it could do some solid damage, but is simple enough for me to use without being frightened of stabbing myself.

"Nice," I say under my breath again. I reach out to take it but hesitate. Feroc said not to touch anything, right? But I need a weapon, and this one seems to be the only one around. I reach out and take it. The wood is almost warm underneath my hand, and it quivers, once, before settling.

"Weird," I mutter. I snag the sheath off the wall too. It's adapted to be some crossbody leather contraption, which I puzzle through and slide on. The straps go over my shoulders-- somehow managing to avoid the arrow still lodged in my shoulder, though the pain is gone-- and between my breasts, the leather laying snugly and comfortably on my body. I tuck the staff into a couple of loops at the back of the sheath that seem designed for that very purpose.

“Very nice,” I say, turning as if I’m in front of a mirror. The quarterstaff is a little bulkier than I’m used to, but not bad, and it doesn’t restrict my movement. “Time to head out,” I say to the little ball of light. It flutters. I walk to the edge of the room and pass through the barrier easily, the breeze passing over me like a light curtain. Then I’m in the catacombs, the other balls of light flickering on to light my way. Only, they don’t light the way I came through with Feroc before-- rather, it’s a whole new passageway. This passage is lower than the one before, more… claustrophobic. The walls are dirt and full of roots instead of crumbling stone. I duck my head to fit through the entranceway. The ball of light is forced to glide behind me as the passageway narrows further. My shoulders start to scrape against the sides of the walls the longer I walk. I think I’m not going to fit any longer until the passageway suddenly tilts upwards. I follow it with my eyes, looking up the steep slope and the hard climb ahead. The ball bumps at my backside, and I sigh. Then I start walking up the slope-- crawling is a better word for it. The shaft is so narrow it seems almost not made for humans, and I realize that it probably wasn’t. Anything is possible in this world, at least.

Finally I reach the top, my head poking out into bright sunshine. To be honest, I have zero clue where I am, but I’m out of the claustrophobic passageway-- and that’s all that matters. I stretch my arms-- left and right-- then my legs, enjoying the warm sunlight. I close my eyes and tilt my head back, letting my skin soak in the sun.

But all too soon, the sun is yanked away by a shadow.

I open my eyes, frowning. And come face-to-face with a girl.

~~~

Sorry again about the mix up! That part in my document is very confusing to read, since I wrote it in a rush on the last day of NaNo and have the alternate ending as well as a future scene all there before the real ending. This is the real Tuesday update, censored for the CB.

~Starseeker 

Oh! Oh! I almost forgot about explaining the alternate ending until I saw Kitten's post! The fake ending that I posted by accident is just the first half of the alternate ending. After she gets shot and knocked out, the Renegades take her to their camp. It's set up a lot less permanently than the Aerie, and it's also more militarized. Cisi's real name is Cambrie and she's a simple foot soldier. Fehnein is a little higher up in the ranks and a master of deception. (We might see him again-- thoughts? Should I put him back in? Not as a main character but as someone Zoey brushes up against later.) The Renegades are kind of the opposite of the Eagles. They value victory and strength in battle more than compassion, and they are in league with the usurper of the throne, Fane Zul. (Er, I think that's his name. The ne lord who kicked Zoey and Sterling's dad off the throne.) The Renegades act as his mercenary soldiers; they do all of the king's shadow work, like helpful assassinations and threats. They're mostly full-grown men and women as well. Hmm, what else? Ah yes, they thrive on the curiosity trade. Let me explain. Zoey, with her golden blood, attracted Fehnein's attention as a curiosity. (Think of Burn's weirdling tower in Wings of Fire.) He was originally sent to the Eagles to take them down from the inside, and Cisi/Cambrie was sent to help him once he got a foot in. (The other fledglings are not Renegades; but they're not exactly free of their own agendas, either.) Fehnein saw Zoey and decided she was too good of an opportunity not to miss. (Somewhere in the time skip, he saw her bleed.) He and Cisi/Cambrie hatched a plan to get her to leave the Aerie. Cisi/Cambrie started faking relapses-- although her trauma is real, her fragile mind is not. Fehnein got Zoey to trust him and made her believe that the Eagles wouldn't do anything to help Cisi/Cambrie. He knew that she would come to the conclusion that Cisi/Cambrie would need to be taken out of the camp, but made Zoey think that it was her idea to bring Cisi/Cambrie out, and not his plan all along. 

Make sense? Any more questions you have about the Renegades, or what exactly happened in the alternate ending? As always, ask away!

~Starseeker 

“Shoot,” I mutter. The girl tilts her head. Her eyes are beautiful-- silvery, almost like liquid moonlight. Her skin is a pale white, a little lighter than my own, and her hair is dark brown and falls in a thick wave just below her ears. She shakes a portion of it out of her face and resumes her staring. I take a step back, and now I can see the rest of her. She’s fit and lithe, a little small in height but with a large chest. I don’t mean her bust, exactly; more like her entire torso is larger than it should be. And as she steps back, I can see why.

A pair of wings drags on the ground behind her; huge ones, like a bird’s, but larger. They’re a dark brown colour, matching her shorn brown hair, and have to be about 20 feet long. When she sees me looking, she jumps, and then they’re gone.

“Wait, where’d they go?” I ask her, curiosity overriding my fear.

She just looks at me with those eyes of hers, wide and frightened.

“I thought they were pretty,” I say softly, and she breaks out into a wide grin. Her wings shimmer back into existence, but smaller-- more manageable. She sweeps one forward and runs it across my cheek. It’s soft, like down-- because, I suppose wryly, it is down.

“Beautiful,” I say, and she grins wider. A shadow crosses the sun again, and with a thump, another girl lands in front of the other. This girl is taller, with blonde hair cut short, piercing turquoise eyes, and a scar stretching across the right side of her lips. She crosses her arms, looking threatening, and her pale yellow wings sweep behind her to rest, folded, on her back.

“What do you want,” she growls, and even with the threat lacing her words, her voice is beautiful and lilting.

“I--I’m sorry,” I stammer. “I just-- the catacombs, and her wings were beautiful, and--”

“So you wish to steal her wings?” the girl growls.

I raise my hands in front of me. “No, no, nothing like that. I mean no harm, truly. I’ll leave, I’m sorry.”

The girl whips a sword out of a sheath almost faster than I can see and points it at my throat. “I don’t believe you,” she growls. “You’re not leaving.”

“Please,” I say as she advances, sword not wavering. “I truly didn’t mean any harm, and--”

“Scythe!” a voice barks from behind me, accompanied by a wind. The blonde girl looks up, and the brown haired girl pokes her head out from behind her. I turn as best I can with a sword pointing at my throat. I know before I’ve even turned to look that there’s another winged girl behind me.

Sure enough, there is. She has the deepest blue eyes I’ve ever seen and white blonde hair cut in the same short style as the others’. Her huge pale wings match her hair as she flaps them back and forth, maintaining a space in the air just over my shoulder.

The blonde girl pointing a sword at me-- Scythe-- bows, as much as she can with a sword in her hand. “Seeker Avarice,” she says respectfully. “Do you have need of me?”
The other girl, Seeker Everie, shakes her head. “No. I have need of the Carapace.”

“The Carapace?” Scythe says in surprise, finally letting her sword drop from my throat. I sag in relief. “It’s not just a myth?”

Seeker Avarice shakes her head. “Non. And Leader Silvyre wants it. We felt its power after all these years. I’ve been tracking it, but it hasn’t stopped until now.”

“Wait, wait, hold on,” I say, raising my hands. “The Carapace? As in this thing?” I pull the quarterstaff out of the sheath on my back, and all three of the winged girls gasp.

“You wield the Carapace?” Seeker Avarice says to me, finally landing on the ground and folding her wings neatly on her back. They shrink to a more manageable size as she does so.

“Uh…  yeah?” I reply, fingering its tip nervously. “I needed a weapon and it was the only one available, but I mean, if it’s a problem…”

“It most certainly is a problem!” Seeker Avarice bites out. “You’re just a mortal-- not worthy of wielding the sacred weapon of the Elites! Give that to me.” Lightning-quick, she reaches out and tries to snatch the staff out of my hands, but it won’t budge. She tugs on it, seeming to use a lot of strength, but I only feel a slight pull on my arms. Her face nearly turns purple before she lets go, panting. Scythe looks on in amazement. I nervously switch the staff to my other hand to wipe my sweaty palm on my pants. Seeker Avarice shakes her head, then orders, “Put the staff on the ground and step away from it, ten paces.”

Not wanting to mess with such an intimidating person, I do as she says, raising my hands over my head for good measure. Eyeing me, she reaches down to pick it up. I can see the strain in her features before she finally gives up.

“Scythe!” she calls. “Pick this up.”

“Yes, Seeker!” Scythe replies, already running forward. She, too, bends down to pick up the weapon but has to stop soon, her muscles quivering with exertion.

“And you, Trainee!” Seeker Avarice says, clearly growing more desperate. “Come pick this up.”

The little brown-haired girl scampers forward nervously, looking at me once before bending down. She appears not to try hard, though, and stops pulling after just a few seconds.

Seeker Avarice throws her hands up in frustration. “And you!” she barks at me. “Pick this Carapace up, if you can.”

I step forward as the trainee steps back behind Seeker Avarice and Scythe. I bend over, preparing for a heavy weight, but the staff is light in my hands, and I heft it up easily and put it back into its sheath.

Seeker Avarice scratches her head as the trainee and Scythe gasp. “If I can’t take the Carapace back as ordered,” Seeker Avarice says slowly, “Then I guess I’ll just have to change my plans.”

She darts forward and grabs me around my waist, hefting me up easily and slinging me up until she’s holding me bridal-style.
“Whoa, hold on!” I say, grabbing at her shirt. But she ignores me and addresses the others.

“Continue with your patrol,” she orders. “And tell no-one of this.” Then she spreads her wings and launches us into the sky. I yelp and grab onto her neck, slinging my arms around her and tucking my head into her chest for dear life. Even with the ice-cold wind, the flight is a lot smoother than I was expecting. Seeker Avarice is a smooth flier and clearly experienced. I don’t dare ask her to put me down while we’re in midair, for fear that she’ll try her luck with the Carapace again and flat out drop me, so I hold on tighter to her neck. She’s nearly horizontal in the air, the world blurring around us, and I squeeze my eyes shut so I don’t get sick. Then, all at once, the world stops and Seeker Avarice lands lightly on the ground. She unceremoniously shifts her arms so that I fall out of them, but land on my feet with her hand an iron band around my arm. She begins marching me forward inexorably, despite my struggling against her. She pulls me off the balcony we’ve landed on, and I have a vague sense of being pulled down a marble hallway before reach a huge set of bronze doors. There are two more winged girls standing in front, and they snap to attention and salute to her as we stop before the doors. But Seeker Avarice ignores them and kicks open the doors with one foot, dragging me inside as the doors slam open. There’s a girl kneeling in front of the raised dais. She looks up hurriedly as Seeker Avarice and I sweep into the room.

“Seeker--” the girl starts to say, but Seeker Avarice cuts her off.

“This is more important,” she says abruptly. “The Carapace has been found.”

The kneeling girls gasps and immediately covers her mouth with her hand. Seeker Avarice shoots her a look and turns back to the person sitting on a throne on the dais, who is still blocked from my view by Seeker Avarice’s head.

“Well, where is it?” the person on the throne asks. “All I can see is some mortal girl.”

Seeker Avarice tugs me forward, roughly but not unkindly, and says, “Show her the Carapace, girl.”

But I’m too busy staring in fascination at the familiar girl sitting on the throne.

“Sterling?” I ask.