Total pages in book: 132
Estimated words: 126358 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 632(@200wpm)___ 505(@250wpm)___ 421(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 126358 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 632(@200wpm)___ 505(@250wpm)___ 421(@300wpm)
The Flight Simulator—or “Woody” as the cadets had nicknamed it—was a wooden dragon mounted on a huge gimble and hung from the ceiling on multiple ropes. Thanks to its many cleverly carved joints, it could dive and spin and flap its “wings” just like a real dragon, mimicking any maneuver a rider might experience in battle.
Woody was mounted in a huge cavern on the fourth level of the Academy, across from the Flight Terraces where dragons and riders took off when they went flying. The controls were located on the observation balcony, twenty feet above. That was where Professor Leesbruck watched our performances and caused Woody to bob and weave while we did our best to hang on.
If we couldn’t, though, there was always the net. It was strung ten feet below the massive wooden dragon and would catch anyone who fell off Woody during a difficult ride.
I quickly learned to run lightly across the narrow wooden balance beam between the wooden deck and Woody’s saddle, rather than edging my way across, while staring nervously down at the net swaying below.
“You have to go quick,” Leaper advised me. “If you go too slow, you could lose your nerve or your balance or both!”
My main problem when riding Woody was that I wasn’t strong enough to hold on as tightly as I wanted to. Worse, if I fell off into the net, I had a terrible time climbing back to the wooden platform above. There was no ladder—only a rope with knots at intervals which had to be climbed.
The first time I tried to climb it I realized a terrible truth—I had almost no upper body strength. At least, not compared with the other cadets. Even the plump and awkward Toady could make his way back up faster than I could and my arms ached for hours afterwards.
I knew I needed to get better at riding Woody if I was ever going to manage riding a real dragon—assuming that one would have me—but I fell off over and over. Much to my chagrin, Professor Leesbruck began using me as an example of what not to do. It seemed that though I was doing very well academically, physically the other cadets were leaving me in the dust. I had to get better—stronger…but how?
It was a problem I didn’t have an answer to and it worried me a lot.
After an hour on the Flight Simulator, I returned to my Second-year classes and had Dragon Husbandry and then The Ethics of Command—a class I seriously doubted I would ever use. Who would want to follow a scrawny runt who was smaller than any other cadet into battle? Still, I did my best, throwing myself into the Academy curriculum and learning how to manage a Wing, as well as advanced command decisions, which I was certain I would never have to make.
After my last class, the Great Bell rang for dinner—my favorite meal of the day because I could be sure of getting a bowl of Dragon Custard for dessert. I still shared it with my friends, but I savored that single spoonful of the silky-sweet custard and looked forward to it every day.
Following dinner, the First-years went back to their dorms, while the upperclassmen had time to go flying and bonding with their dragons. Once bonded to a human, a dragon will suffer if it doesn’t get to see its rider every day—so I learned in Dragon Husbandry. This bonding time was extremely important, and nothing was allowed to infringe on it.
I wondered if I would have a dragon to spend time with in the future…or if all the eggs would refuse me because the drakelings inside could smell that I was female instead of male. I wouldn’t know until the eggs that had been laid by the Head Master’s turquoise Gold-wing dragon hardened enough to be approached, which was still some time away.
After the First-years went back to our dorms, we all had to go for our daily bathing time in the Cook-pot. I still felt shy and vulnerable, but I no longer worried so much about being naked around the other cadets. I did keep my towels on right until I slipped into the steaming water and I made sure to get out before the Second-year cadets arrived, though—there was no point in pressing my luck.
Several times, I saw Ryse Skoren looking at me again, but I was always already wrapped up and heading back to the dorm by the time he came to the Cook-pot. So there was nothing for him to see but a scrawny First-year cadet swathed in towels.
I liked my routine. Though my daily fights with Woody, the Flight Simulator, were humiliating, I had the sense that I was slowly getting better. I excelled in everything else, and I was making straight A’s, even in my most difficult subjects.