Sighing, Lerra squats on the edge of the massive tree.
Her sister had teased her for her fear of heights, an odd thing to have when one specializes in jumping. Perhaps it was her experience that had showed her that there was a reason to be fearful.
For a short minute Lerra gruesomely imagined her missing the leap, falling with a terrified scream until gravity followed through with its promise. She knew the scream would stop then, her body not found for weeks.
She shudders and shakes her head clear. No time for thoughts of failure. She stands, stepping back to prepare.
Feel your energy.
Focus It.
Direct it.
Breathing slows, controlled as she lowers into a sprinters stance. Leg muscles crawl with power, begging for an output. A breath is pulled in just before the body shoves its-self forward. The breath is released on the first step, and replaced on the second. On the third she launches off the tree top.
A beautiful few moments she spends ascending into the sky with a gleeful smile. This was what she loved. Why she leaped. Though it must end, as it always does, and the girl begins to fall.
Her eyes focus on the rapidly approaching branch, arms positioning to grasp it and swing herself onto its safety. She feels the power crawl under her skin towards her arms and shoulders, small sections of it staying behind to help brace her hips and spine.
Now is the time. It is within reach, close enough to grab. Fingers brush against bark, though in a moment of sheer disbelief and terror Lerra realizes that she is clasping nothing. She had missed. How could this have happened? Her hands were endlessly practiced, jumping angles and timing persistently worked to near perfection.
She thinks all of this, adrenaline leaving her mind scrambling in the moments after her failure. With a start though, she remembers the words of her trainer. “Gravity does not care how hard you have trained."
Forcing a breath, she redirects her power, distributing it to all of her bones and her arm and leg muscles. Energy crawls, almost too slow, just reaching its intended areas as she slams with a radiating thud into the trunk of the tree. Though magic may protect her bones, it does nothing for the pain of the impact and she lets out a screaming expletive.
Forearms and knees squeeze desperately onto the bark, doing all in their power to stop the body from falling. The decent is going to suck, she thinks with a sigh, best get on with it.
