“Watch!” she yells when she sees us looking her way. “Mama, watch me!” Her light brown eyes widen as she tears down the hill on long, gangly legs.

It’s always surprising to see those eyes looking back at me. They narrow at the first sign of danger, and confidently hold my gaze when she knows she’s right. When I tell her “No,” they are defiant, and when I cuddle her, they melt like honey. They take in everything, all the time.

They’re my eyes.

She looks like Fang in almost every other way. When she takes off after Star’s blur of speed, her wings trail behind her, the same color as her silky hair—a deep blue-black. Just before she crashes into Harry, he flings her a few dozen feet up in the air. Kate and Harry toss her between them, back and forth, and her wing muscles slide along her back and make her wings flutter. They’re still growing, but her primary feathers are all in now, and strong.

When she lands, her mouth twists into a familiar lopsided smirk, asking the same question it always does: Is it time yet, Mama?

I turn to the love of my life. My first love, and my last love. The love I accepted a dear friend’s sacrifice for. “Do you think…?”

Fang nods before I finish the question.

“You don’t think we’re rushing it?”

“It’s time.” He grins good-naturedly. “Like I’ve been saying for a week.”

“Phoenix!” I shout across the hilltop. “Ready for a lesson?”

Her face is maniacal with glee as she races Gazzy—now a tall, lanky fourteen-year-old—back up the slope.

When she was born, the name seemed to suit her—my little Phoenix, helping us all rise from the ashes. She’s Fifi to Total and Nudge, Ninja Nix to the boys. But I’ll let her pick her own name when she’s ready, of course.

Just as I once chose Maximum Ride.

Three

“TAKE YOUR CUES from the wind, watch for smaller birds in your path,” I repeat for the hundredth time. “And absolutely no dive-bombs without me!”

“Never, ever,” Phoenix repeats, and then proceeds to walk on her hands near the rocky edge. Gazzy cackles and tumbles forward, matching her trick for trick. While the rest of the flock hoots and hollers, cheering them on, naturally, I’m over here inventing new swear words and trying not to swallow my bottom lip.

Can you tell I’m way more nervous about my girl’s first flight than she is?

“Would you relax?” Iggy scolds me. “Did you forget how easy flying is? Besides, the kid’s got invincible DNA, so this should be no biggie. Ooof!” he groans as I elbow him in the ribs.