Exactly one week after the first night he had slept in the sack, his wings became too obvious to hide. When he sat down to breakfast that morning, his uncle snapped, “Don’t slouch like that. Look how you’re hunching your shoulders.”

Justin tried sitting up straighter, but he couldn’t hide the lumps on his back.

“Take off your shirt,” said his uncle, narrowing his eyes.

Slowly, nervously, Justin did as he was told.

“Turn around.”

Again, Justin obeyed. He heard a sharp intake of breath, then a long silence. Finally his uncle said, “Come here, boy.”

Turning to face him, Justin shook his head.

His uncle scowled. “I said, come here.”

Justin backed away instead. His uncle lurched from the table, snatching at a knife as he did.

Justin turned and ran, pounding up the stairway to his room. He paused at the door, then went past it, to the attic stairs. At the top he closed the door behind him and locked it.

A moment later he heard his uncle roaring on the other side of it. For one foolish moment Justin hoped he would be safe here. Then the door shuddered as his uncle threw himself against it. Justin knew it would take only seconds for the man to break through.

He backed away.

Another slam, another, and the door splintered into the room. Stepping through, Uncle Rafe roared, “Come here, you little heathen!”

Shaking his head, mute with fear, Justin backed away, moving step-by-step down the length of the attic, until he reached the wall and the small window at the far end. His uncle matched his pace, confident in his control.

Justin knew that once Uncle Rafe had him, the wings would be gone, ripped from his shoulders. Pressing himself against the wall, letting all his fear show on his face, he groped behind him until he found the window latch. With his thumb, he pulled it open, then began to slide the window up. It hadn’t gone more than half an inch before his uncle realized what he was doing and rushed forward to grab him.

“Don’t!” cried Justin, holding out his hands.

The wings trembled at his shoulders, and he could feel some strange power move out from them. His uncle continued toward him, but slowly now, as if in a dream. Moving slowly himself, Justin turned and opened the window.

He glanced behind him. His uncle’s slow charge continued.

Taking a deep breath, Justin stepped out.

He fell, but only for a moment. Suddenly the wings that had hung so limp and useless for the past few days snapped out from his shoulders, caught the air, slowed his fall.