The hill at the back of the mill was only steep enough to be useful. Edward was at the top with his glider. This one had more substantial joints, or at least that's what he believed. He'd worked on it every night all week after tea, with scrap wood and some old fabric that belonged to Elsie's uncle. It sort of looked like it might actually stay together.
He drew a breath, clutched the wooden structure, and began to run.
For a moment, or less, he sensed the lift under the wings. Enough to give him the impression that it was working.
Something changed. The left side buckled. The frame creaked. And the wing folded.
Edward landed hard on the ground. It was not the worst he had ever fallen, but it left him winded. His knee scraped against the earth and his arm, while trying to break his fall, hit a rock. He sat there for a moment, not stirring, just catching his breath.
The glider collapsed in the middle of the slope. He did not get up to retrieve it. Not immediately.
Later, he pulled the broken object back behind the shed and leaned it up against the wall. A patch of canvas flapped in the wind. One of the new joints had cracked. He didn't want to think about it.
He didn't go home, either. Not yet. He was sore and exhausted, but mostly he didn't want to have to explain the bruises.
He strolled around the village. The roads were empty. Everybody was indoors cooking lunch or getting work done. He walked without a destination, hands in the pockets of his coat, until he found himself at the outskirts of the high street.
That's where he noticed it. A small doorway between two old buildings, with a wooden sign above it that said: Library.
He hadn't been in there before. In all honesty, he hadn't even known it existed.
He entered.
The room was tiny, with shelves against the walls and a small fire crackling in the fireplace. The scent was musty but clean. Old paper, rock, perhaps ink. It wasn't elaborate, just peaceful.
Behind a desk was a girl.
She glanced up when the door groaned open. She was dark-haired, pale, with a calm, untroubled face. She didn't speak.
"Hi," said Edward hesitantly. "Do you happen to have something on flying?"
She arose and went to the back, not speaking a word. Then, after some time, she came back to the front carrying two books and put them down on the counter.
Edward grabbed them. One was on birds. The other seemed to be related to wind currents.
"Thanks," he said.
She merely nodded.
He sat in a chair by the fire and opened the book on birds. It was more complex than he anticipated, but some of it rang true. He flipped through sketches of wings and feathers, making notes here and there.
The girl — the librarian — went back to her seat. She didn't ask any questions, didn't try to talk. She just read her own book. Her presence wasn't awkward, though. If anything, it was kind of nice.
After a while, Edward said quietly, "I'm Edward."
She looked up. "Mira."
He gave a small nod and went back to reading.
An hour passed. His arm was starting to ache from the earlier fall, and he wasn't really absorbing anything anymore. He closed the book and stood up.
"I'll bring them back tomorrow."
Mira nodded again, but this time, there was the slightest hint of acknowledgment in her gaze, a subtle understanding between them.
"Thanks," he said, more sincerely this time.
She didn't smile, but her expression changed in a tiny, almost unnoticeable way. A softening, if only for an instant.
---
Outside, the afternoon was cooler. Edward walked home slowly, the books under one arm. He wasn't proud, but he wasn't angry either. Just tired.
The glider had failed. Not in a big, dramatic way. It just didn't work. That was the truth.
But now he had two books to examine,
and perhaps some better questions to ask.
That had been something.