The canyon was gigantic. It was a rip in the ground, a tear in the earth that refused to comply to the laws of nature. Instead, it built and built until she could look up from the bottom and marvel at the thin crack of sky that was offset by the tan-orange rock.
But looking down on it - Oh, what greater glory was there on this earth?
Mercy soared. In the canyon, naturally. They had agreed to stay out of the skyline, to huddle in the trench like the soldiers they were. But as her wings beat rhythmically, she relished the free-flying space. Her wings folded in, and she dived silently, her arms outstretched against the buffeting air. She dove down, down, aiming at the white blotch against the dirty walls. Landing silently, her wings pulled in and she crouched, absorbing the small impact with her knees. The shirt that prison had provided her fluttered around her thighs. The arms had already been ripped off in a skirmish, the cuts on her shoulders were scabbing up. It was dirty, dirtier than it had ever been, and she was anticipating in earnest new clothes.
"Pyrite." She walked up to him, her bare feet protesting against this new texture of ground. Her sunburnt hand was placed against his shoulder. "Breathe. They're alright." She looked down at their friends -- their family, as they soared in the hidden space. Mercy walked forward, tugging at her matted hair, to lean on the blackened branch on which Pyrite was sitting. She smiled up at him, conscious of the sun on her face and the wind on her cheeks.
((Author's note. For the time being, Mercy actually has shoulder-length hair.
http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-oLw9AMDE_kg/T ... watson.jpgAs a background, they would cut it every so often in the school, but they always kept it between ear length and mid-back)