Excerpt: Sigh for the Wind

Damn it, damn it, damn it! That was a lucky shot that French moron took! He went right through my hydraulic system and now pierced the left wing’s piston, tearing it apart. Stupid Catherine for not replacing it sooner! Ramiel had been giving me signs that it was weakening yet I didn’t listen. It must feel so betrayed and hurt by this. I had to seek forgiveness for my mistake. One bullet should not be able to cripple me. It would take an artillery shell at least to take my lovely ornithopter out. Father built it so that it would fly well and fly true not so that some upstart would shoot it down like a game bird.
I had to land. Base was coming up close and by the sound of rumours this morning, the new British engineer and mechanic would be coming. I wonder if command had specifically transferred him here to help with the Ramiel. It must have been the reason since all of the mechanics just scratched their heads when they saw it. It was rather amusing to watch the look on their faces.
Ramiel keened desperately. I stopped all my thought processes. They could easily wait until I was back on the ground. The controls were tight in my hands but I wrestled with them, giving my lovely angel strict orders to not give up. The hydraulics hummed with steam all around me as it rushed to all the areas that needed them. The left wing flapped as best as it could. It flapped as best as it could, gathering some speed and retreating. I had dropped my payload of bombs anyway.
A small shell zoomed right at me. I curled up in a ball as it hit, refusing to let go of the controls. Shrapnel tore right through the body of Ramiel, exploding spectacularly in a ball of flame and spreading embers out all over. They landed on the wooden beams that made up the body of the ornithopter. The fire found food and began to eat and grow, spreading out like a parasite. Ramiel was burning.
I was bleeding too, although I was more worried for my wings. Fire had taken hold of the light wooden body and was burning. The wings were not completely shot. I turned as quickly as I possibly could and flew back out of the battle zone. Beneath me, German troops clashed with British and French, not looking up at the burning rain hitting them.
I staggered back to base, fire all around me. A scream came out of my mouth involuntarily as the fire caught some of my clothes. I focused on father’s face and what he taught me to do. Concentrate on the air beneath your wings Catherine, concentrate on the air. I turned Ramiel, hearing the crunching sounds beneath my feet that sounded suspiciously like the mirrors in my periscope. I never really knew how I managed to navigate back to base. Perhaps it was simply dumb luck or even fate that I survived that shell.
The landing gear was down. I could feel the gears grinding away beneath me as they released them. The fire had spread to the tail. I landed hard on the ground, shattering the remains of the left wing. The ornithopter leaned to one side. Self-preservation took hold of me. I leapt out of the cockpit as Ramiel ground to a complete stop. Ground crew and soldiers set about extinguishing the flame as best as they could. I rolled on the ground, trying to kill the flame feeding off my arm.
It died away but the pain was still there. My arm was also bent at a sickening angle. I looked back at my lovely ornithopter, looking for any sign of how bad the damage was. Much of the body has been corroded away by flame, exposing the engine and its nest of fireproof blankets. It was safe and undamaged. Good. Yet Ramiel crashed into the ground hard. All I could do was lie there.
Eventually a young, friendly face that I recognised immediately leaned over me. At the same time, I felt several pairs of hands pick me up and carry me somewhere, presumably to the awful field hospital. To think I would have to spend time there...it could not be helped. But I was determined to arrive conscious and not screaming pathetically in pain. My injuries weren’t as bad compared to the soldiers back in the trenches. I would completely recover.
I turned my head to the side. A youngish man, probably no older than twenty two was running towards the ornithopter, a brand new blue coat on him. He was new around here. Otherwise I would have noticed that fuzzy brown hair anywhere.
“Feathers, who’s that?” I asked the boy who was carrying me.
“The British engineer. He’s just recently arrived. Don’t worry fräulein Catherine, he’ll fix Ramiel for you,” he replied, chipper as ever. In my pain, I grinned.
“Awesome,”