The power of flight could be transferred.

When Marisa first discovered this, she was thrilled. As far as she knew, other 'birds' could only fly themselves, the envy of other humans. Being part of the elite wasn't all it was cracked up to be. Envy was a problem. Bitterness led to hate led to violence.

Her mother had told her to hide her abilities, that others would fear and resent her. But this new ability changed everything; didn't it? Instead of hating her, she could grant that power to others. What wouldn't those stranded on the land give to be able to fly through the air, free of all encumbrance, without even the shell of a plane to separate them from the swiftly changing currents of air?

First she tried it with dolls. Raggedy Ann floated through her room like a kite. Then she tried other objects, balls, kites, even a stereo; but none of those things had will, none had a mind to choose to fly once she let go with her own mind. It would be different with a person, surely.

Fido, he of the predictable name, freaked when she mentally carried him over the yard, beyond the trees to the forest. She tried getting him used to the idea, but his fear took over, made him wail until she was sure the neighbors would discover her secret. Still, a dog wasn't cognizant enough to understand the gift she gave him. A human would be different, surely.

Betsy had always envied her flight. She had been the only 'lander' that Marisa trusted enough to tell her secret to. When they had been little, they had spent every day together, a practice they kept up as they grew older. How many times had Betsy mentioned her desire? What better gift could she give her friend than the gift of flight?

"Are you ready?" Marisa asked, the evening of the great experiment.

"Ready," said Betsy, her face flush with excitement. As she rose into the air, she spread her arms, like the wings of a bird, and soared into the heavens.

And then, Marisa let go...