And finally he nodded. Without a word, Coyt grabbed me by my left arm and pulled me roughly toward the edge of the porch. “Wait!” I shouted as his hand became a claw and feathers sprouted from his arms. “Her, too! Have someone take her to…my men.”
Coyt glanced back at Kaci, who now stared at us both in horror, frozen in shock and fear. No doubt she’d hoped for a calmer, more peaceful rescue, but I wasn’t going to leave her in the nest waiting for a more considerate ferry.
Coyt grabbed the nearest bird, and his voice was screechy when he spoke, pointing at Kaci. “Take the kitten down.”
The other bird nodded curtly and stomped to the far end of the long porch, where there was room to literally spread his wings. Then he took to the air, right there on the porch, rising almost to the ceiling in three powerful beats of his wings.
He dove and reached for Kaci, but she cowered away from his talons, edging toward the door.
“Kaci! He’s going to take you to Marc and Jace. Come on!”
She took a deep breath, then nodded and stepped forward, her hedging confidence based on nothing other than the fact that I’d asked her to do something. On her belief that I would never let her get hurt.
The bird seized Kaci by her arms and launched them both from the porch. Kaci screamed the whole way down.
I didn’t wait to see them land. Instead, I turned to Coyt. “There’s one more thing. Cats hunt mostly with their ears, and I won’t be able to find them with your entire Flight stomping through the woods. I need you to call them off so I can hear Lance and Wren.”
He frowned. “We will not stop looking for Brynn’s daughter.”
I shrugged and stared up at him, trying to convey competence and confidence in my gaze. “Well, you won’t find her, either. I’m your best bet at getting Wren back alive, so you either call your people off or get ready for another funeral. Which will it be?”
Coyt’s frown spread into a hard scowl as he considered. It took him three long seconds—more wasted time—to make up his mind. “I will call them back.”
“Good.” I raised my arms, ready to be flown. “Can you carry me on your own?” I asked, remembering that it had taken two birds to safely balance my weight before.
Coyt shrugged and spread his wings. “Down is easier than up.”
Not exactly confidence-inspiring…
But before I could protest, he lifted himself into the air and grabbed my arms in both talons. An instant later we were in the air, my hair whipping around my face and neck, my arms bruised by his fierce grip.
We fell more than we flew, and Coyt used his massive wings like a glider, slowing our descent and directing us toward the tree line. Several terrifying seconds later, he dropped me two feet from the ground, then thumped to the earth behind me, already half-human.
I glanced back to see Kaci clinging to Jace in the middle of the road, and Marc racing toward me in the last rays of the scarlet sun. He may have been pissed, but he wouldn’t let me hunt alone.
I ducked into the trees and veered sharply to the left of the path the human-form birds were stomping, to keep from getting trampled. My clothes hit the ground, and I shivered—nudity in February is rarely fun—then dropped to the ground on all fours, glad I’d taken the time to fully heal my right arm. I was halfway through my Shift—groaning over the popping in my joints—when Marc dropped to the ground next to me, already nude.
I’m a faster Shifter than he is, and I already had a head start, so when I rose in my newly feline form, I rubbed my cheek against his flank in greeting, then bounded off into the woods, on alert for the sound of rushed footsteps, or Wren crying.
Unfortunately, the woods were alive with footsteps. Human-form birds crashed through the forest all around me, and I couldn’t distinguish one loud, ungainly set of feet from another. And if Wren was crying or calling for her mother, I couldn’t hear her over the stampede in progress.
Damn it, Coyt!
I sat back on my haunches and was about to give as loud a roar as I could manage, when an unearthly screech ripped through the night. My feline ears were much more sensitive than the human version, so Coyt’s appeal to his fellow birds was like fingernails raked down the chalkboard of my sanity.
Whining, I lowered my head to the earth and covered it with my paws until the sound stopped. When I rose, the footsteps were still there, but now they were crashing in the opposite direction: toward the road where Jace waited with Kaci.
When most of the birds had gone, I ventured forward silently, on alert for any movement around me. The sun had finally sunk below the horizon while I was Shifting, but the residual light reflected in the sky was more than enough for me to see by in feline form.
As I walked, I classified each sound as my ears picked it up. The scurry of some small animal through the underbrush. A rabbit? They don’t hibernate. Wind rattling the skeletal branches of the deciduous trees sprinkled among the pines. The distant chatter and screech of dozens of scared, angry thunderbirds.
Marc joined me several minutes into my search, his approach even closer to true silence than my own. Together we walked and listened.
I was just about to point him in another direction—we could cover more ground if we split up—when an avian screech speared my brain. I froze, and Marc went stiff at my side. The screech was too loud to have come from the birds presumably gathered in the road.
Wren. It had to be, unless one of the thunderbirds hadn’t heeded Coyt’s call.
I whined softly, then tossed my head in the direction the sound had come from. Marc nodded, and we took off together.
Coyt glanced back at Kaci, who now stared at us both in horror, frozen in shock and fear. No doubt she’d hoped for a calmer, more peaceful rescue, but I wasn’t going to leave her in the nest waiting for a more considerate ferry.
Coyt grabbed the nearest bird, and his voice was screechy when he spoke, pointing at Kaci. “Take the kitten down.”
The other bird nodded curtly and stomped to the far end of the long porch, where there was room to literally spread his wings. Then he took to the air, right there on the porch, rising almost to the ceiling in three powerful beats of his wings.
He dove and reached for Kaci, but she cowered away from his talons, edging toward the door.
“Kaci! He’s going to take you to Marc and Jace. Come on!”
She took a deep breath, then nodded and stepped forward, her hedging confidence based on nothing other than the fact that I’d asked her to do something. On her belief that I would never let her get hurt.
The bird seized Kaci by her arms and launched them both from the porch. Kaci screamed the whole way down.
I didn’t wait to see them land. Instead, I turned to Coyt. “There’s one more thing. Cats hunt mostly with their ears, and I won’t be able to find them with your entire Flight stomping through the woods. I need you to call them off so I can hear Lance and Wren.”
He frowned. “We will not stop looking for Brynn’s daughter.”
I shrugged and stared up at him, trying to convey competence and confidence in my gaze. “Well, you won’t find her, either. I’m your best bet at getting Wren back alive, so you either call your people off or get ready for another funeral. Which will it be?”
Coyt’s frown spread into a hard scowl as he considered. It took him three long seconds—more wasted time—to make up his mind. “I will call them back.”
“Good.” I raised my arms, ready to be flown. “Can you carry me on your own?” I asked, remembering that it had taken two birds to safely balance my weight before.
Coyt shrugged and spread his wings. “Down is easier than up.”
Not exactly confidence-inspiring…
But before I could protest, he lifted himself into the air and grabbed my arms in both talons. An instant later we were in the air, my hair whipping around my face and neck, my arms bruised by his fierce grip.
We fell more than we flew, and Coyt used his massive wings like a glider, slowing our descent and directing us toward the tree line. Several terrifying seconds later, he dropped me two feet from the ground, then thumped to the earth behind me, already half-human.
I glanced back to see Kaci clinging to Jace in the middle of the road, and Marc racing toward me in the last rays of the scarlet sun. He may have been pissed, but he wouldn’t let me hunt alone.
I ducked into the trees and veered sharply to the left of the path the human-form birds were stomping, to keep from getting trampled. My clothes hit the ground, and I shivered—nudity in February is rarely fun—then dropped to the ground on all fours, glad I’d taken the time to fully heal my right arm. I was halfway through my Shift—groaning over the popping in my joints—when Marc dropped to the ground next to me, already nude.
I’m a faster Shifter than he is, and I already had a head start, so when I rose in my newly feline form, I rubbed my cheek against his flank in greeting, then bounded off into the woods, on alert for the sound of rushed footsteps, or Wren crying.
Unfortunately, the woods were alive with footsteps. Human-form birds crashed through the forest all around me, and I couldn’t distinguish one loud, ungainly set of feet from another. And if Wren was crying or calling for her mother, I couldn’t hear her over the stampede in progress.
Damn it, Coyt!
I sat back on my haunches and was about to give as loud a roar as I could manage, when an unearthly screech ripped through the night. My feline ears were much more sensitive than the human version, so Coyt’s appeal to his fellow birds was like fingernails raked down the chalkboard of my sanity.
Whining, I lowered my head to the earth and covered it with my paws until the sound stopped. When I rose, the footsteps were still there, but now they were crashing in the opposite direction: toward the road where Jace waited with Kaci.
When most of the birds had gone, I ventured forward silently, on alert for any movement around me. The sun had finally sunk below the horizon while I was Shifting, but the residual light reflected in the sky was more than enough for me to see by in feline form.
As I walked, I classified each sound as my ears picked it up. The scurry of some small animal through the underbrush. A rabbit? They don’t hibernate. Wind rattling the skeletal branches of the deciduous trees sprinkled among the pines. The distant chatter and screech of dozens of scared, angry thunderbirds.
Marc joined me several minutes into my search, his approach even closer to true silence than my own. Together we walked and listened.
I was just about to point him in another direction—we could cover more ground if we split up—when an avian screech speared my brain. I froze, and Marc went stiff at my side. The screech was too loud to have come from the birds presumably gathered in the road.
Wren. It had to be, unless one of the thunderbirds hadn’t heeded Coyt’s call.
I whined softly, then tossed my head in the direction the sound had come from. Marc nodded, and we took off together.
