“You go down the same way you came up,” Brynn said from my left, and if I weren’t skeptical that a thunderbird could have a sense of humor, I’d have said she was almost grinning.
“Yeah, well, I kind of slept through that part. Wanna spell it out for me?” Another glance over the edge made my stomach pitch. “There’s an elevator, right? Or a tunnel with a zillion steps carved into the middle of the mountain. Maybe under a trapdoor in the kitchen?” I’d take a long, dark, insect-ridden tunnel over another thunderbird-powered flight any day.
That time I was sure I saw Brynn stifle a smile. She was laughing at me on the inside. I knew it.
“No elevator. No tunnel. There is only Cade and Coyt.” Brynn slapped a hand on one monstrous triceps of each of the huge cocks who’d stepped up on either side of her.
I almost choked holding back laughter at that thought.
“So, you’re Cade, and you’re Coyt?” I glanced from one impassive, craggy male face to the other, and when neither answered, I shrugged. “Doesn’t matter, I guess.” Then I shot a grin at Brynn. “Those are some big…birds you have there.”
She frowned. So much for that sense of humor. But before Brynn could reply—or I could form a sincere-sounding apology—light, scratchy footsteps echoed from inside, and a small figure raced through the open doorway on mostly avian legs.
It was the little diaper-clad girl from the nursery, long brown hair now falling down her back. “Mama, catch me!” she shouted gleefully, and her arms Shifted rapidly into a diminutive pair of wings. She flapped furiously, and managed to put nearly a foot between her tiny feet and the ground before she started to sink. Brynn’s eyes widened in alarm. Her arms shot out and she snatched the child from the air before she got near the edge of the porch, then settled her on one hip, unfazed when the small wings reformed into human arms.
Brynn was a mother! And suddenly I saw her in a completely different light.
“Listen…” I let go of the post—risking my fear that either Cade or Coyt would shove me off the porch—and turned to fully face Brynn. “I know you have no reason to trust me, but I am going to get your proof and help you avenge Finn. And I will be back for Kaci. But I need to know she’s safe here until I get back. You can understand that, right?” I smiled pointedly at the girl on her hip and resisted the urge to touch the smooth skin of her now human—and chubby—cheek. Even human mothers were testy about stuff like that.
“You’re the kitten’s mother?” Brynn asked, obviously surprised.
“No.” Damn, how old did she think I was? “Her mother’s…dead. I’m all she has right now. Is she safe here? With you?”
Brynn hesitated, then nodded, rocking her daughter gently on one hip. The child’s beak became a mouth and she stuck one thumb into it. “Of course. We wish the girl no harm. But if you fail, we will stand by our word.”
I nodded uncertainly; that was probably the best I was going to get. “Thank you.” After a deep breath and a moment to collect myself, I glanced up at Cade. Or maybe it was Coyt. “I’m ready, boys.” Though truly, I was anything but.
Without even a glance at each other, the male thunderbirds Shifted almost simultaneously and rose into the air at the exact same time. Fortunately, the porch roof was very high, no doubt to accommodate just such a takeoff.
The upside to having no luggage is that there’s nothing to accidentally drop when a giant bird swoops and grabs you by both arms, then dangles you over the earth from a height no cat was ever intended to experience.
From two hundred feet up, would I land on all four feet?
“Oh, shiiiiit!” I shouted, no more able to close my mouth than my eyes. The ground raced toward me, then the second bird grabbed my ankles in midair, halting our plummet. The birds flapped in unison, and we bobbed for a second—jarring my entire body—before soaring down again at a terrifyingly sharp angle. Three flaps later, they let go of my arms. I fell the last yard or so to land hard on my feet.
I squatted to absorb some of the impact in my knees, and to avoid falling over face-first; I couldn’t afford to catch myself with my bad arm and risk hurting it worse.
I straightened just as the flyboys landed in tandem in front of me, and though they both watched me with evident disinterest—maybe even outright disgust—neither said a word.
“Jeez, could you two hold it down? I’m getting a headache from all the witty banter.”
They only blinked.
We stood in a narrow valley between two small mountains—foothills, if I had my guess. When I turned, I saw that the nest was at one end of the valley, built on an outcropping jutting from the juncture of two hills. Behind Cade and Coyt, far beneath the nest, the gravel road ended in a huge pile of rocks, obviously fallen from the hills. Probably knocked down on purpose, to make the path to the nest inaccessible to humans. Which made choosing a direction a real no-brainer.
“So…where does this road go?” I gestured to the gravel trail leading away from the nest, and finally one of the flyboys spoke.
“North.”
“Wow. Thanks.” I squinted at them, shielding my eyes from the setting sun, and noticed that I was virtually eye to eye with both thunderbirds—they were the tallest I’d seen yet. “Could you at least tell me where we are? How am I supposed to get to Appalachia if I don’t even know which way to walk?”
“We’re in New Mexico,” said the bird on the left. His partner hadn’t even bothered to Shift his beak. “East of Alamogordo.”
“Yeah, well, I kind of slept through that part. Wanna spell it out for me?” Another glance over the edge made my stomach pitch. “There’s an elevator, right? Or a tunnel with a zillion steps carved into the middle of the mountain. Maybe under a trapdoor in the kitchen?” I’d take a long, dark, insect-ridden tunnel over another thunderbird-powered flight any day.
That time I was sure I saw Brynn stifle a smile. She was laughing at me on the inside. I knew it.
“No elevator. No tunnel. There is only Cade and Coyt.” Brynn slapped a hand on one monstrous triceps of each of the huge cocks who’d stepped up on either side of her.
I almost choked holding back laughter at that thought.
“So, you’re Cade, and you’re Coyt?” I glanced from one impassive, craggy male face to the other, and when neither answered, I shrugged. “Doesn’t matter, I guess.” Then I shot a grin at Brynn. “Those are some big…birds you have there.”
She frowned. So much for that sense of humor. But before Brynn could reply—or I could form a sincere-sounding apology—light, scratchy footsteps echoed from inside, and a small figure raced through the open doorway on mostly avian legs.
It was the little diaper-clad girl from the nursery, long brown hair now falling down her back. “Mama, catch me!” she shouted gleefully, and her arms Shifted rapidly into a diminutive pair of wings. She flapped furiously, and managed to put nearly a foot between her tiny feet and the ground before she started to sink. Brynn’s eyes widened in alarm. Her arms shot out and she snatched the child from the air before she got near the edge of the porch, then settled her on one hip, unfazed when the small wings reformed into human arms.
Brynn was a mother! And suddenly I saw her in a completely different light.
“Listen…” I let go of the post—risking my fear that either Cade or Coyt would shove me off the porch—and turned to fully face Brynn. “I know you have no reason to trust me, but I am going to get your proof and help you avenge Finn. And I will be back for Kaci. But I need to know she’s safe here until I get back. You can understand that, right?” I smiled pointedly at the girl on her hip and resisted the urge to touch the smooth skin of her now human—and chubby—cheek. Even human mothers were testy about stuff like that.
“You’re the kitten’s mother?” Brynn asked, obviously surprised.
“No.” Damn, how old did she think I was? “Her mother’s…dead. I’m all she has right now. Is she safe here? With you?”
Brynn hesitated, then nodded, rocking her daughter gently on one hip. The child’s beak became a mouth and she stuck one thumb into it. “Of course. We wish the girl no harm. But if you fail, we will stand by our word.”
I nodded uncertainly; that was probably the best I was going to get. “Thank you.” After a deep breath and a moment to collect myself, I glanced up at Cade. Or maybe it was Coyt. “I’m ready, boys.” Though truly, I was anything but.
Without even a glance at each other, the male thunderbirds Shifted almost simultaneously and rose into the air at the exact same time. Fortunately, the porch roof was very high, no doubt to accommodate just such a takeoff.
The upside to having no luggage is that there’s nothing to accidentally drop when a giant bird swoops and grabs you by both arms, then dangles you over the earth from a height no cat was ever intended to experience.
From two hundred feet up, would I land on all four feet?
“Oh, shiiiiit!” I shouted, no more able to close my mouth than my eyes. The ground raced toward me, then the second bird grabbed my ankles in midair, halting our plummet. The birds flapped in unison, and we bobbed for a second—jarring my entire body—before soaring down again at a terrifyingly sharp angle. Three flaps later, they let go of my arms. I fell the last yard or so to land hard on my feet.
I squatted to absorb some of the impact in my knees, and to avoid falling over face-first; I couldn’t afford to catch myself with my bad arm and risk hurting it worse.
I straightened just as the flyboys landed in tandem in front of me, and though they both watched me with evident disinterest—maybe even outright disgust—neither said a word.
“Jeez, could you two hold it down? I’m getting a headache from all the witty banter.”
They only blinked.
We stood in a narrow valley between two small mountains—foothills, if I had my guess. When I turned, I saw that the nest was at one end of the valley, built on an outcropping jutting from the juncture of two hills. Behind Cade and Coyt, far beneath the nest, the gravel road ended in a huge pile of rocks, obviously fallen from the hills. Probably knocked down on purpose, to make the path to the nest inaccessible to humans. Which made choosing a direction a real no-brainer.
“So…where does this road go?” I gestured to the gravel trail leading away from the nest, and finally one of the flyboys spoke.
“North.”
“Wow. Thanks.” I squinted at them, shielding my eyes from the setting sun, and noticed that I was virtually eye to eye with both thunderbirds—they were the tallest I’d seen yet. “Could you at least tell me where we are? How am I supposed to get to Appalachia if I don’t even know which way to walk?”
“We’re in New Mexico,” said the bird on the left. His partner hadn’t even bothered to Shift his beak. “East of Alamogordo.”
