We hit the water, hard. Still sideways on impact, the kayak rolled, plunging us beneath the water. It ripped me from Kit's hat, and I spun away. My wings were worse than useless, dragging me down, and the current continued to pummel me. I smashed into underwater rock, tumbling end over end until I couldn't tell which way was up.
Desperate and disoriented, I shifted to my most familiar form. As my hard body-shell became bones and feathers, my body grew and the water caught me, dragging me downstream faster into shallower water, where I could get my head clear. Gasping for air, I crashed into a rock, bruising my soft flesh in a way my carapace hadn't allowed. The water swept me past before I could grab hold. I almost caught the next one, my talons scraping the stone, but it, too, slipped away.
Then I was in the air, more or less, and falling down the next cascade.
I twisted, trying to right myself and get my wings to work. Instead, I plunged beneath the water again, smashing skull-first into the river bed. Spangles dotted my vision, and I think I fought my way back to the surface. I must have — the next thing I knew for certain was waking up on a gravel bar, gape-beaked and weak as a fledgling.
The dawn's light turned the horizon pink, and I dragged myself to my feet, craning my head and searching for sight, sound, or smell of Kit. I sneezed, clearing my nares. The morning smelled like the dead fish caught in an eddy near the bank. I sneezed again and wished I hadn't. The river gurgled around me, but Kit's distinctive paddling did not interrupt it. Mist rose undisturbed from the water; not even the falls disrupted it.
'How far downstream am I?' The cliffs were out of sight, having given way to the flat plains. My heart rate ratcheted up. 'Bones! I have to find K —'
I stilled. Sucked in a breath through my burning nares. Preened the most crooked of my feathers.
'I need a knife. So I need my pack.' I twisted, grooming my tail feathers, and a black stone caught my eye. A flat disk, it almost seemed to have glyphs etched into its face. Its edges were chipped, and it had a small hole through the top, as if it had been threaded on a necklace. 'Too bad I can't read the old writing.'
Turning away, I clacked my beak.
'Nope. Pack. Knife. Home.'
I preened the largest feathers on my left wing and dragged my eyes away from the stone again. Once my feathers were more or less straight, I tested my wings, flapping in the growing light. They worked, but protested bitterly, and my reserves, when I checked, were, if I wasn't lying, lower than ever.
'No help for it. Just don't shift, or I'll be stuck on the ground. Breakfast. Then pack.' My right foot, traitor that it was, tightened around the stone. Laboriously, I took flight, flapping into the sky with as much grace as I could manage. 'Grace hasn't ever been in my favor. Get over it.'
Once in the air, a strong wind blew away the mist, shifting it downstream like the river itself. I winged away from the river, eyes trained on the ground below. Soon enough, an early rising squirrel restored my outlook; at least I wasn't hungry. And though I'd dropped the stone when I spotted the beast, I couldn't force myself to fly on until I'd gone back and collected it again.
'This is stupid. It's a rock.' My quartz thrummed as if agreeing, and the black rock echoed it. Or my imagination was running rampant. I winged my way back to the river and circled the bank where I'd washed up. 'If I made it this far downstream before landing, would a boat have made it farther?' I drifted downstream. 'Or would it have gotten snagged upstream?' I edged back toward the cliffs, visible on the horizon from this height.
My crystal pulsed as I circled, waxing when I flew with the wind current and waning when I flew against it. I clacked my beak. 'It doesn't make much sense that Kit —' I closed my eyes and focused on the feel of the wind through my feathers. They responded stiffly, needing a more thorough preening. 'It doesn't make sense that the boat could be downriver. Wouldn't it have hung up on a snag or a rock? A sandbar? It makes more sense to backtrack to the falls. Even if I come up empty-taloned, it'll be faster than going downriver and having to come back.'
I counted the days since the new moon; once, twice, thrice. The numbers didn't change.
'Today's the last day of the harvest fair. The Quarter Moon Ceremony is tonight, and the traders disperse tomorrow.' I sighed and caught an updraft. 'Mitry might be willing to deal tomorrow, but I won't get as much if he can't count on reselling to eager farmers. And it still depends on me having something to trade.'
"Hoo-h'HOO-hoo-hoo!" 'Bones and feathers!' Fury made my wings tremble. 'There's no chance I can search the falls, find my pack, and haul my Flightless carcass to town today.'
Bitterly, I forced the realization that even if I hadn't met Kit, if I'd hiked to the cliff, dared the cliff-face in the dark, and continued without rest, I wouldn't have made it before the festival ended. 'If I hadn't broken my knife. If I hadn't killed the black beast. If I hadn't fallen to that thrice-damned fever!'
I wanted to scream. After all these years, I should know I couldn't turn back time. 'Yet every year, when the leaves fall, I wish I could —'
I ground my beak, clamping it against the emotions I wanted no part of.
Turning to the sun, I flew like demons were on my tail. The river wended through lazy curves beneath me; I cut across, skimming along beneath the sparse clouds.
'Knife. Home. Knife. Home.'
The chant kept my mind grounded against the uncertainty of how and freed my wings; I had a purpose, steps to complete, and nothing would stand in my way.
Plains turned to pastures, dotted with fat cattle. Pastures turned to fields, stubbled with the remains of this year's crop. Houses and barns — blocky structures built to keep things trapped — dotted the fields.
While fatigue weighed my wings, I savored the ache; it was so much better than yesterday's walking. And fatigue slowed my flight when the dark blot of the town blighted the horizon, defeating even the noontime sun. 'Only fatigue.'
I drifted on the air currents, echoing the river's dance, and told myself that was exhaustion, too. As the town neared, my eyes traced the riverbank, and I tried to convince myself that this, too, was caused by the tiredness that anchored my bones. The ugly, noisy fair sat like a boil on the town's edge, and I'd have to land soon or risk being seen when I shifted.
A glint of silver caught my attention, granting a convenient excuse to slow further.
'Probably the water.' I swooped lower anyway, welcoming the distraction, and let my feathers flirt with the cooler air rising off the water. The flash came again, a slip of silver dancing ahead of me, skimming the river's surface. It rounded a curve, hiding behind the scrubby brush along the bank.
'No. Not possible.' My strokes deepened, pushing my body faster. Slipping around the curve, the source came into clear view. A small boat with a silver-haired girl dipping a double-ended paddle into the river steadily. The only piece missing from the scene was the floppy-brimmed hat.
'Bones and feathers! Kit!'
Reeling, my wings lost rhythm, and I plunged downward with a startled, "hoo-hHOO!" before flapping frantically to regain control.
Kit paused mid-stroke, twisted, and waved with a cheerful, close-mouthed smile. Her silvery hair caught the sun with an almost rainbow sheen. Then she resumed paddling as if we hadn't…
'Hadn't what, exactly? What do you call this?' The rage I'd felt earlier was back, burning in my bones, and now it had an easy, external target. A tiny voice dared suggest this wasn't the girl's fault — that she'd done what she'd agreed to do. That voice died, crushed to gory bits in my talons, while I flew after Kit.
"Daru se dice!" Kit shouted over her shoulder. "We're almost to the town. That's where you were going, right? Have you already—"
I swooped in to land on the front of the kayak; my talons scrabbled against the hard, smooth surface. The black disk, still clutched in my right claws, made the landing more troublesome, and I flapped until I felt steady. I left my wings mantled; it made me look bigger and left me feeling more balanced. Turning to glare at Kit, I realized she had steadied the boat for my landing. My ire flared hotter.
"Well, you had breakfast." Kit's nose wrinkled. "Still, you must be hungry again. Do you think we should head into town to get you something more, or do you need something now?"
"Hungry?" I shouted, surprising myself with the sudden shift. "I thought you were d—mph!"
My sudden weight increase proved too much for the kayak, and the nose plunged underwater. I fell off, going under without the sense to snatch a full breath. My right hand snaked through the water, snagging the black disk as it fell. Then my hands and feet waved wildly, and I lost what little air I had when I saw Kit, still attached to the kayak by that ridiculous skirt, completely inverted. She smiled and thrust the paddle down, knocking herself into a sandbar. There, she pushed off again, popping the boat right-side-up again as my thrashing got my head above water.
"Woo!" Kit grinned. "T-thanks — I was getting a b-bit warm." Her jaw tightened to still her chattering teeth. "S-so, town?"
I slipped beneath the water, letting the liquid muffle my frustrated scream. It didn't seem to have fooled Kit, judging by her strange expression when I came up for air. Ignoring her, I splashed and wallowed into the sandbar. With a half-hearted glance around, I checked to see if anyone might have seen my unplanned shift.
'Does it matter? I can't change anything.' I flopped on my back and let the sun soak into my face. The wind brushed across my wet layers, and I shivered. 'Yes, it matters. If I know someone might suspect something, I can plan for it. I can….'
My mind refused to present a viable option. If someone found out I was a Butterfly, it'd spread through town like wildfire. Then I'd be the wildfire when the priests caught me. I swallowed.
'Pack. Done. Knife. In town — you just have to deal with Mitry. Home.' I shivered again and wished I hadn't left my Post. But that was a coward's wish, and I squashed it down. The black stone cut into my palm as my hand clenched, reminding me I still had it. 'And why's that?'
Growling, I raised the stone, peering through it. The light passed through it; it was darker than my smoky quartz, but not much more opaque.
"Guardian's tears." The name flew from my mouth without my consent. "Like my mo—" My fingers clenched around the disk, hiding it from the light.
"It's pretty." Kit had the paddle jammed into the sandbar and the kayak rocked in the current that tried to drag it along. "It looks like it has some runes."
'The glyphs? How could she see them from there?' Frowning, I sat up and stuffed the rock into my pocket.
"You wanted to get to town?" I clambered to my feet, every muscle protesting after the too-brief rest. Shivering, I waded back into the river and struck out for shore. "It's this way."