I found the camp next to the destroyed mill. The tents were lit up like a festival, the dark cloth glowing from within and yet more lights bobbing around in the night. The mobile lanterns threatened to obscure the tents' pattern, but I recognized the glyph of protection they formed; a channel for the magic that protected the Gitano camp. The same glyph Nuada wove into the tapestry he'd left my mother.
'Not that either's done much good.' The tents closest to the river had collapsed, their guylines swept away by the rising water before the dam collapsed. 'At least they're camped above the dam.'
The destruction — as much as I could see in the intermittent lights — was horrific, if you cared about the Flightless's structures. The dam looked like a massive foot had kicked it in, shattering the wood and releasing the water. Among the ruins, the spillway's earthen wall had washed away, and the wheel it powered had fallen to its side. The millhouse might be intact, though the debris caught on the upriver corner hinted it wasn't unscathed.
'Regardless, it isn't a safe place to roost.' I labored to stay aloft while craning my neck to peer at the child dangling from my talons. His eyes were closed — they didn't reflect the lightning — but the wash of rain obscured everything else. I wanted to turn back, to seek the warm, if pungent, byre. 'Even if it's still there, I have nothing to offer a child. He has to go back to his people.'
I angled my wings to carry us down to the camp. The moving lights resolved themselves into adults — Gitano — running through the rain, securing tents. From their distorted cries, they might also be searching for a stray.
Unwilling to land amid the tents, I planned to come to rest just inside the outer ring. 'Close enough for them to get the child. Far enough that it'll be a simple thing to escape.'
A wingspan — a horned owl wingspan — from the camp's edge, the feathers at my nape rose. It felt like lightning spawning nearby, but not quite, and grew stronger by the heartbeat. Too late, I realized the glyph wasn't as useless as I'd imagined; there was a protective barrier around the camp. I arched, slamming into it, and hoped that my body had shielded the child enough as the night closed around me.
♫♪♫♪
I woke screaming. The high, whistling shriek spurred me into action, and I beat my wings, flapping upright. My talons sank into the strange material underneath me, snagging as I tried to walk, and I screamed again. I beat my wings, ripped my talons free, and tried to reach the sky.
Something blocked my flight, keeping me trapped within this space. I shrieked, sinking my talons into the ground and ripping strips out to show
A Flightless entered, giving me a glimpse of the sky before shutting it away.
I lurched at him, hissing when my talons tangled in the material, tripping me. Flaring my wings, I fought for balance.
Strange noises came from his mouth; they were nothing like the rain that I could hear, but not feel.
"Hush, little one. It's safe now."
My wings beat, filling most of this strange, skyless space, and a dark satisfaction rose within my chest as he dodged to the side.
"Little one, please! There is no need for this. Shift back."
Cautiously, I dragged my feet clear of the shredded material, following the Flightless's steps.
"Perhaps some food?" He looked behind me, holding out a featherless wing, and a rabbit flew over my head.
With another shriek, I pivoted, turning to face the Flightless that had snuck up on me. The ground betrayed my talons again, tangling them and sending me crashing down. I thrashed, fighting to free myself, and screamed again as more of the material tangled my feet.
"No help for it…"
An enveloping blackness swallowed me, pinning my wings and preventing me from thrashing.
"Do you think she realizes…"
My breath was harsh in my beak, and the darkness encroached on my mind.
"No…"
"Send a messenger… Nuada knows…"
♫♪♫♪
My talons gripped my wooden perch. Grip. Release. Grip. Release. The sky was lost, and something loomed close above, restricting me. I could not fly here.
The Flightless returned, his entrance allowing a hint of the rain-filled sky before he sealed it away. He began making his noises again. He held the rabbit in his hands.
Limp. Stinking of Flightless.
I hissed, then shrieked when he tried to give me the carcass. I beat at him with my wings. Their gold accents flashed, reflecting the light of the not sun that hovered in the not sky.
He danced out of reach, leaving me to rock on my perch. The bits of dead beast that tethered me shifted with me, rasping against my leg feathers.
Grip. Release. Grip. Release.
The Flightless eased close again, making soft prey noises.
I gnashed my beak, but couldn't reach him without leaving the perch. And the dead-beast-bits kept me from leaving the perch. Not for long, though. I'd almost bitten through one already. It wouldn't hold if I lunged. The other would, though, and leave me dangling and thrashing again. So I bided my time, waiting until the Flightless was gone and I could resume my work.
A golden disk that was not the sun wove before my eyes. They grew heavy. Sleep… sleep…
When I woke, fresh bits of dead beast tethered me, and the rain still beat where I couldn't reach it.