The wind shifted, carrying the familiar scent of damp hay and earth. The sky was a pale blue, cloudless, with the sun hanging low in the distance, casting long shadows over the farm. From above, I could see Cassie, her figure slightly hunched as she worked, moving from one animal pen to the next. She wore faded jeans, her boots caked with mud, and her hair was pulled back in a loose ponytail. She was focused, but not like she used to be. There was a heaviness in her movements, an invisible weight pulling her down.
I circled lower, silently, before landing on a wooden fence post. My talons gripped the weathered wood as I watched her. A goat grazed lazily behind her, the chickens scratched at the earth nearby. I hesitated before announcing my presence, unsure how she would react.
When she finally turned and saw me, she froze. Her eyes widened, and she stared for a long moment.
“Tobias,” she said softly, her voice gentle, as if talking to a wounded animal. “Is that you?”
I preened myself, embarrassed at her tone.
She hesitated, taking a small step forward before stopping again. She seemed unsure whether to come closer or stay where she was.
“I didn’t know if I’d ever see you again,” she said, her voice heavy.
I didn’t know what to say. The burning need that had driven me here now felt dim, like embers fading under the weight of her hollow stare.
“Are you doing okay?” she asked, her tone delicate, as though afraid of the answer.
Cassie lowered her eyes, one hand gripping the fence so hard her arm shook.
“Yeah,” she said quietly. “Me neither.”
I wasn’t sure what I had expected, but the weariness in her voice felt heavier than I anticipated. She turned her head slightly, but not enough to meet my eyes.
“Why did you come?” she asked after a long pause. Her voice was tired, like she wasn’t sure she wanted to know the answer.
The name felt heavy in my thought-speech. I saw Cassie flinch, just for a second. She didn’t respond immediately, her fingers still gripping the fence. Silence stretched between us, like an uncrossable canyon.
“What about Rachel?” she asked, her voice strained, as if dreading the answer but needing to hear it anyway.
Now there’s a sentence you never thought you’d say, Rachel’s voice chimed in, laughter in her words.
My head twitched involuntarily, but thankfully I couldn’t make a facial expression for Cassie to read.
“I try not to,” Cassie said, her gaze distant. I understood why. She’d been a dolphin in the river, searching for Jake’s body when the soldiers tossed him overboard—him and hundreds of others. I wished I couldn’t imagine the nightmare of it, but I could. It wasn’t the first or last time we had to sift through piles of bodies to see if our friends were alive.
“Don’t.” Her voice cut through the air, sharp and trembling. “Please don’t.”
I shifted uncomfortably, my wings fluttering as the moment grew too heavy. Cassie took a deep breath, wrapping her arms around herself like she was cold despite the heat of the day.
“Jake.” She spoke his name like it hurt. “Have you seen him lately?” Her tone wasn’t bitter, or harsh. Just empty.
“You go and talk to him. Then tell me how I saved him.” Her voice broke on the last word and she crouched down, her head in her hands. I saw tears begin to run down her cheeks. Her back rose and fell quickly as she tried to suppress her sobs. I opened my wings and tipped forward off the post, gliding the short distance to land in the mud near her feet. I looked up at her, trying to put as much sympathy as a hawk’s stare could manage.
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Maybe it was instinct—Cassie was so used to being around animals—but she reached out, brushing a finger lightly down my back. Her face tilted up just enough for me to see one of her eyes, bloodshot with grief. She watched me for a moment before she held out her arm, inviting me to climb on. I did, careful not to let my talons hurt her.
With perfect gentleness, she pulled me close to her chest, her body hunched over in the field in front of the barn. She wept, her shoulders shaking with erratic sobs. I rested my feathered head against her chin and let out a soft keen of my own.
I didn’t think you were going to make my best friend cry, the Rachel-voice chided, though it lacked any bite.
Cassie eventually composed herself enough to stand, still holding me against her chest. As she walked toward the barn, I instinctively flew up to the rafters, perching high above her. The air inside the barn was cooler, and the smell of hay, animal feed, and wood filled the space. It was so familiar, yet now, it felt like a tomb. From that vantage point, I saw how small and alone she looked.
Cassie gave me a tired smile, her eyes red and swollen.
“I never thought any of you would be in here again,” she said, looking around. Her eyes swept over the places we had each claimed as our own. The once-vibrant barn, filled with life and action, now seemed hollow, echoing only memories. The smell of hay was the same, but without us here, it felt stale. “Can’t say I really miss those days, except...” Her eyes lingered where Rachel had stood so many times before, calling us to action. For a moment, I thought I could hear her say, ‘Let’s do it!’ ringing across so many unhappy years.
I said softly.
The war had been terrifying. Since we were thirteen, we’d been hanging on by the tips of our fingers. And somehow, who I was now, where I was—it was all so much worse. Cassie stared at me, sniffling and trying to clear her nose after so many tears.
The barn felt unnaturally quiet. The soft creak of the rafters overhead was the only sound. The usual shuffling of animals and rustling hay seemed absent. Even the familiar earthy smell, mixed with the musty scent of old wood, felt heavier in the stillness.
“I miss her too,” Cassie said eventually, her voice steady now. She wiped at her eyes and sniffled again.
Silence. I had expected silence, but it wasn’t shocked silence. It was sad, full, and empty all at once.
“How?” Cassie asked eventually, her tone resigned. As if she’d decided to have this conversation despite herself.
“The Ellimist did most of the work,” she said. “And if he was going to help us out this time, I think he would have by now.”
“But the Ellimist—” she started, but I cut her off.
“I—I remember,” Cassie said, hesitant.
Cassie was quiet, staring at the ground like she was searching for something there. Anything to make sense of what I was saying. But I knew her too well. That fire—deep down, she wanted this too. Just like I did.
She let out a slow breath. “It’s different this time.”
“I don’t know if Rachel would want—” Cassie started, but I didn’t let her finish.
Despite everything, Cassie smiled at that, and I saw her wavering. Part of me wanted to push, wanted to make her believe like I believed. Like I wanted to believe, but I waited. I tried to settle, but my talons kept flexing, digging into the bales of hay. I waited as she thought. I knew she wouldn’t agree until her heart had settled on it. That was the way she’d always been.
“If we’re going to do this,” she said slowly, and it took everything in me not to cheer and whoop in thought-speech, “we’re going to need Marco… and Jake.” She said the last word like it was heavy, and I felt my excitement vanish, like a popped balloon.
“If it wasn’t for Jake,” Cassie said softly, “we would’ve lost the war. Lost everything. He saved us, as much as Rachel did.” I wanted to argue, wanted to disagree. I didn’t care about Jake. Didn’t need him. Rachel was safer if he wasn’t involved—they all were—but I couldn’t bring myself to say any of it. Cassie had named her terms, and I was more than ready to agree to them. Marco was smarter than he acted most of the time, and if we could just get him on board that would be a huge win for the mission. Jake? He didn’t matter. I’d save Rachel no matter what, even if I had to do it with the guy who got her killed in the first place.