Waking up to a headache has got to be the most miserable thing a person could ever experience. Brushing away the pebbles that clung to the side of his face, Sloan blinked away the backlashes of passing out. Speaking of which, why had he passed out? Flashes of the Djinn, his wish, and finally, of his wife being stolen away by the shadows, all rushed back.

  “Phyllis?” Sloan called out. Hoping that what he remembered was a very creative bad dream caused by stress.   “PHYLLIS?” Sloan shouted, getting up from the cold ground.

  'She’s not here.' An unknown voice called back. Sloan looked around for the source. Fairies and the fountain were the only things around him.

  “Quit screwing around!” Sloan’s eyes hurt from squinting into the darkness.

  'Over here.' The voice commanded. Sloan looked around for any sign of movement.

  “Almost…almost….” The voice hinted as he scanned the trees. “There. Right in front of you.” All that was in front of him was the carved statue standing above the fountain. There was no way. It wasn't possible.

  “And my nightmare continues.” First mystical beings and now talking fountains… what was next? Would his clothes try to strangle him?

  'His nightmare he says. Try being stuck in the same pose above the same fountain for several hundred years not being able to warn desperate morons like yourself!' The voice seemed to be coming from within his own head.

  “Yeah sorry about that.” He had nothing to really apologize for but it just felt right. “Say, if you couldn’t talk to me before how are you talking to me now?”

  'As far as I can tell we are connected by the power of the Djinn. It seems that after we are touched by his power we become connected to each other.' The statue did her best to explain. 'I'd go so far as to say by magic.'

  “That’s great. So how do we reverse it?” Sloan inquired, brushing aside the flowery words the frozen woman spoke.

  "Reverse what? Oh, the wish. It’s impossible.’ She stated flatly. Anger welled up deep inside him at the final tone the statue woman spoke in. He marched up close to the timeless face.

  “So you are telling me there is a zero percent chance of getting my wife back?” he snarled.

  'Do you think I would be stuck here if I knew of a way to break my curse? He took her to where he resides, the place that only he could travel to and from. Even if you found a way to haul him back, what exactly where you planning on doing?' She made a valid point but his blood was still singing with anger. The anger quickly fizzled out to misery. Sitting on the edge of the fountain, he allowed his head to drop into his hands.

  Stupid magic! Stupid Talent system. Stupid Richard Sloan! Stupid Mythical Being from Legend!

  With that last thought, Sloan blinked in realization, Mythical Being from Legend.

  “If it is a Being from Legend then maybe there is something I could do about it. There must be some information on them. Like a…like a…scroll, a song, ANYTHING REALLY!” He screamed to the starry heavens.

  'Or maybe you’re just being an idiot.' The stone woman suggested.

  “Maybe so, but I have to try.” Sloan pointed at the petrified woman as he made his way out of the garden.

  'Like I haven't heard that one before.'

* * *

  The sun was lighting up the sky by the time Sloan had packed what he felt he needed for his trip. Sloan knew that it was too warm for the cloak he flung around his shoulders but he really didn’t care. It would protect him from the rain and double as a blanket. He gave one last look to the home he and Phyllis built together.

  "Mr. Sloan." The voice of Jezebel cut through his thoughts. Turning around, sure enough Jezebel was indeed standing behind him. She had changed and done up her hair in a different style since last night.

  'Does this woman ever sleep?' thought Sloan, as he answered, "Yeah?"

  "I was wondering if Phyllis was up and about yet." she asked with a not so subtle look around his back. With a frown, she noticed the packed bag he was carrying. "Going somewhere, Mr. Sloan?"

  "Why, yes. Yes, we are." Sloan tried to sound casual.

  "We?" the woman pressed.

  "Well, you see," Sloan fiddled with the straps of his bag to think of a believable lie. There is no way she'd ever actually believe the truth. "Philli was so elated after your wonderful party last night, she insisted we race off to find inspiration that was more suited to your refined tastes."

  "I'm not stupid, Mr. Sloan." Jezebel neatly folded her hands down her front. "If Phyllis needed a repose after last night's endeavor she just needed to say so. However, I do expect something unique when she does return. I'm sorry, when did you say you were getting back?"

  Sloan didn't say when they'd be back. At this point, Sloan didn't know if he'd ever return.

  "You know, I'm not really sure when-" Jezebel held up her hand to stop his ramblings.

  "I don't want to hear excuses. All I care about is results. Please tell your wife that she has six months to create something truly magnificent or else I will not hesitate to throw both of you back into this little hole in the wall you call home. Do I make myself clear?" She was drawn up to her full size as she spoke every word with clear diction.

  "Crystal." Sloan swallowed hard.

  "Good. As promised, the movers shall be here tomorrow. Speaking of which, I'll be needing that key to let them in." The Seeing Talent pointed to the key he was about to lock his door with. Sloan quickly handed over the small brass object, hoping to get going soon. "When you get back you can pick up your new key at the Town Hall. Hope to see Phyllis sooner rather than later. Tah for now." Sloan waited for her to fully disappear down the street before taking off himself.

  By the time he reached the northern gate the sun had risen to wake up the world. Sloan didn’t spare a backward glance at the only home he had ever known. Either he’d be coming back with Phyllis or he would not be coming back at all.

  It wasn’t even noon before Sloan was already tired from walking. How far he had traveled, he could not have told you… but it felt like an eternity. Yet the town was still embarrassingly close from his current standpoint, looming tauntingly behind him. He had no idea what lay beyond the farm fields surrounding the town, no knowledge of where the next town was or even if he could find any help there. For all he had seen in his life, Tinkerton could have been the only city in existence. Breathing heavily, Sloan found a wonderfully large rock to sit down upon to rest his aching feet. While he rested, he fished out a loaf of hard bread. He frowned at the bland taste as he looked down the road he still had left to travel. The hard-packed dirt road stretched all the way up and over a hill in the distance. Groaning around the bit of bread, he shoved the rest of the loaf back into his pack and determined to keep going before nightfall came.

  Three equally large hills later, the sun started to sink. Figuring he’d make camp before he ran out of daylight, Sloan managed to find a small path off the road. The path sloped down to a clearing just off the main path. A fallen tree caught between two boulders had a nice Sloan sized crevice for him to sleep in. Shoving his pack into the crevice Sloan went to forage for food. He figured the more he ate off the land the more supplies he had for an emergency. Careful to gauge his surroundings, he picked through the underbrush. Sloan found a shallow but wide stream not too far from where he was camping. As he watched the water trickle over the rocks he spotted what looked like miniature lobsters jetting from rock to rock. Worrying his lower lip, Sloan debated on eating more of his supplies or wading out to catch a few of those lobster-fish.

  Hunger won out as he took off his socks and shoes. Sloan shuddered at the pricking of rocks poking his tender feet. Clumsily, he chased several lobster-fish to the shallower part of the stream to catch them. With his handkerchief, he wrapped his catch so they couldn’t pinch him.

  He caught three medium sized ones before spotting the granddaddy of them all. He was as gray and big as a brick. Pinning the handkerchief holding his catch down with a large rock, he waded out to catch the guarantee of a decent meal.

  Sloan went further in to catch his future meal. Anticipating his imminent capture, the lobster creature swung his fat pincher up to latch onto Sloan’s finger.

  Swearing loudly, Sloan flailed around to dislodge the horrid beast from his finger. With a particularly fierce upswing, it finally decided to let go. Spinning a few times in the air, it landed with a plop back in the water. Panting loudly, he examined his injured digit for damage.

  A loud cackle cut through the usual sounds of the forest. Shocked at the noise, Sloan violently looked around for the animal responsible for the sound. His eyes fell on the most peculiar looking bird he had ever seen. Most of the bird’s body was covered with black feathers with a bright white chest. What struck him as odd were the sapphire blue tail and wings. As he stared at the way the light caught the blue of the wings, it opened its beak to give another mocking caw. Despite knowing it was futile to scowl at a bird, Sloan did it anyway. To make his crummy mood better he was going make the overgrown feather duster fetch some of the berries that grew in the bush near the tree it was sitting in. Altogether too smug, he pulled his flute from its holster to play the song he knew by heart then-

  Nothing.

  He couldn’t play.

  Well, he could play he was sure, but for some reason, he could not bring himself to play. It took more futile attempts before he knew why he could not bring himself to play. Every time he thought about using his Talent the image of his wife sinking into the shadows burned across his mind’s eye. Frustrated, Sloan shoved his flute back into its holster to make his way back to camp, determined to never use his Talent again.

  “Eh, stupid crow…thing.” Sloan dismissed giving a gesture for the bird to get out of his sight.

  ‘Magpie. I’m a magpie you idiot.’

  Sloan was startled for a second. Furiously he looked around for the source of the teenage girl’s voice. The voice was coming from inside his head, just like the petrified woman's did.

  “It can’t be.” Sloan denied. He closed his eyes tight, turning back towards where the voice came from. Taking a deep breath, he opened his eyes again, praying he would see some surly teen girl. He was sorely disappointed when the only living soul in sight was the obnoxious bird.

  “First a statue, now a bird. I mean, seriously!” Sloan shouted towards the bird, who in turn was so surprised that she fell off her perch. Sloan did not give the talking bird enough time to recover as he took off back towards his camp. Taking deep calming breaths Sloan tried to act like he didn’t just talk to a bird. He unpacked his lidded cast iron pot to toss in the lobster-looking creatures. Pouring in a liberal amount of fresh water, he began to sort through the various broad-leafed plants he found. Sloan went to add what he thought was sage when he heard it again.

  ‘Don’t add that one, unless you want to die.’ It was the voice of the girl again. She seemed quieter than before, though, as if she was talking to him from some feet away. If Sloan wasn’t mistaken the girl had followed him and was now watching him in a nearby tree. Now her advice left Sloan with a dilemma; does he add the leaf?

  A seemingly simple decision was now complicated by one little sentence. Does he add the leaf to keep the illusion that he can’t hear her? Or does he concede that the girl obviously knows he can hear her? Sloan’s hand begins to shake before he shouts

  “What do you want from me?”

  ‘Oh good, you can understand me. For a minute there I thought you were just crazy.’ The girl admitted, winging her way down from her tree. She landed directly in front of him as if she was welcomed like a friend.

  “What do you want, Feathers?” Sloan tossed the rest of the leaves away from him. The bird girl puffed herself up in indignation.

  ‘First of all, the name’s Talon. Second-HEY!’ The girl started to complain but was swatted at by Sloan. ‘What is your deal?’

  “You’re where the fire is going.” Sloan pointed out. “Unless you do want singed feathers.” Sloan looked up from building the fire to smile at the girl. He had only been cursed for a few hours and already found two more of the Djinn's victims. A few hours back Sloan had kicked himself for not getting the statue girl's story. Maybe there was a pattern he could manipulate. Like, did the Djinn actually need the rhyme? Was using a coin imperative? Or were both required to perform a proper summoning? The bird looked away in what could only be described as a huff. If she were human again she would’ve crossed her arms to pout. Speaking of human-

  “So what’s your story then?” He hadn’t meant to ask out loud but the question slipped out anyway. Tact was never his strong point.

  ‘Sorry?’

  “You know. This!” Sloan looked up from the blooming fire to indicate Talon’s bird body. Talon went silent for a minute as she thought about answering him.

  ‘I don’t want to talk about it.’ Was all he got for his efforts. Sloan scoffed as he went back to cooking. Typical girl response.

  ‘Not like you care anyway.’ She added quietly.

  “Oh my yes. That’s why I asked. Because I don’t care. That’s why I tried to start up a conversation; to avoid a conversation. Whoo. I mean weird awkward silence is so much better than, you know, actually talking to one another.” Sloan ranted on while stirring the now steaming concoction. Was the water supposed to look that dirty used dishwater color?

  ‘Alright. Fine. I get it.’ The girl interrupted loudly. ‘I’ll tell you my story if you tell me yours first?’

  “What makes you think I have a story?” Sloan tried to act cool and aloof. Trying to divert the conversation away from what happened last night.

  ‘Are we really going to do this all night?’ Talon snapped. Her beak gave a click to match her annoyance.

  “Fine. I guess I could start by saying I have a wife named Phyllis.”

* * *

  ‘So you sold your wife for power?’ Talon had invaded the camp to sample the food placed in front of her. For some reason, the girl turned bird decided that she would rather spend time with a grump like Sloan than be alone in the forest.

  "Thank you for rubbing it in my face.” Sloan frowned before taking a painful swig of his own portion of Forest-floor Stew. A delightfully terrible combination of the creatures he had caught in the river (people called them crayfish, according to Talon) along with several edible plants and one edible mushroom. He couldn’t taste the difference between the rubbery mushroom bits and the rubbery creature bits. Except for the occasion piece of shell, that is.

  ‘No problem, but that doesn’t explain why you are out here.’

  “I’m looking for a way to get her back.”

  ‘What, from the Djinn? Impossible. One wish is all you get.’

  “You know you seem to be oddly educated about the Mythical Being for a bird.” Sloan had a suspicion, but with a being as horribly twisted as the Djinn he had to make sure. Was she another victim or a spy? Apparently, Sloan had a look on his face because Talon was quick to defend herself.

Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

  'What? You honestly think I have tried to reverse my condition? Do you how many coins I have stolen? No matter how many times I've tried he won't even show up.'

  "So, why a bird? Did you ask for the ability to fly or something?" Sloan kept prodding at both the subject and his food.

  'Look, buddy, I don’t know about where you come from but that’s just rude! Asking someone you just met something so personal.’

  “Says the girl who was spying on me in the woods. Why were you spying, huh? I bet you were trying to steal some food, or worse, report back to your boss, the Djinn.” Sloan had no mercy. The Djinn had the power to change the laws of Talent itself. There was no limit to his power.

  'Spy…for…' Talon’s voice faltered as her mind wrapped around what Sloan had said. 'Do you have any idea what I’ve been through?' Sloan knew a rhetorical question when he heard one.

  ‘I’ve spent the last three years of my life on the fringe of something I use to be a part of. No one talks to me; no one pays attention to me. My own family shooed me away. I never even got to say good-bye.’ That last part Sloan was sure Talon never meant for him to hear. But it was something he could never forget, even if he wanted to.

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t know.” Sloan looked away. Talon’s bird face looked the same way it always did, but he felt the urge to look away nonetheless. “It’s just…been a long and very confusing few days. Sometimes I feel like I’ll just wake up.”

  ‘You’ll get used to it.’ Sloan frowned; he didn’t want to ‘get used to it’!

  “You know what? NO! I won’t. I refuse! I’ll get her back. No, I’ll get both of you back. Better yet, I’ll get him to fix everyone!” Sloan declared to the cooling evening air. Talon gave a yawn.

  ‘You going to finish that?’

  “Back off, scavenger!” Even though he protested, he was seriously thinking about giving the girl the rest of his food. “Hurry up bird, we’re almost out of daylight and I need to clean up and get moving. The last thing I need is to wake up with a bear in my face.”

  ‘For the last time, my name is Talon. Like the ones I’m going to use on you if you irritate me. Besides, there are no bears in these woods.’ Talon took off, towards what Sloan assumed was her home. Sloan jammed his pack into the space under the fallen log first, hoping he could trap the warmth from his body with it. With some effort, he managed to curl his entire body underneath his cloak. The overgrowth was just enough to make a semi-comfortable place to sleep.

  “Well, that’s good,” Sloan muttered out loud without realizing it.

  ‘Wolves yes. Bears no.’

* * *

  Blinking, Phyllis woke up face down in a pile of coins. Pushing herself up, she looked around, confused. A white mist hung around her and the piles of golden coins surrounding her. As she pulled a face, Phyllis felt pressure on her left cheek. Curious, she peeled off a silver coin bearing writing from her face. Sub-consciously Phyllis slipped the coin into the pocket where she held her handkerchief. She wobbled as she stood up to get a better look at where she was.

  Pressing her fingers against her mouth, she tried to think about what to do next. As she took a step forward, her heels caused an avalanche that sent her tumbling head over feet. Sprawled in an ungraceful heap, Phyllis screamed in frustration as she kicked off her heels. Detangling her limbs from one another, she realized that she was not hurt. Blinking, she looked over her exposed skin for cuts or bruises. Nothing. She gave her left forearm a hard pinch. When she felt nothing, she tried to pinch harder with her nails. Still, nothing.

  ‘Am I dreaming again?’ Phyllis thought to herself, as she looked up to see what she could see. The mist looked more like a solid cloud cover that hung over her. “Looks like I am dreaming.”

  ‘Well…if I am dreaming then I should be able to- ‘Phyllis leaped into the air, trying to fly. Gravity promptly yanked her back down like it always did. With a huff, Phyllis plopped down hard on her butt. Still feeling nothing, she flung herself back to look at the stationary mist cloud above her. Annoyed, she attempted to disturb the mist around her with her hand. When doing that accomplished nothing she let her hand fall hard to her side. As her frustration mounted, she turned on her side, trying to figure something out. She reached out to read one of the countless coins.

  ‘Empathy’ She turned the coin over to read, ‘I wish I could be a surgeon.’ Confused, Phyllis began to start reading other coins. At the very least, it was something to do.

* * *

  ‘Will you quit staring?’ Talon fluffed her feathers. She seemed on edge, not that Sloan noticed anything else besides the chaotic city. Compared to the linear setup of Tinkerton, this entire town seemed almost slapped together. Buildings were all different sizes and colors. When he took a closer look at the buildings, he noticed that some were even made of different materials. Animals called out from their baskets and cages, adding to the din of conversation.

  “I can’t help it. This place is nothing like Tinkerton,” The Flutist replied in awe. An unkempt dog sniffed around one of the many food stalls, only to be chased off by the owner of the stall.

  ‘Oh, it can’t be that different.’ Talon tried to rationalize from her perch on the man’s shoulder. Sloan rolled his shoulder hoping to dislodge his “heavier-than-she-looked” companion. In retaliation, Talon gripped tighter, almost poking holes in the tough fabric.

  The key difference in this town from Tinkerton was not just that the main road ran directly through the town but almost every building along the way was selling food. Some merely had raw ingredients, one building was offering to butcher a pig in less than a day for you for only forty Renzies. Sloan had no idea what a Renzie was. Walking past an outdoor café, Sloan saw that a woman in a flowy dress was enjoying her steaming mug and pastry.

  Sloan's stomach gave a rumble. He moved over to the side of the café. Leaning against one of the many flower-covered white arches over the doorways, Sloan dug out his credit book. He had some money left over from when Phyllis had to buy her supplies.

  ‘What’s that?’ Talon’s piped up. Sloan was annoyed she was still here, he’d hoped she’d get bored soon enough.

  “I’m seeing how much credit I have left so I can get some more supplies.” Sloan showed the girl his book.

  ‘Credit? So, is it like money or what?’ Talon asked, leaning in to look closer.

  “Of course it is money. What else would it be?” Sloan was not liking where this conversation was going.

  ‘Well, whatever it is, you can’t use that here.’ Talon stated, sitting up straight again.

  “Pff. And how would you know?” he was really hoping she was wrong about this.

  ‘See that sign over there?’ Sloan looked around to see the sign the shop owner across the street was putting out.

  “Lunch Special: Rosemary Lamb Shank with Rhubarb pie slice only twelve Renzies.” he read off the chalkboard. “So?”

  ‘So, this town uses Geld, Renzies, and Peras. And all you have are little pieces of paper with words on them. Which means- ‘

  Sloan breathed, realizing with horror “I have no money. What am I going to do? I mean, I can’t go back home.” By this point, Sloan was starting to panic.

  ‘You should definitely go home. There is nothing you can do out here.’ Talon said, trying to provoke him.

  “I am not going back without Phyllis.” Sloan snarled, batting at Talon. The girl fluttered to the ground with a huff.

  ‘Fine! Don’t say I didn’t warn you. I’ve babes in the woods more equipped to handle the real world than you. I mean, seriously, if it wasn’t for me you’d be dead! What kind of idiot puts something in his mouth without knowing what it is?’ Talon was yelling over their link but her bird body was screeching at him.

  By this point in their bickering, a crowd had formed around them to get a nosy view of the commotion. The normal people could not understand the cries of the bird. To anyone but Sloan it sounded like he was just arguing with a normal bird, albeit one with unique plumage. A murmur broke out among the crowd, as they wondered aloud if someone should alert a guard to have this man dragged off. For once in Sloan’s life, it seemed that luck was on his side. In his haste to repack last night, his bowl had been verging on falling out of his bag all day. With one particularly strong jolt to take a swipe at Talon, the bowl finally became dislodged as it gave one full flip before settling in the dirt, opening up.

  A sharp-eyed crowd member who happened by spotted the dropped pottery lying innocently at the madman’s feet. Then an idea came to the stranger. This wasn’t a mad man arguing with an animal out of insanity. No, this was a street performer with his obviously trained pet. Why else would the bird stay near a person trying to grab it out of midair? As the stranger watched, he laughed when the trained bird landed deftly on its owner’s head to peck at the man’s scalp. Admiring the level of commitment to the act, the stranger donated a few bronze Pera coins to the collecting bowl.

  “Knock it off.” Sloan ordered as he pulled out the closest thing he had to a weapon. Brandishing a silver flute like a sword, Sloan took a swipe at the bird. The musical instrument made a pathetic weapon as it turned out. At the sight of it, Talon gave a screech of anger before dive-bombing it to snatch it out of Sloan’s hand. With baited breath, he watched her carry her treasure away towards the nearest roof and far out of his reach. Once she landed, she peered down at him before giving her mocking laugh. Swearing under his breath, Sloan took a deep breath to clear the anger from his body.

  “Alright, Talon. You win.” he called up to her. He was too hungry and far too tired to fight with her anymore. Pleased with herself, Talon bobbed her head up and down as if she was doing a victory dance. When she finished, she grabbed the flute to bring it back to Sloan. She dropped the silver instrument into his outstretched hand and then proceeded to resume her perch on Sloan’s shoulder.

  Once she settled, the crowd that had amassed around them burst into applause. Several people where so impressed by their display they added more coins to the now half-filled bowl. Blinking in confusion, Sloan picked up his fallen dishware, smiling for the first time since he had started his journey.

  “We should do that more often.” Sloan was counting his money in their room at the inn they could now purchase for the night. Talon was perched on the window sill overlooking the outside world. She was fluffing and fidgeting as she kept glancing at the door to Sloan counting his money, utterly oblivious to the world around him.

  The Tuck Inn was located on the edge of town, filled with travelers such as themselves wanting a place to sleep as well as eat. Ever since Sloan checked them in, Talon seemed on edge. She'd always tense up whenever someone would look their way.

  ‘Yeah. Sure. I’ll peck your head anytime.’ Talon’s voice seemed distant as she fluttered next to the small pile of currency. ‘What are you doing? You act like you’ve never seen real money before.’

  “I haven’t,” Sloan admitted as he put down one of the bronze coins.

  ‘And you call yourself a grown man. Look, we have plenty of time to fawn over our earnings once we are safely in the woods again.’ chided the bird-girl. 'How does your town even function without money anyway?'

  “With this.” Sloan produced his ledger that he used for shopping back in Tinkerton. Talon gave a laugh as she read over the writing on the pages.

  ‘That’s not real money.’ Talon was laughing so hard over their link she was cackling again. ‘You can’t buy anything with paper! It’s not worth anything!’

  “You know, this-“ Sloan picked up one of the coins to show to the girl. “Doesn’t have any worth either. People give things like gold or credit slips worth.” He tried to explain as the teen’s laughing tapered off.

  ‘Whatever you say. Are we going to get dinner sometime tonight or what?’ Talon changed the subject to avoid the impending lecture she was sure Sloan was brewing.

  “Fine. But this isn’t over.” Sloan pulled his bag closer to finding something to put his newest acquisition in. An inner pocket seemed to be a good a place as any. Keeping a few bits of bronze and two silvers to exchange for food, he closed the bag to shove under the bed. “I’ll be back soon enough, don’t tear up the place.” With a click of the door, he was gone.

  Talon got comfortable waiting for Sloan to get back. She knew she had to keep as quiet and out of the way as possible. The innkeeper hated Talon being inside enough without the bird-girl causing problems. The door gave a tell-tale creak as it swung open.

  ‘That was quick.’ Talon commented over their link to who she thought was Sloan. Instead of the angry thirty-something man stood a wiry young man with a too big grin his face. He shut the door behind him so quickly Talon couldn’t escape.

  Talon took to the air, trying to get as far away from the thief as she could. She screeched and banged around in hopes that someone would hear and investigate. Unfazed by the noise or Talon’s flapping about, the thief causally picked up the pillow from the bed as his eyes followed the bird-girl around the room.

  “That’s it. Tire yourself out.” The man smiled. “Makes you easier to catch.” On the word ‘catch’ the thief struck Talon with the pillow. With the wind knocked out of her, Talon lay on the floor trying to gather her wits.

  “Now be a good little birdie and take a nice nap.” Using the pillowcase, the thief bundled Talon so he could slip back out of the room unnoticed.

  Sloan was humming a little tune he had made up along his travel (before the annoyance showed up) as he made his way back to his room. It was so catchy, it got stuck in his head ever since he thought of it. Careful to not spill the large bowl of vegetable soup or tip over the bottle of apple cider, he took each step with caution. A person in a hooded cloak was standing up at the top of the steps, waiting for Sloan to finish his ascent up the narrow staircase. Just as Sloan reached the last three steps, he thought he heard the hooded person say “Oh my freaking head” as he passed by. For a fleeting second, he thought the mysterious person sounded like Talon. With a small shake of his head, he chalked the whole event up to just being hungry.

  “Hope you like vegetables because that’s all they really had left,” Sloan called out as he entered the room. The pillow was lying on the floor naked, the chair had been knocked over, and Talon was missing. Annoyed, Sloan sat the tray of food down on the bed. Did he not say behave while he was gone? Annoyance morphed into a panic when she wasn’t under the bed.

  “Talon?” Sloan called out hoping to hear a sarcastic comment. When none came, he stood up again to look around the room. ‘The window is shut,’ he rationalized. ‘She couldn’t have possibly opened the door on her own. So how- ‘Sloan remembered the stranger on the landing that sounded exactly like-

  “Talon!” Sloan grabbed his own cloak and his room key. Something told him this wasn’t going to be your run of the mill errand. Long shadows stretched out in the dying sunlight as people were packing up their animals and wares to go home. Desperate, Sloan hustled up to the nearest person, who was putting chickens in baskets.

  “Excuse me.”

  “We’re closed. Come back tomorrow.” the man snapped, while wrestling a particularly rowdy bird.

  “Listen, I am looking for my pet bird. She is about this tall- “Stretching out his arms to her rough size. Sloan stopped talking when the man roared with laughter.

  “You’re that loony man everyone in the market is talking about. Lost track of it, have you? I knew you couldn’t train a bird; too stupid you see. McLennan lost a whole lot of turkeys last year when it rained. Grwahaha.” Sloan rolled his eyes. He didn’t have time for this.

  “Have you seen her or not?” Sloan huffed, looking around for any suspicious characters.

  “Just go buy a new one from the peddlers! Get yourself a bear. Now that's what people would pay to see.” The chicken monger had more to say but Sloan had already started to head towards the direction the man had vaguely waved in.

  Out of town merchants dotted the outskirts of the city. The exotic animal peddlers could be heard before they were visible. On the very end of the camping ground, there were three wooden carts that looked like tiny houses with wheels next to the only tree in the lot, surrounded by tarp-covered crates. Ducking down, Sloan slunk behind one of the larger crates lying around.

  “Master LaRue. Master LaRue.” A young man’s voice called out from behind the crate. Careful as he could, Sloan poked his head from around the crate to see what was going on. In the light of the bonfire, Sloan managed to make out that Talon had been caged to be presented to who appeared to be the owner of the caravan. An old man decked out in a patchwork cloak of animal pelts came out into the light. As Sloan looked on he noticed that Master LaRue wore a necklace of animal claws and teeth.

  “You bring me a magpie?” Master LaRue bent his crooked back to get a closer look at Talon. “Why?” If snakes could talk Sloan was sure that is exactly how they would sound. The thief swallowed hard before he spoke.

  “I’ve seen it do tricks.” The thief did not look the man in the eye. “All on its own. No Talent."

  “Really? That might fetch a price. Put it in with Roscoe.” The thief shuffled to collect Talon’s cage to deliver to Roscoe. Sitting on the steps of the third rolling house was a wispy woman covered in a fine layer of grit. She collected the cage with Talon, gave the girl-bird a sneer before attaching the top of the cage to a hook jutting out near the door. The cage swung back and forth, knocking Talon from the perch. The woman gave a cackle as she tapped the bars again.

  "Stupid birdie." the woman mocked, batting the cage, making Talon fall again.

  Wondering how on earth he was going to rescue Talon, Sloan repositioned himself to where his back was resting against the crate. Slightly frustrated, he banged the back of his head against the crate. The crate, in turn, growled at him.

  “Think we feed tiger tonight?” A reedy feminine voice asked.

  “Naw. Fed thing yesterday. Don’t need much food in box.” Master LaRue replied. The caravan went back to their nightly duties while an idea formed in Sloan’s head. Peering out from around the tiger’s crate, he waited for the perfect opportunity. Under the tarp the crate was not really a crate, it was a cage with one wooden side and the rest were bars. He could control the beast to force the three of them to hand over his companion. Sloan’s hand drifted to the instrument but when he touched it he felt a pit in his stomach again. Cursing his weak nature Sloan smacked his head against the side of the cage again. The entrapped tiger growled again.

  "Yeah, yeah I hear yah." Sloan snapped, chewing on his lower lip.

  Looking back around the corner again something caught his eye. The tiger's cage was being locked by a simple slip latch. There wasn't even a lock or anything preventing it from being accidentally opened.

  ‘Just a tiny little latch. It is almost like they wanted the beast to get out. All you have to do is give it a little nudge.’ Sloan found himself justifying as his hand gravitated towards the latch. Even the tiger was staring at Sloan as the Music Talent's fingers wrapped around the latch. Both man and beast locked eyes for the briefest of seconds. Sloan knew full well he would be ripped to shreds by the massive predator. As the man stared into the tiger's eyes he felt no fear. The creature had no ill will towards the man about to free him.

  ‘Morons. If they didn’t want the tiger getting out they should have locked the cage.’ A malicious voice criticized as Sloan slid the latch open. This whole experience was allowing the darker thoughts a louder voice than he was used to. With a quiet creak, he swung the door open. Ducking under the tarp, Sloan hoped the moving people would provide a more tempting target. From his hiding spot, he heard the tiger’s roar mingle with the terrified screams of the peddlers. Taking that as his cue, Sloan slipped out of his hiding spot to slink around the edge of the camp. As the thief, the woman, and Master LaRue tried to keep out of the giant cat’s reach, a third man burst from the rolling house Talon was hanging from with a flute in hand. Instantly he joined the fray, blowing a familiar tune. Sloan froze a foot from grabbing Talon as the song washed over him. It was the Song of Hearts but it wasn’t. From the tempo to several notes, the song was not right yet Sloan knew what it was.

  ‘SLOAN!’ Talon screamed, breaking Sloan’s concentration.

  “Right.” Sloan breathed, flipping the latch for the bird cage, allowing Talon to fly free. Not waiting to see if the peddlers were ok, the two of them fled into the night.

  They ran back to the Tuck Inn, ignoring the glare that the innkeeper shot them as they rushed up to their room. Sloan grabbed the chair, propping it up against the door. Panting heavily, the two of them stared at the door, just waiting for the poachers to come bursting through their barricade. Sloan slumped to the floor as the burst of energy from earlier began to fade.

  'Now, what?' Talon spoke up.

  "Don't know. Eat our cold dinner, get spotty sleep and leave at the first glimmer of light?" Sloan suggested, not looking away from the door.

  'That's the best idea you have ever had.' Talon said quietly. Carefully crawling up to where his back was flat against the bed board, Sloan and Talon ate their ice-cold meal in silence. The tension could have been cut with a knife when Sloan settled for the remainder of the night still sitting up and facing the door. Talon on the other hand still bobbed around restlessly on the bed. Getting annoyed that her jittery fidgeting was making him more nervous he grabbed the bird/girl. She made a noise of protest only to have Sloan shush her. Folding his arms, he settled Talon onto his stomach. When the normally fussy teen didn't make a sound or try to move Sloan was worried.

  'Thank you.' Talon's message was no louder than a mouse squeak. In response, Sloan used his right thumb to stroke down the spot between her still shaking wings.