Parched lips. Dry eyes. Skin numbing and burning as snow and wind tried to burrow their way under my skin. But I didn’t turn around, didn’t slow down. All the sensations helped to ground me and press the memories back where they belonged.

Except for one.

But being frozen solid had nothing to do with her, so it was easier to identify and hold back. Especially when I was clearly moving and the snowstorm had a chaotic energy that was nothing like that blank stillness.

I pressed forward.

It didn’t matter where I went as long as I kept moving. It wasn’t like I’d run into anyone else out here and the lake was still frozen over, so I didn’t have to worry about falling in. Barra could find me as soon as the storm subsided now that I had one of her bits of glass and the others let her know I done something crazy again.

The wind stole my breath and cut across the back of my throat. My teeth ached with the cold. My eyelashes froze together as I squinted to see through the swirling snow. There was a diffuse kind of light which made me think it was day time, but it wasn’t strong enough to make more than the lightest of shadows.

By the time I trudged my way to the edge of the Rookery the need to flee lessened enough that I could give thought to other important things. Namely that this wasn’t the magical cold that the High Priestess had made on the shore—I might not die from the cold, but that didn’t mean I couldn’t get frostbite and there wasn’t a guarantee I’d heal fully like I had before.

I couldn’t stay in the storm.

But going back wasn’t an option.

And I had nowhere else to go.

I glanced down at the barely there shadow stretching from the pine in front of me. The shadow paths would get me out of the snow and cold. If I could enter them. I closed my eyes and tried to sense if there were any deeper shadows around me, but nothing was stronger than the faint breath of shadow in front of me, so weak that if felt like one more errant cloud would take the opportunity away.

Pressing against the base of the tree, where the shadow was darkest, I tried to will myself into it, but nothing happened. Rather than a tent entrance it felt like a rock wall. Theoretically I could enter the shadow paths through it, but I didn’t have the strength to break my way in or the finesse to find a crack to slip through.

I tried to visualize the shadow as something else: a tent entrance I could untie, a pool I could sink into, a hole, but they couldn’t overtake the image of a rock wall. Impenetrable. Solid.

The shadow might as well have not been there for all the good it did me. I hit the snow, the bitter taste of frustration filling my mouth. I could go further into the woodland and hope that between luck and chance I came across a deeper shadow or a hollow I could shelter in, but without fire I’d still be more likely to freeze.

I glanced back at the cliff. Or I could go to where I knew there was a shadow dark enough that I could enter it. All I had to do was brave the switchback in the wind and snow.

Well, it wasn’t like I’d die even if I slipped off the path. Though I would definitely freeze if I broke a bone and wasn’t able to walk. I frowned at that thought, but I’d get frostbite with every other option, too. This one at least had the chance of true respite from the storm.

I turned around and started to make my way back across the lower half of the Rookery to the closest switchback. Exhaustion settled in quicker than I would have liked, shoving my way through the deep snow. Shivering from the cold and the way the wind snatched my breath didn’t help either.

But I welcomed the way my feet dragged, the focus it took to take one step and then another without giving into the temptation to sink into the soft snow. Better that blocking out everything else than letting my mind drift to all the other places I didn’t want it to go.

I stopped when I was about two thirds of the way to the cliff to stare up at it. From what I could see, the snow hadn’t had a chance to build up on the switchback, except for in small crevices and corners, because of the wind. A small blessing since I didn’t like having to hike all the way up that path in best of circumstances. Still, I’d need to keep close to the wall to help make sure that same wind didn’t blow my footing out from under me.

Prepared as I could be, I was about to continue forward when I noticed a large, light shadow growing around me. Then I was hurtling sideways and up. And up.

I cried out in shock but between the regular wind and the speed I was suddenly moving at, the sound got swept away. The world spun again.

For a moment I was back on the water snake, desperately holding on as it thrashed. But I wasn’t the one holding on this time. Something was holding onto me. Twin lines of pressure pressed against my front and back and they felt sharp. It wasn’t hard to imagine that they’d be drawing blood if they pressed in any tighter.

I wanted to wipe my eyes clear but my arms were trapped, so shaking my head was the best I could as I tried to make sense of my new predicament.

White and silver feathers that blended in with the snow. Powerful, long wings that glided along the turbulent wing currents, beating only when they had to. A round, pure black eye in the corner of my vision.

I was caught in a storm bird’s beak.

Did it think I was food? Or was it trying to help?

It brought its wings in closer to its body and we plummeted. My stomach sank and tried to twist itself in knots as I closed my eyes against the idea that I was going to be smashed against the ground. I tried to find something to hold onto but I couldn’t even find the bird’s tongue.

Then my stomach lifted into the back of my throat as the storming bird started to glide again. I muttered curses at it.

The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.

When I peeked my eyes open to see what was happening I saw that we were only a short ways above the field of nests on the upper part of the Rookery. My captor kept circling lower, in tighter circles, until the storm winds fought such precise flying. Then the bird deigned to flap its wings so that we landed on the edge of a large, clean nest.

My captor spit me out and the air got knocked out of me as I hit the dirt and grass bottom of the nest. Then it waddled forward and I had to scramble forward to avoid being stepped on. I nearly made it to nest’s edge before its long black beak nudged me back down and I slipped back down against a warm bulk covered in smooth, soft feathers.

Pins and needles broke out across my skin at the sudden heat. Despite that it felt nice to finally be warm, I still tried to escape again.

I didn’t get any further than before when the bird nudged me back down again and gave me a gentle peck with a beak easily as wide as my head. Taking the hint I settled down and let myself be covered in feathers.

I was warm, the wind and snow weren’t reaching me under the bird’s bulk, and I wasn’t being squished so badly that I couldn’t stand it. I could stay here even if I wasn’t in the shadow paths. Despite being trapped by my captor’s attentions, the memories weren’t even crowding in—the novelty of the whole situation, and the fact I could see the sky if I wanted to, helped to shove aside the connections that could pull me back into the memories.

I had been the air. Flying. Or as close I could get to it until Tufani let us into the saddle.

The shoots had nothing on it. Oh, I could see how training with them helped, but they couldn’t capture the feeling of a bird rising quickly or slowing suddenly. The soft rustle of feathers, the pull of the wind, the sheer view.

I could only imagine how much cooler it must be on a bird’s back rather than hanging out its mouth like a dead fish.

The storm bird called back and forth with a couple of its fellows before twisting its head around to tuck its beak under its wings. I wondered if it was telling them about the foolish human it caught. I could have tried to escape again, but, instead, I decided that this was ultimately better than trying to stay awake in the shadow paths. So I curled up a bit more in the bird’s feathers and it didn’t take long before I fell asleep too.

- -

A loud squawk vibrated through me and made it impossible to keep sleeping. I yawned and stretched, feeling better rested than I had in days, before I recognized the uneven gait and thump of Tufani’s stride.

“What is it, girl?”

The traitorous bird squawked again and prodded at me with her beak, forcing me out of her fluff that she had been so determined to keep me in before. The sky was dark and still cloudy, but the storm had passed. A small light lit one side of the nest and then Tufani was peering down at me.

She clicked her tongue. “What did I say about sleeping in nests?”

I scowled up at her. “It wasn’t by choice.”

Tufani’s eyebrows rose at that, but she made a ‘come here’ gesture with the hand her candle’s worth of flame hovered over rather than asking questions. “Thanks for watching over her, Anore, but this one isn’t one of your fledglings. I’ll get her back to where she belongs.”

Anore let out a whistling call before bonking me on the head one last time and ‘helping’ me out of her nest by prodding at my legs and back with her beak. I think she was trying to help lift me but it made me lose my balance as I climbed more than anything else.

I tumbled out by Tufani’s feet.

She gave me a small shake of her head before she focused back on the bird. “I’ll make sure you get an extra treat today, pretty girl.”

Anore settled back down into her nest, but she held her head high and smug at the word ‘treat’. Tufani chuckled at her antics before her gaze got a bit exasperated when it fell back on me and she let her flame go out.

She gestured again. “Follow me. We’ll get whatever happened sorted out at the Nest.” And then a few steps later. “You’re lucky I like to make rounds as soon as the storm breaks to check on the birds. Anore probably wouldn’t have let you go until she knew there was a human to take over watching you.” Tufani scanned the surrounding nests. “There’s not any other Sprouts that I have to rescue, is there?”

I shook my head. “Not that I know of.”

She made a sharp noise of acknowledgment and we continued the walk in silence. It didn’t take us that long to make it back to her hut because we could follow the path she had already broken through the snow, even if it did wind a bit amongst the nests.

Tufani directed me to sit on one of the cushions by the fire while she stoked it higher. Barra must have heard the noise, because she stepped from behind the same door covering as last time, hair mussed and only a sleeping robe to cover her under clothes. I never had the luxury of having a set of clothes just for sleeping, but it didn’t surprise me that she did. She still had the bits of glass in her hair and her jewelry on, too.

Barra caught sight of me and her eyebrows pinched together. “What’s happening?”

Tufani flapped a hand at her. “You can go back to your chamber. The sky’s still dark and I know you like your sleep.”

Barra gave me another long look, but her normal, placid look was gaining strength the longer she was awake. The pinch between her eyebrows smoothed out and she dipped her head in a nod.

“Let me know if you need anything.”

Then she disappeared back behind the door covering and took her unfair, ice-like beauty with her. Tufani set a pot of water to boil over the fire before she settled onto a cushion across the low table.

She kept her voice low when she asked, “How did you end up in Anore’s nest?”

I kept my voice low, too. “She snatched me off the ground. Then she wouldn’t let me leave the nest until you showed up.”

“And why were you outside in a snowstorm? Without so much as a poncho for protection?”

I crossed my arms. “There was an argument.”

Tufani gave me a look that said that statement didn’t cut it as an explanation, but there was no way I was going to tell her about the fear and the memories. She waited for me to elaborate but, when I didn’t, she said, “There’s eleven other girls I can talk to that should be able to give a better explanation than that, though I can’t think of a single good enough reason for you to go harrying off into a shamble maker.”

I swallowed but held firm. “My blessing wouldn’t have let that happen.”

Tufani tilted her head, studying me. “That so. Were you afraid of getting hurt? Did the argument escalate?”

“No. There was an argument and it was better for everyone if I left. So I left.”

“And you weren’t afraid for your own safety?”

“No.”

“Hm.” I could tell that she knew there was more to it than that, but she didn’t continue to press me. “I’ll speak to your cohort and we’ll see what they have to say. Next storm you’ll stay here in the Nest.”

“I don’t need you to protect me.”

She snorted. “And I don’t need Sprouts running off into snowstorms. We’ll both do what we need to make sure it doesn’t happen again.”

A handful of minutes passed before the water over the fire started to boil. Tufani moved the pot away from the fire and got a pinch of some kind of leaf from her shelves that she threw into the pot. A couple minutes after that the drink was steeped and she had placed two small cups on the table. She filled both and set one in front of me.

“Drink that.”

I let it cool off for a little bit longer before doing what I was told. Bitter and earthy. Not unexpected, but it was more comforting than I expected. I stayed there, sipping the tea, ready to get up and leave, but having no doubts that Tufani would stop me if I tried. I could have forced the issue, but I didn’t think that was smartest move. Not when Tufani could pick her line of questioning up as easily as she dropped it. Not when I still had months left of training that I needed to learn from her.

A sharp, urgent whistle came from beyond the outside door covering and Tufani answered it with her own whistle.

Wren burst into the hut. “Tufani, Gimley is—” She caught sight of me and stumbled over her next few words before finishing lamely, “here.”

“Thought you might be coming.” Tufani grabbed her cane and stood up. “Now that we caught the messenger why don’t we go and see what everyone else has to say about this argument?”