“Seela,” says bird grandmother, in a lot more of an inside voice this time, “take her to the tree. And if she tries anything, don’t show mercy this time.”

Bird grandmother really has a way of just being really intimidating. She’s old, and not much bigger than me, so I’m sure I could just drop kick her, but she can also fly, so I’m not sure how effective throwing her would be if she can just zip back. She has these really scary-looking talons on her feet, too. I’ve endured falling, and I’ve endured blunt force trauma, but I don’t know how I’d hold up against deep punctures or slashes. Not that I want things to get to that point in the first place- my friendship with her beautiful granddaughter is on the line, after all.

Speaking of which, her name is Seela! What a gorgeous name for a gorgeous girl. Much like her grandmother, she has olive-toned skin, but impeccably smooth, and that same, thick brown line over her piercing blue, almost white, eyes. Her brown curls are wild, and yet there is no frizz, as if the sheer magnetism of her beauty holds every stray hair in place. Matching her hair and face mark, her brown feathered wings shine, reflecting the light in the air, and falling gracefully at the sides of her legs, which end in fatally sharp talons. Around each ankle is a string of teeth, of different sizes and shapes. I don’t think I ever want to stop looking at her. Getting even a glimpse of beauty like hers is the foremost reason to live. Every near-death experience was not in vain, for they brought me to her, and one was even at her hand. Talon? Doesn’t matter.

She looks me up and down, with a mix of confusion and unease in her cold eyes. Now’s my chance to make a good impression.

“Hey there,” I hold out my hand for her to shake, “I’m Hana.”

Really? Hey there? And why am I offering to shake her hand when she very clearly doesn’t have hands? Stupid, stupid, stupid…

She looks at my outstretched hand, then back to me, and then to bird grandmother.

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“Why is she alive, and why am I taking her to the tree!?” she nearly yelled at bird grandmother. Her voice, while high and sharp, is light, airy, and as stunning as the rest of her. It’s a voice that demands your full attention, which you’ll gladly hand over.

Ouch. About what I expected, but ouch.

Bird grandmother shriek laughs.

“Because she’s a freak! But if what she told me is true, we need her. Take her immediately.”

Seela’s gaze scans me over again, landing on my still outstretched arm. I forgot to put that down.

“Fine,” she gently huffs out, “get up, we’re going.”

She turns, and storms out through the tapestry. I turn to look at bird grandmother, who nods from me to the exit, gesturing for me to hurry my ass up and leave her house, as she unscrews the flask again.

Well alright then.

I hop off the couch.

“Thank you for your hospitality,” I briskly lower my head to bird grandmother before grabbing my bag off the floor next to the couch and scurrying outside after Seela.

When I move through the tapestry and exit the house, I realize we are in a tree. Bird grandmother’s house is carved into a tree, and the floor outside the entrance is a giant, giant branch. Right outside on the ground is a rope rug, covered in red and brown spots, which says “please wipe your talons”. Terrifying. I look up, and further down the branch is Seela, perched on the handle of a wicker basket that could easily fit ten of me inside it, leering at me impatiently.

“Get in,” she demands.

As you wish.

I sprint over, so as to not keep her waiting, and jump up to grab the edge of the basket. Pulling myself up, I tumble roll in. Not a scratch on me when I land! I think I’m really getting the knack for falling.

“Are you situated?” Seela’s voice shoots me from above.

“Yep,” I give her the thumb’s up, “all ready to go!”

“Good,” she replies, and spreads her wings to a span of easily threefold her own height.

She wiggles the basket off of the branch, pulling it off the edge, but before we can fall, her massive wings catch the breeze, and we’re airborne.