The next morning when Bup woke, he thought for a moment that Spot, uncle Drust's sheepdog had climbed into his hammock with him. His blanket had been replaced with a gently snoring pile of downy white whose weight pressed comfortably atop him. As he stirred, the downy pile shifted suddenly, and a dangerously curved black beak set between reflective golden eyes appeared just a few inches from his nose. Bup froze. The eagle stared at him for a few moments inscrutably, then shook itself to fluff up its feathers, nuzzled Bup's shoulder, and curled back up to sleep.

Bup timidly spoke to his unexpected bedfellow, "Good morning, Mr. Eagle. Do you mind if I get up now, please?"

One golden eye opened and peered at him. It gave a soft squeak and stood carefully. Bup was surprised at the gentleness and dexterity with which the bird moved. In moments, it alighted on the corner of the roof on one of the wagons. When it was still, the bird's bright metallic greens, golds, and silvery blues blended quietly into the soft browns, but when it moved, the early morning light scintillated off its glorious plumage.

As Bup watched it from his hammock, the sleepy, narrow figure of Kilpa, the [guard], emerged from the back of the wagon. She glanced up as she began to stretch, and froze when she saw the huge bird of prey perched not three feet from her uplifted arms. One heartbeat. Two heartbeats. Neither moved, and then the Eagle tilted its head to look at her, ear-like feathers perked up. Kilpa screamed, high-pitched and girlish, and frantically reached for a weapon, any weapon, without taking her eyes off the eagle. The eagle responded with an ear-piercing whistled, leaning out over her menacingly, wings spreading wide.

Crashing from inside the wagon and around the camp sounded as anyone who might have been asleep at that moment was jarred awake by the ruckus. Bup was still too sleepy to extricate himself from his hammock successfully, but managed to reach a small hand out his hammock towards the two.

"Don't hurt him!" he cried, though his shrill child's scream wasn't understood over the din.

The already deep basso of his father, deepened further by sleep, called out just as Kilpa had finally found the hilt of her sword, "Stop! Stop!" Hayzen broad, well-muscled form stumbled quickly into view from the tent right next to Bup's hammock, holding a hand out. "That bird is now Bup's familiar! Don't harm him!" he said.

Kilpa paused, but her fingers continued tightening on the undrawn sword's leather-bound hilt. She didn't take her eyes off the eagle as she responded to Hayzen, "If it's a danger to the camp, we can't have it here."

"Until this moment, it hasn't shown any signs of aggression at all, Kilpa. Let go of the sword."

The eagle, for its part, had turned its attention to Hayzen as he approached. Intelligence gleamed in its bright golden eyes as it listened, and it folded its wings smoothly. It struck a standoffish and prideful pose, turning away from the suddenly aghast Kilpa. The [guard] finally looked at Hayzen, who spread his hands wide and smiled in a sheepish shrug. She looked back and forth between him and the eagle who seemed to watch her out the corner of one golden eye, and finally released her breath in a huge, defeated sigh. The woman rubbed at her eyes with both hands, leaving her sword sheathed.

"Fine," she grumbled. As she turned away to find a strong dark tea, she muttered to herself, "but I'm not responsible if it gouges someone's eye out."

Other jarred-awake figures appeared at the scene moments later, some had obviously been awake longer than others as they arrived in a mix of night clothes and daywear. Hayzen explained that Bup's new friend had given Kilpa a start and wasn't he such a handsome, intelligent bird? The eagle, who apparently didn't have a modicum of humility, preened proudly through the attention. When it was clear to all that the hubbub wasn't life threatening, morning routines resumed. Left-overs from last night's feast were reheated, hard cheeses and dried apples laid out, and tea brewed.

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By that time, Bup had finally managed to extract himself from the tangle of his hammock. He approached the eagle's perch on the wagon and waved. "Do you have a name?" he asked.

The eagle, shining in the morning sunlight, was completely still for a moment; then it hopped and fluttered to land directly in front of the small boy. If he hunched down at all, the eagle stood eye to eye with him. It stood a normal distance from the boy, as if a friend engaging him in conversation. The bird cocked its head at him, and then very deliberately shook its beak back and forth in a clearly human gesture "no."

"Oh." Bup said, thinking that was awfully sad to go your whole life without a name, but that maybe eagle didn't mind. He thought he'd better ask all the same. "Well, would you like one? I could name you?"

The eagle turned its head so that only one dazzling golden eye peered at Bup unconvinced.

"But only if you like the name!" Bup added hastily.

It continued to stare at him with that one unblinking eye, and then it gave a single sharp nod.

"Okay, um..." Bup thought hard, then concluded, "Let's ask Lissa. She knows good names from the old stories. Follow me!"

At this, the eagle quirked its head in obvious curiosity. Bup turned and began running through the camp. He stopped at the cooking fire, and asked the woman who was preparing breakfast, "Aunt Tecka, do you know where Lissa is?" As he spoke, a large shadow passed over both of them, and the boy-sized eagle landed next to Bup, causing both humans to jerk a little in surprise.

"Ah! Ah, good morning, Buppero. Good morning, Mr. Eagle," Tecka had the good sense to greet both of them. "I think Lissa is probably over by the [lowephants]."

"Thank you," Bup said, and dashed off toward the humongous creatures that had made their family's journey possible.

As the boy ran, the eagle swooped along overhead, its beautiful white belly visible from below. It landed quite gracefully on one of the [lowephants]'s long, thorn-like tusks, and looked down. The [lowephant], basking in the morning sun, flapped an ear-leaf, but otherwise didn't react to the bird's sudden weight. Bup caught up a few seconds later and came around to the other side of the plant creature. There he found the mousy-haired Lissa holding different flowers up right in front of her dark eyes, as if she could make them spill their secrets by proximity.

"Hi, Lissa." Bup said, hardly interrupting her focus.

"Hi, Bup! I can't make it work!" She complained without even looking up at him. "I'm supposed to have a special [eyes of the forest] to see something special about plants, but it's not working!" Her voice grew in volume as she expressed a child's frustration.

"I'm sorry, Lissa. I think we have to be older for it to work..." Maybe if Bup had been a bit older himself, he would have realized that it was quite odd that his own blessing at five years old had included an active familiar bond. He continued, "but, do you wanna help me name my eagle?"

A well of excitement grew in Lissa, and she dropped all of the various plants she had been ocularly interrogating since she'd awoken that morning. She looked up at him, eyes alight, and then looked up and up and up to see two golden eyes looking down at her from the silhouetted form of the giant eagle.

"Woah... you're really cool," she said dreamily.

Bup just nodded with his normal close-lipped grin.

"There's a story that mommy told me about a [gnome druid] named Lethe that went on wild adventures to far away places and saved her world from being eaten by a giant tentacle monster from beyond the sky. She had an eagle too. His name was Artaxes."

The eagle leaned down at her from the unperturbed [lowephant]'s tusk, showing interest as she spoke. When she said the name Artaxes, it let out an ear-piercing shriek. Bup looked up at the eagle as it turned to him and bobbed its head repeatedly up and down.

"I guess you like that name, huh, Artaxes?" Bup smiled up at his new feathered friend.

This was going to be fun.