The Book Gatherer

Epilogue

O n e     y e a r     l a t e r  .   .   .

Firek watched the ocean waves from far, far above them. No spray of saltwater could touch him, but the stink of brine was thick in his nose. Beneath him, Krunin flapped his wings, the first time in a while. Over the sea, with warm updrafts keeping them aloft, an albatross needed barely to even twitch a feather. Sky-sailing, they called it. One of Firek's favorite ways to fly. Even with the wind running through his hair, even with the warm body of a bird beneath him, even with the ever-moving ocean down below, there was a certain stillness that calmed his heart few other things could.

Warm sunshine, a good bird, and a strong breeze. The home of a nomadic flier. Firek's father had told him that. He had modified the saying after leaving his parents, adding loyalty to the list. At the time, loyalty had meant only serving the Sky Serpent as faithfully as possible. He'd changed it again after the last autumn.

Love. Loyalty to those you love. If Firek had that, he could live in a world of eternal night. He could bear the failure of a bird. He could fight against the most stubborn and opposing winds or the most placid and useless. Love would see him through it all.

That sounded like something his mother would say.

He missed her. She had been . . . eccentric at times, and old-fashioned. When he'd left, he'd done it out of anger, feeling betrayed. It took him years to realize she loved him. He had betrayed her, not the other way around. He had not been loyal to the ones who he should've loved the most.

And his father . . .

Later, Firek reminded himself. Your parents come later. Right now, there's just one.

Yutinah hadn't kicked him out of the flock, something he was still surprised and appreciative of. Firek had flown with the flock for a while longer, but their hostility toward him didn't make it worth the honor. Only the old ostrich caretaker had been kind to him, but because of his own shifty past, Turinet had only made Firek more unpopular.

So Firek had left.

Asked Yutinah's permission, done all the proper paperwork necessary to permit him to leave the Sky Serpent's service, and gotten a job in the messenger business. And as he flew messages to all corners of the world, he sought the special assignments to a specific continent, a certain mountain range, a particular cluster of forested valleys . . . It had taken a long time, a lot of work, but he'd found a way to get messages to one certain earth gatherer girl.

And she'd sent letters back.

Firek didn't need to pull the map out of his saddlebags, but he did so anyway, moving slow as he twisted in the saddle so as to not throw off Krunin's balance. It was a crude thing, just a flat-ish slab of slate with messy charcoal lines etched on it depicting a rugged seashore. A large white X of chalk was drawn over an indent representing a small cove. Firek had memorized that X's position, along with half a dozen professional maps of the site, but he was careful to keep the tablet from breaking, or charcoal smudging. No reason why; he just needed to do it.

He traced a finger over the white X. There. That was the place.

Krunin squawked quietly. Firek glanced up, then immediately tucked the tablet away and sat up straighter. "There it is," he breathed, a smile curling up.

The coastline. Still a dim mark, just a thin stretch of gray on the horizon, but there.

"Almost there."

Krunin scree-ed happily and skimmed the air with his wings.

Firek leaned forward and ruffled the poofy feathers on the bird's neck. "Let's fly a little faster, eh? The sooner we reach the cove, the sooner you get a fish treat."