Feathers

Recovery

As soon as she was outside, a small sob escaped her as her hand rubbed the wrist where the bracelet used to be. Rage welled up inside her and she kicked the empty wooden chicken cages, breaking through one and sending it clattering across the ground. She picked up a stick and hit it hard against a low wall so it broke in two wishing it was the evil Avian's neck instead.

Sorren wiped her burning tears on her forearm, the salt of her dried sweat from the exhausting journey there burning her eyes momentarily. She wanted to sink into the dust and have a good sorry party, for she felt stripped bare and robbed. The weight of fatigue still pressed heavily upon her, making it even more difficult to get her body and emotions under control.

"Sorren," Crow croaked, making her jump.

"I'm fine, Crow. He just has a sick spirit and it made me mad," she said, still glaring at the stick.

"Sorren."

She looked up to find him sitting nearby, one dark eye turned toward the stairs. "Peregrine," he said in his cracked voice.

She whipped her head to her right and looked up to the first landing where an Avian leaned against a wall, his arms crossed over his chest. Narrowed silver eyes watched her intently, as a hawk would a mouse.

She felt the hairs rise along her arms and felt electricity run down her body in a single bolt. Images of him drenched in water, battling the wolves in the storm flickered in her mind, as did the memory of being trapped beneath his weight. She knew his strength now and would not underestimate him again. Moving instinctively, she took a slow step backwards. His expression was unreadable, stony, as though he were deciding whether or not to let her go. He had promised that the next time they met, he wouldn't, but could he break the law in his own city? Sorren did not plan to stay and find out, but if he did pursue her, she was prepared to fight with everything she had to get the medicine back home to Bear and Cat.

The shop door to her left banged open and Sorren jumped in terror as a burly man in a bloody apron lumbered out, turning toward her and the empty chicken crates. His bored face turned to confusion when he realized they were empty. Hot fear constricted her throat.

Sorren had made a big mistake.

"Hey! Where are my chickens?"

She looked back to the silver-eyed who had not moved an inch, assessing the situation with unnatural calm, and then bolted. Though her feet hurt, she knew the main gates were not too far. She could only hope that an alarm would not sound before she could get there. The panic spreading through her chest and down her arms and legs drove her quickly through the throngs of Avians, shoving them out of the way, all the while protecting the bottles in her pack. She spotted a few barrels up against the side of a building, lashed together with rope. Without slowing, she leapt on them and used her momentum to take flight, quickly dodging another Avian gliding by. He spat words at her she had never heard before.

A few turns had her within sight of the main gates and, to her surprise, she was not being followed. She did not hear any shouting or ringing bells as she had expected, but did not slow her speed as she cleared the guards' heads and rocketed out of the city. They cried out in concern, wondering if something was amiss. Sorren was already halfway to the edge of Deepfell before they could act and nearly a mile out when they began to stir with the butcher's angry accusations. They would not be able to catch up.

The muscles in her wings and shoulders were protesting and painful by the time she returned home, the sky nearly black. Had she not grown up in the forest, she would not have found her way back to the cave. Stumbling inside and throwing wood on the fire to illuminate the space, she held her breath, expecting the worst.