The Bird People | ONC2024

Chapter Eleven | 1360 Words

'Silence,
so much louder than spoken words.
Like the soundless flight of the
Messenger Bird.
Trembling,
stark, and lonely blue.
Revealing the scars of winters due.'

Wendyy Wolfe

⚖︎⚖︎⚖︎

-The UnBeloved-

"I have only been here for a month and yet I feel like I know you so well Constance."

Her eyes grew large and looked like deep green oceans. Byron smiled slightly but she took a small step back holding out the basket to him.

"I, I must be returning now Reverend. There are chores --," she uttered tightly.

He looked at her curiously. "I'm sorry, have I said something wrong," he asked lightly.

She shook her head a little. "No, not really, I suppose. I just was not expecting you to say such a thing."

"Have you never felt like you have known someone forever though you just met them?"

"No I cannot say that I have, Reverend. I am not well traveled having been born right here in my Grandfather's settlement."

"Oh? You were born here? That is quite interesting."

Constance laughed causing the smooth skin at the edge of her eyes to crinkle endearingly.

"I think not Reverend. I should think you have led the more interesting life. I have had the pleasure of reading my Grandmothers letters she often received from her sister in England and they are far more interesting than the life here!"

"You speak much of your Grandparents, but what of your parents Constance?"

"I never knew them," she trailed off absently.

"Oh," he nodded as a little tendril of understanding began to surface. "I am so sorry to hear that. What happened them?"

He watched her look around as if someone might overhear their conversation and he looked around as well.

"Come, let us walk around the property, I should still like you to give me your opinion for placing a chicken hutch," he distracted her from that nervous behavior he found so strange. She followed him to the side of the small manor.

"I was thinking of placing a garden here," he pointed. Perhaps the chicken yard could go to the other side of the garden!"

"Mmmm. That would be very attainable if you don't mind walking so far. Normally we place our garden closer to the kitchen and build a garden house against the wall. Therefore your chicken yard could be where you wanted the garden and both will be closer for utility."

She walked over near the wall and looked around. "I have never given much thought to arrangements for this home since I don't remember living here."

"Here?" Byron asked with incredulity.

Constance nodded. "I was born here. In this very house." She smiled faintly.

"Well, your life gets more interesting by the moment," he said with wonderment.

"You find that interesting?" Her expression told him she was doubtful.