Feathers

Curiosity

Bain couldn't help but smile a little. "I guess you are right."

"Bain, what if we catch a Feral and you don't like her much? Would you want to try for another?"

He ruffled his hair. "I'm not sure. I suppose so. I don't want to spend the rest of my life with someone I can't stand. No matter who I pick, she won't be able to stand me. It would depend on how much time we have left."

"We have a whole year. I'm sure we will catch a couple at least."

Bain didn't answer. He wanted the Feral that had teased them, if only to get her back and show her that the Peregrines were stronger and smarter. Then he would find another that would be easier to deal with, perhaps shy even.

He searched for the sun between the leaves and decided it was at least noon. He quickly cleaned his knife and sheathed it. "Let's go check the snares. It is a good thing we caught a deer last night and not a Feral. She would have died. We will have to start undoing them at night. I won't have a murder on our hands."

"Grab that rope. We will need extra if we have actually caught one," Rutiger added.

Bain scooped it up and a flask of water, following his friend away from camp. "Maybe we should bring out some chloroform. What do you think?"

Sorren listened carefully until their footsteps were no longer audible before she dropped from the large elm on the edge of the camp. She felt a mixture of anger and hatred toward the Peregrines and toward whomever had made the deal that signed every Feral female off to a chance at captivity. She wasn't sure if she cared if the Peregrine species disappeared or not. Then the Ferals would have the whole forest and never be afraid of anyone trying to come in and hunt their friends or steal their daughters. But without the Peregrines and their other soldiers, the Hawks, to fight for them, Deepfell would be vulnerable to invaders like Eaters and Vultures and even the Avians of Incitatia who might want the land for firewood or farming. The Ferals would be forced to flee to the Wilds.

Sorren picked up a knife and stabbed it into the stump, angry at the whole situation. If things had to be the way they were, she would just have to make sure she never got captured.

She opened one of the tents and peeked inside. Thick blankets lay on the floor, a lantern sitting at the back of the tent. Sorren stepped onto one of them to get a closer look at the strange contraption and was instantly fascinated by the plush fabric, not the thin cloth she was used to seeing.
"What kind of fur is this?"

She had only ever purchased lye and oil from the Lower Quarter, except for one occasion where Bear had fought with a pack of wolves and gotten several deep cuts. She had a needle but needed thread that was fine and would not infect his skin. She wondered if the blankets were made out of a thousand animal hairs woven together or whether there really was some beast with bloody red fur.

Sorren kneeled and put her nose to one. It smelled like soap and male, a scent she had never come across before, deep and alluring. It was not like any flower or animal smell she had encountered, more like rain and petrichor she decided. It was pleasant. She memorized it so that she would be able to smell them coming and because she liked it and hoped to never smell it again.

She lifted the lantern and found that it was surprisingly lightweight, the metal was thin and curling, holding in small panes of glass. She toyed with it for a while and found its opening, smelling oil inside that would keep the wick burning. She nearly panicked when the top spun and collapsed, compressing for easy travel and storage. Perhaps if she took it with her and other things, they would not be able to stay in the forest. How could a flock Avian live without their luxuries and trinkets? They might become angry and simply give up, too, she thought.

That was not likely. The silver-eyed no doubt needed a female to secure his title. He wouldn't leave over a lamp. Even though Sorren did not care what a Peregrine thought, she knew that Bear would be furious if he found out she had gone to their camp. She placed it back where it belonged.

A shadow grew to her left, stretching over the blankets. Her heart quickened and her hand flew to her belt, closing over the hilt of her dagger. As she withdrew it, she spun and pulled it back, ready to strike the Peregrine.

She exhaled. It was only the flap of the tent falling inside.

Shakily, she sheathed her weapon and stepped back out, scanning the surrounding trees carefully for the hunting party. The birds were chirping all around, telling her that no one was near.

"Do they think that hunting my people is as easy as killing deer?"

She found their water, in a bag with a small tap hanging from a branch and let it run out on their fire pit so it sizzled out to a pile of black mud. How reckless of them to leave it burning unattended! With a deep frown, she retrieved her gift for them from her hiding place, giving it a good hard shake before dropping it into one of the tents and tying it closed. Then she carefully took down the deer hide and rolled it up tightly, tucking it under her arm. 

Sorren huffed in satisfaction, decided it was time to leave and leaped into the air.