6) Memories

He flew over the ocean, searching for something. Something was calling him, demanding he find it, but he didn't know what it was.

 

'How can I find you if I don't know what you are?' he asked in his mind.

 

'Come find me.'

 

He had always known things. His mother's family was a long line of psychics, said to be blessed by the Water Elemental herself as a reward for helping the Balance of Powers long before the Palmen Empire was founded in the Mymir islands. He always knew when something life-changing was going to happen, always knew who would be a friend to him and who would be an enemy, always knew if someone he loved was in danger.

 

Now he heard a call, knew whatever was calling to him was impossibly important to him. It was like when he met Jink and Carmon. Whatever was calling him would crawl into his heart and soul and stay there.

 

He spotted an island and he landed, knowing what he was looking for was nearby. He looked around himself. Cliffs dropped in a straight line into the ocean behind him, a half circle of trees that extended to the cliff edge was before him. A gap in the trees on either side of the clearing was a trail along the cliff a safe distance from the edge. The ground and pine tree branches were coated in soft, white snow. More snow was falling lazily from the sky. If he hadn't been so distracted he would have found this place to be beautiful.

 

He stood a moment, not sure what to do. He thought that the thing that called to him was to his left, down the path, maybe, but he wasn't sure. He realized that he didn't know where he was, exactly. He was alone and probably on an island full of his kind's enemies. The fear of what would happen to him if he was caught here almost made him forget the call and go home. Almost.

 

It was then that he heard the stomp of booted feet.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Grayson jerked awake. He was breathing heavily and a cold sweat ran down his back. His long hair had come loose from the tie that held it back while he slept. The blue-black strains fell around his face. His favorite red felt blanket was knotted around his hips and legs.

 

He slowly sat up. He pushed the loose hairs away from his face and his black wings arched and stretched, working out the kinks in them. He stared at the black curtain that block his view of the outside world. Jink had closed them after he dragged Grayson inside and ordered him to sleep. Jink was rarely so forceful, so Grayson had obeyed without a second thought.

 

Now the crow-man rose from his bed, graping his pants from the floor and putting them back on. He crossed to the curtain and pulled the heavy, black material out of his way.

 

It was still dark out, but the moon had set. Dawn was not far off. He figured that he had slept for no more than two or three hours.

 

He didn't go through the door in the window to stand on the balcony. Instead he leaned against the glass and thought.

 

It had been thirteen years since he last dreamed of the day he had his first Palmen. It had been a horrifying day for a twelve-year-old to live through. He had almost gotten his father and Jink killed when he left Crow's Tower to find the owner of the voice that called to him. He had gotten an innocent Palmen woman killed. He had stolen the mother of a five-year-old girl.

 

One of his left pen feathers ached. Although it had grown back, the feather he had ripped from his wing and given to the girl still hurt sometimes. He hadn't been able to fly right until the new feather grew in the empty place, but at least the girl never had to worry about his birds attacking her. One look at that feather would warn all birds tat she was under his protection, as he had told the teary-eyed little one when he had given it to her.

 

Now that he thought about it, Grayson could have sworn that the pale girl had flame-red hair and green-gray eyes.

 

 

 

 

I stand on the deck, not long after moon set, and breath in the fresh smell of the ocean. I look at the dark sky and even darker waters, trying to calm myself. It wasn't working.

 

Normally, when I had nightmares about the day my mother died, I could put my hand on the large diamond on my scythe and I would feel better. It didn't work tonight, however, so I am out under the open sky, another thing that always comforts me.

 

I couldn't really remember what happen that day. It was as if my mind is trying to hind that day from me. All I remember are the pure, white snow and the gentle murmur of a winged boy's voice.

 

Still not at ease, I pull the long, black pen feather out from under my white shirt. A wire is wrapped around the hard, thin end and a long, fine silver chain, turning the feather into a pendent that I can easily hide under my loose shirts. In the twenty years I have had it it has never showed any kind of age. It looks as fresh as it did the day the crow-boy had pulled it out of his left wing.

 

I slide the silky feather along my cheek. My eyes drift closed and a small smile curves my lips. The heavy sadness and fear fades away as quickly as it came. It still smells like the boy had. No amount of time in my keeping could replace that wonderful scent, that crisp, sea breeze scent that I love so much.

 

“What a strange place to find you at this hour, kit.”

 

I spin, torn from my reprieve, and see Arim standing a few steps behind me. He isn't wearing his cloak, for the only ones awake at this hour besides himself are the first mate and I. He looks a little green. I found a few days ago that Arim gets sea sick easily. I guess that it was his unsteady stomach that has him up.

 

“I was having trouble sleeping,” I say as I slowly try to put my feather behind my back. “How's your stomach? Are you feeling alright?”

 

“I'm alright for now,” he answers. “What is that in your hand?”

 

I silently curse myself as a hold the feather in his view. I have never show it to anyone, not even Cliff. It is special and I didn't want to share it with anyone.

 

Arim's eyes widen in surprise as he sees the black feather.“Where did you get that?”

 

I don't want to tell him. I slip the feather back under my shirt and shrug. “I found it.”

 

“You're lying,” Arim states simply. “Where did you get the feather?”

 

“I said I found it.” I fake a yawn and start to walk away. “It's late. I'm going back to bed. You should try to sleep, too.”

 

The panther grabs my arm tightly and spins me around to face him. His gold-yellow eyes snap with fury. My first instinct is to shy away from that fury. I have seen it too many times in my father's eyes to not be afraid.

 

“That feather,” he says coldly, not noticing my cringe, “is the pen feather of a crow. You couldn't have 'found' it because pen feathers don't fall out, they are ripped out and no crow has gone near Palmen islands in twenty years.” His grip on my arm tightens. The pure fury in his face and voice makes me shiver. Only my father can do that, but somehow Arim's anger disturbs me more then my father's. “I will ask you one more time, Mirina. Where did you get that feather?”

 

“He gave it to me,” I whisper. I try to pull away from him, but the panther's grip tightens again. The pain brings tears to my eyes. “Arim, please, your hurting me.”

 

“What do you mean?” he asks as he gives me a shake. “Whose he? What crow did you kill to get this feather?”

 

That snaps me back. Arim thinks I killed the original owner of my feather. My fear is replaced by shock. “You think I killed the crow the feather came from?” I ask in amazement. My own anger starts to boil. “How could you, Arim? I thought we were friends! You should know me well enough by now to know I would never do such a thing!”

 

“Do I?” he snaps. “You obviously are hiding things from me. You never told me you were the Imperial Knight's Commander. What else are you hiding?”

 

“I am hiding plenty,” I snap right back, “but nothing like this! If I was a person who took trophies from her kills you would be able to sense it!”

 

That stops Arim in his tracks.

 

“I can't tell you exactly how I got it,” I continue, “because I can't really remember myself. I do remember that he gave it to me and told me it would protect me from the Amilas birds that attack Palmen. He told me to keep it with me always so I'd be safe.”

 

The cat stands where he is for a moment more, then releases me. I stumble away from him and put my hand over my treasure where it is hidden under my white linen shirt.

 

“I'm sorry, Mirina,” he says softly. “I have friends who are crows. Many of them have been killed and their feathers plucked for quills and such. Seeing your feather brought back bad memories.”

 

I smile and put my hand on his shoulder. “Its alright. I understand. There are reasons why I hide it. The last person who found out I had it was furious,too.”

 

Arim's eyes sharpen. “Is he the reason you shy away from people when they get too close and why you cringe when you hear yelling and why you were so afraid when I grabbed your arm?”

 

I stiffen and press the feather to my stomach, trying to remain calm. “My father had a very strict set rules. If I broken them, I was punished. He wasn't a nice man after my mother died.”

 

The cat-man growls and his fists clench. “How old were you when your mother died?”

 

"Five.” The growls get louder. “I wish I could meet your father so I could teach him how to treat kits.”

 

If Arim meets my father, teaching would be the last thing that would be going on.

 

We are interrupted by Tyler.

 

“The sun's coming up,” he says. “The crew will be up in a bit. Best be going back to your cabin, Arim.”

 

The panther nods. “Thank you. I'll see you later, Mirina?”

 

I smile again. “I'll walk you down. I want to try to get some more sleep. I haven't been sleeping well lately.”

 

We say goodbye to Tyler and go below deck to our cabins. When I am in my bed, my black boots off and my black leather belt laying on the same desk, I stretch out on the twin bed in my white linen shirt and black pants. I take out my feather and run it over my cheek again. I fall asleep with my most precious treasure in my hand.

Author's Note

Isn't that cute? I think so.
^_^