Page 11 of Wild Claim

I tied a piece of tarp over the gaping hole, securing it with nails and a hammer I’d found in the hall closet. The wind played tug-of-war with the makeshift patch, but it held. For now.

Thomas had returned to his nest, his brief heroics leaving him exhausted. I walked back to the living room and collapsed onto the couch, wrapping a woolen blanket around my shoulders. The power outage had turned my farmhouse into an icebox, and I was thankful for the warmth of the fireplace.

“Do you want to sit with me?” I patted the couch. He looked up, hesitant, then walked over. I made a space for him beside me, and he jumped up with a hop. His feathers brushed against my skin, and I laughed at the ticklish feeling it gave.

He settled in, his body radiating a soft warmth. I thought about all the animals I’d cared for over the years. How each had come and gone, leaving their own small voids. Thomas was different. He needed more time and deeper patience. By giving him those, I realized I was filling a void in myself.

The storm was losing its intensity; the wind calming from a roar to a whisper. Rain tapped on the roof gently and the sound soothed me. Thomas tucked his beak into his chest.

“I’m going to make some tea,” I said, rousing myself. Thomas stayed put, his eyes half-lidded.

In the kitchen, I lit the oven burners by hand, filled a kettle with water, and set it on the stove before rummaging through a cabinet for my tea tins. The kettle whistled, and I poured the hot water into a teapot, letting the leaves steep. When I returned to the living room, Thomas sat in his nest.

I sipped the tea, letting the steam warm my face, and retrieved a book from the side table. It was one of Grandma’s old romances, the kind with faded covers of long-haired, barrel-chested men and brittle pages. I opened it and read the first line aloud, then the second.

Part of me thought Thomas might understand the words, picturing the story in his mind. I read slowly, savoring each sentence, each description of long-lost loves and windswept meadows. The tea worked its magic, and a drowsy warmth settled over me.

I closed the book after a few chapters, not wanting to rush through the only thing left unread in this house. Thomas slept undisturbed, and I couldn’t help but think about the odd but wonderful connection we’d created. Maybe we were bothoutcasts in our own way, finding a sort of comfort in each other’s company.

Or maybe I was projecting again, turning a lonely situation into a hearts-and-flowers scenario because that’s what humans do. We create stories, even when reality is enough of a plot twist on its own.

Chapter Six

RORY

Dawn shattered the skywith jagged pinks and oranges. I ruffled my feathers, shaking off the morning dew that clung to me. Mina stepped out onto the creaky porch. She hugged herself against the bite of fall air, her breath forming brief, fragile clouds.

Her gaze swept across the yard, lingering on the fallen branches and scattered leaves before lifting to the roof. “Oh no,” she murmured. “The window wasn’t the only thing that went to pieces.”

My gullet tightened as I followed her gaze to the dislodged shingles and the gaping hole the storm had torn open. The damage was worse than I’d first thought.

Mina huffed into her cupped hands, trying to steal some warmth from the frosty morning. She craned her neck, squinting at the roof. Her smile was gone, replaced by worry. It was the kind of face someone makes when life’s just too much. My talons dug into the cold earth as I watched her, helpless.

She shrugged and let out a sigh. “Well, there’s no point in wishing it away. This problem won’t fix itself.” With that, she disappeared back into the house. I knew what was coming next and flapped my wings in agitation.

A moment later, she reemerged with a tool belt slung over her shoulder and a lengthy rope in hand. She made for the shed, where an old ladder leaned precariously against the wall. My gobbles of protest fell on deaf ears as she yanked the ladder free and started towards the house.

If she got hurt, how could I get help? The curse made me powerless to protect her as I should.

“Don’t worry, silly. I got this.” Mina set the ladder against the side of the house and tested its stability with a few shakes. The wooden frame creaked with the movement.

I paced in tight circles around Mina and the ladder. If I was human, I’d have shut this down with a few gruff words. Mina was hellbent on refusing to ask for help even when it was clear she needed it. That trait might have earned my respect if it weren’t so dangerous.

She tied the rope around her waist with a practiced knot, then fastened the tool belt, its heavy tools clanking together. Mina looked like an action hero, but in a cheesy movie. The kind where the sassy lead goes too far and pays the price. Mina glanced at the roof, inhaled deeply, and began her climb.

“Wait, stop!” I barked out in my head. But I couldn’t say a word. Didn’t she get it was dangerous? My mind raced. If she fell, it would be much worse than a sprained ankle. The first frost of the season had hardened the ground. A fall from that height could break bones, or worse.

I remembered the times in my past when I’d taken similar risks, thinking I was invincible. It was only through sheer luck that I’d come away in one piece, and I knew better now. Experience had tempered my recklessness, but Mina seemed driven to learn the hard way.

She inched higher; the ladder swayed with each movement. Damn it all. I wanted to shout, to reason with her, to tell her that accepting help wasn’t a sign of weakness.

Mina reached the top and balanced on the highest rung, her fingers clutched the edge of the roof for support. After examining the damage, she took out her rope, untied it, and secured it to the chimney. This woman is driving me crazy. Even if she knew how to fix the shingles, the storm had left the roof covered in ice.

All I could manage was an indignant gobble. She glanced down at me, sweat already beading on her forehead despite the cool air. “Are you still worried? Don’t be. I might not look it, but I have some experience.”

Is she kidding me? Her well-being was the one thing keeping me anchored to this godforsaken farmstead, and watching her flirt with disaster like this was more than I could bear.

She loosened a shingle, and the ladder wobbled, causing her to clutch the roof in a white-knuckled grip. My breath caught in my throat. But Mina steadied herself and then went back to prying at the shingle with more caution.

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