Page 35 of Antiletum
A tiny speck soaring through the air in the distance has my breath catching in my throat, my tears sucking back into my eyes, fleeting thoughts melting away.
Bleary eyes narrow on the familiar dot, convinced I’m making it up in my mind. Terrible habit I’ve been forming of late. And there isn’t always alcohol to blame.
“It can’t be…” I muse to myself.
The same black and brown barn owl from Greystone sweeps into my open window as my words get lost. He came just in time to snatch them out of the thick night air, swallow and digest them just to prove me wrong.
It, indeed,canbe.
There’s no doubt that the barn owl staring me straight in the eye, ruffling his feathers proudly and giving me a familiar screech, is the same one who previously haunted theStrigiForest. How many melanistic barn owls are there in existence?
Besides that….
I recognize him. Some base, deep rooted thing inside me knows him. Beyond being able to cartograph the array of speckles over his feathers like I’m connecting the stars. So rich. Like different chocolates layered and pressed together. Without a thought, I reach out and stroke the softness of him, a grin eating away all melancholy.
He nuzzles into my hand.
“What indeosname are you doing here?” I ask, breathless, still giddy with shock and happiness that my owl friend is here. In Omnitas.Visiting my room just like he did at Greystone. Though, he is missing his offering of fruit he always brought me.
The dark owl clicks his beak, affectionately nipping at the palm of my hand petting his feathers. I can’t make myself stop. And it doesn’t seem he wants me to.
I must be more drunk than I had thought. Not even a startle comes about when he lightly pinches my flesh between his beak, not scared at all. Up until our last visit together, the only physical contact we had was me tentatively stroking his head or smoothing an errant feather.
The owl flutters to my knee—so gently.Mindfully. As if he knows how delicate my skin is under the gossamer layers of my dress. Nothing but a spread of tissue paper that he would leave shredded and exposed by those fearsome talons.
He nuzzles against my face then starts using his beak to pull away sticky hair clinging to my cheeks. Preening me thoroughly, tenderly.
“Youaretrying to court me!” I laugh.
I pull back to look at the owl, his head doing a slow turn to the side. Those soulful, deep black eyes bore straight into me. As if he’s trying to communicateBut of course I am.
And a thought occurs to me, yet again, that he has imprinted on me. Becoming territorial around Tabitha. Protective. As if he believed me to be his mate.
But that’s not right. Owls only imprint on humans as fledglings.
His weight on my thigh settles over me. “Well, I don’t have a snack for you tonight,” I tell him sadly. What’s the point in arguing with the situation? If he has imprinted on me, then there isn’t really much I can do.
Besides, I do love his company.
He fluffs his feathers, as if apologizing for also coming empty handed. I’ve never had the heart to tell him I don’t actually eat the wild fruit he always brought me.Deosknows where they’ve been.
“I’m still thrilled to see you,” I tell him. “Shamefully so. I think you might just be my favorite living thing. Don’t tell my husband,” I add in a semi-conspiratorial whisper, like I’m telling him some important, secretive bit of information.
I snicker to myself, remembering Val’s superstitious warning to not say things you wouldn’t wish others to hear in front of an animal. The bird looks at me curiously, head turned in that quizzical manner, black orbs sparkling with something disturbingly human—amused.
“Maybe I shouldn’t have told you that. My dear husband seems to think it’s ill advised to bare one’s secrets to an animal, lest the ability to shift has returned. Very unlikely if you ask me.”
Humor increases in those large black eyes. Entirely too knowing. He’s an insightful fellow, I can tell.
“You should meet my husband,” I slur. “Valledyn. You remind me of him. Kind of serious. A little pushy.” The owl nips at me lightly with his beak again. Making a point. “Fine. A lot pushy, apparently. Both of you. Maybe I should march across the hall, introduce you two. Tell Val that I’m keeping you. And I hope his superstitions aren’t true. Otherwise, I’d be downright mortified.”
He leans forward, down to my left hand resting on the windowsill and nuzzles at my silvervinculumband. Affectionate, but far less intense than the last time.
I laugh, messy half-do ruined and damp in the summer humidity, sticking to my neck. “That seems like encouragement. And here I thought you were trying to keep me for yourself.”
Something constricts my lungs, thieving my humor from the moment.
Maybe Ishouldgo to Val. It would be so easy. To creep across the hall silently, anticipation bubbling in my stomach and lightening my steps—hastening them.
