Piosenniel
The moonlight did not hold. Clouds off shore were pulled in over the foothills by the rising temperatures as night inched toward day. Their guides called a halt when they were almost to the valley floor. ‘They way is too difficult without light; too many places where loose stone waits to throw the reckless walker from the unmarked path. We can rest here for a few hours,’ he went on, lighting the small candle lantern he’d pulled from his pack. The five travelers settled in on the small rocky ledge they’d been traversing, pulling their cloaks about them in the chilly breezes. One of the guides passed round a small skin of water. Hamar pulled a packet of thin, hard waybread from his pack and handed it about.
~*~
The time just before sunrise was quiet, with only the skitter of pebbles down the face of the hill as the travelers shifted, seeking comfort, on their rocky resting place. Baran had stayed awake during this enforced pause in their descent as had Pio. He was a massive presence beside her, impatient she thought to be on his way. She could hear him sniffing the air appreciatively, sorting out she supposed any familiar scents in the area and taking in those new to him. She smiled at the image his great presence conjured up and could almost imagine his inquisitive bear ears swiveling about to capture the night’s then faint sounds.
Just before first light, when the darkness seemed to her a little paler, a single voice slashed through the sky, echoing across the valley from the mountains. A series of sharp, insistent
screams rang in the higher air, and others took up the call. Both guides had now been roused from their doze, and peered into the lightening sky. ‘Eagles,’ one of them said in response to the Elf’s question about the sound. ‘They are claiming their home and the sky that surrounds it. Every morning they do this, though none that I know would dare dispute them. Look there!’
Across the valley a small dark speck flew high in the air. It rode the rising thermals in lazy looking glides, head cocked to watch the land below. Its flight was purposed, though, as they discovered, watching it glide closer and closer to where their little group now stood. Its gaze soon fixed on them, gauging their intent it seemed. ‘Sit down,’ their guides urged in whispering tones. ‘Sit down. She will see we mean no harm.’ Hamar crouched down, his eyes on the nearing bird. ‘How do you know that bird is female?’ he asked. ‘Because she is so large,’ came the guide’s hasty reply. ‘A male would be somewhat smaller.’ There was an irritated
tsk! as the Elf stood back up, her attention now fixed on the eagle.
Pio ignored the pulls at her robe and the pleas that she sit back down. There was something odd about that bird, something oddly familiar, as she had reached out gently to assure it they meant no harm. It was no ordinary bird’s mind with its quick darting thoughts and concerns. There was a high level of awareness and a stream of conscious thought that told her the bird was speaking to herself, considering on different levels who these intruders might be. The Elf sensed a question from the bird, who now hovered near the group as she glided in a small spiral. Pio shrugged her shoulders and shook her head. She could not understand what the bird wanted to know. Narrowing her eyes, she reached into her memory for something Cami had once told her, or something she had read in her old friend’s diary.
There it is! she thought to herself. The eagle turned abruptly at the far end of its glide. The
whump of its wings against the air grew louder as it moved nearer. Old words of greeting were sent out, ones that Bird had gifted to Cami long ago, spoken silently now by the Elf. ‘If you ever meet another skinchanger, speak this in greeting. It will let them know you are a friend.’
The eagle screeched loudly, extending its talons forward as it swooped toward the group on the ledge, wings beating hard to guide its rapid descent. Pio stood still as the bird drew near. From behind her she could hear the gibbering of the two guides, huddled now beneath their cloaks and a few choice imprecations directed her way from Hamar . . .