Her heart pinched. “Can I at least get you more tea? Something to help your throat?”
He chuckled. “You may. The cinnamon was a nice touch.”
While she refilled his cup, she watched the birds fly around the redwood, as colorful as the paints sitting under a blank canvas across the room. Vade continued pacing, but at least he was quiet.
Orelia hurried back and handed the man his tea. “The birds are beautiful.”
“See that firetail over there?’ Devlin pointed at the yellow-bodied bird with long, orange tail feathers curling at the ends like ribbons. “That’s my brother.”
She perked up. “Your brother?”
He smiled fondly. “Us druids can take the forms of various animals in life, but death is reserved for birds. A reincarnation into the nature we come from, so that we may soar the skies and roam the world. A beautiful ending to a beautiful life lived.”
“I love that,” Orelia said. “Do you get to choose what kind of bird you become?” she asked as she sat on the edge of the bed.
His eyes drifted to the tree. “We do not get to choose, though I hope to become a white raven. Black is such a dreadful color.”
They both looked at Vade and chuckled. He stood with his arms crossed, decked in darkness, black eyes as angry as ever.
“Let’s go,” Vade said. “He’s at death’s door and can’t help us.”
“Better to be at death’s door arriving as a welcomed guest than an uninvited stranger, young man. You should get right with your gods.I’m sure Death’s Shadow has been close to meeting them more than once.”
Vade’s eyes narrowed.
“You know him?” Orelia asked, perplexed.
The druid smirked. “I have lived a long time, miss. I have heard the stories. The fae who left the Five Points to become an executioner. And a good one, from what I hear.”
Vade spun on his heel and threw out a, “Thanks for nothing,” over his shoulder.
Orelia gently squeezed the druid’s hand. “I am so incredibly sorry for him. Trust me, I wouldn’t be traveling with such a disrespectful person if I didn’t have to.”
He patted her hand. “He needs you more than he knows. He needs someone to show him the light, and I sense you can be that person.”
“I try, but it’s like telling a stone to become water. Impossible.”
Devlin pointed to the waterfall by the great tree and said, “Desintegra.”
Orelia watched as a stream of green light left his fingers and trailed through the air, landing on a stone on top of the waterfall. The stone crumbled as it fell, turning to dust before becoming a stream of water, joining the pool at the fountain’s bottom.
“Nothing is impossible, my dear. Don’t let life make you believe such falsities.”
Orelia grinned, picking up Bute’s jar and setting it on her lap. “Could I leave him here with you? I think he would love to makea home around this beautiful tree. His leg was injured, so I’ve kept him with me while we traveled, but he’s healed now.”
Devlin nodded. “It would be an honor to have him.”
Bute pressed his webbed foot to the side of the jar like he was saying goodbye. His hind leg was curled up nicely, he was alert, and the little frog had finally forgone his mossy hideout. He was ready, but Orelia wasn’t. She wiped at her blurry eyes.
“For a witch, you have the soul of a druid, my dear. We love and honor nature as best we can, and it makes my old heart swell to see someone not of my kind do the same.”
Orelia sniffled, smiling weakly.
“May I give you something in return?” he asked.
Intrigue had her nodding.
Devlin opened the drawer of his bedside table and pulled out a brown feather about the length of her hand. “This is from my favorite swift. I was the only one allowed to use him, and he delivered many, many messages for me over the years. I considered him one of my greatest friends.” He extended the feather toward her. “I’d like for you to have it.”
