It was met with a chorus of other screeches.
Again, I looked to the sky, this time to see a flock of twenty, maybe thirty of those same scrappy birds moving toward us as one.
“What in the…” Stefano muttered.
It struck me that they might be here to attack us, to try and make a meal of the humans sitting exposed on deck. But the bird in front of me seemed, I don’t know,relaxed,somehow.Did birds relax?
Stefano, Joris, and some of the sailors drew their weapons as the birds approached, fearing the worst. But the birds merely fanned out, slowed, and calmly found perches, some on the ship’s side, some up in the sails. Murmurs arose around us, words of wonders and confusion as the birds just…sat there.
The one before me continued to stare at me, and I finally extended my hand to touch its folded wing. It didn’t so much as flinch, letting me make contact with its crusty, veined feathers.
I pet it a few times before drawing away.
Stating the obvious, I said, “This isn’t normal.”
“No,” Joris confirmed.
Around me, every man was transfixed by the birds, the ship’s captain included. Well, everyone except for Stefano, who was watching me.
“I think you’re doing this,” he said slowly.
“Idefinitelyam not.”
“Your eyes are glowing.”
That wasn’t the first time I’d heard that. Still, I scoffed. “It’s the light.”
If they were glowing, I’d feel them glowing. Right?
But then Joris said, “It isn’t the light.”
I looked between the two of them, where they stood transfixed by my eyes. My attention went to the ball of warmth in my chest, which wasn’t flaring, but remained hot all the same. It was probably to blame.
“Whatever it is, I’m notdoingit. It’s just happening,” I defended.
The bird cocked its head as if to say,Is that so?
* * *
The port was nestled between two domineering cliffs, a handful of ship-laden docks and a small village situated at the base of a steep, grassy decline that broke the monotony of the vertical rock faces.
Aric’s second-in-command was waiting for us when we disembarked. While he was a shorter man, he looked every bit an intimidating warrior, black scaled armor hugging his muscular frame and weapons dangling from his waist. His pale, gray-tinged skin was marked with the occasional battle scar. Big brown eyes and a clean-shaven jaw made him seem no older than me, but closely cropped black hair, a stiff posture, and a stoic façade gave him a serious aspect, one I supposed was necessary for earning his position at his age.
His stoicism didn’t budge, not even as that strange flock of birds finally took to the skies. There wasn’t even a flicker of interest when we stopped before him and he saw my eyes.
Not that I was expecting him to faint in awe, but my eyes usually warrantedsomereaction.
“You’re early,” was his clipped greeting.
Harthon raised a brow. “Favorable winds.”
“No one has favorable winds.”
“Okay,” Harthon said with boredom.
Well, this wasn’t off to a good start.
“Consider yourself fortunate I arrived here early as a precaution. Our men may have assumed we were under attack.”
