I shift my gaze to the rafters, raising a brow. “Is that an owl?”
She nods. “Scarlett found him last month with a broken wing.”
I’ve encountered plenty of wild creatures in my life, both in the Blacklands and during a decade of ranching, but it’s eerie to see all these birds in one space. All perfectly content to be indoors.
A blue finch flutters over our heads and settles on the ledge across the room.
“Do you release them into the wild after they’re healed?”
“Most of them, yeah. Unless Scarlett thinks they won’t survive out there. And some of them are just too stubborn to stay away. Like Buttercup.” Poppy grins up at a fat yellow budgie. “Every time we try to release her, she comes back. She’s stubborn. They all have their own personalities.” The teen’s cheeks are flushed again, this time with excitement. “See that raven over the door? That’s Didi. She’s such a troublemaker. Constantly bullying the others.”
I snort.
“And the sparrow at the window is Marvin. He thinks he owns the entire place. Super bossy.”
Without warning, the silent wren sails off her ledge and flies directly into my palm. I gape as she perches on the edge of my finger.
I turn to Poppy in amazement. “Do you think she knows my name is Wren?”
The teen stares at me for a second.
Then doubles over laughing.
“Of course she doesn’t,” Poppy sputters. “She’s a bird.”
Suddenly I’m howling, too, because…well…yeah. That was a stupid question. This is the first time I’ve felt relaxed enough to let down my guard and just break out in giggles, and we’re both panting by the time our laughter dies.
“I rescind the question,” I say primly. “Let’s pretend I didn’t reveal how gullible I can be.”
The bitchy raven—Didi—is now squawking and flapping her wings at Marvin the sparrow. She has way too much attitude for a bird. It’s impressive.
I extend my hand. “Want to hold her?”
Poppy’s smile fades. She shakes her head. “Not allowed to touch them. Scarlett’s rules.”
“Shit, then why did you let me?” I flick my finger, and the little wren flaps away, resettling on the window ledge.
We stand there for a moment, listening to the soft chirps and soothing fluttering of wings. These injured birds, flitting from one perch to another, the owl shuffling along the wooden beam along the ceiling…they seem so free, even here. Unburdened. I can’t remember the last time I felt unburdened.
“Do you come here every day?” I ask her.
“Not every day, but a lot.” She turns, and I follow her gaze out the window, where the mountain peaks loom in the distance, dark brown against a light-blue sky. “It’s peaceful. I can think here. Or when I’m gathering flowers. The quiet helps me clear my head.”
She hesitates, and I can tell she wants to keep going, so I encourage her with a smile.
“My mother is overprotective,” she finally says.
“I’ve noticed.”
“She’s too much sometimes.” Poppy’s features grow strained. “I can’t even leave the base for an hour without her linking with me, checking if I’m okay.”
Yeah, I noticed that, too. Her veins have been rippling on and off since we left the clearing. I assumed she was using telepathy, but her words confirm it.
“And the constant hugs andI love yous,” she moans. “It’s so suffocating—” She stops, visibly guilt-ridden. “Don’t tell anyone I said that.”
“I won’t. And I understand. I can see how it gets annoying.” I surprise myself by reaching for her hand, giving it a squeeze. “And, well, I’m not trying to invalidate your feelings, they’re totally valid, but…for what it’s worth…I would kill to have a mom, or any parent for that matter, who cared about me that much.”
Poppy frowns. “You don’t have parents?”
