A Cold Bird

If she pressed her side to the glass of the cottage window, she could feel some warmth from the crackling fireplace seep into her body. The avem shuddered, huddling against the glass and cringing away from a sudden gust of piercing cold wind. Her blue and yellow wings ruffled in response. The feathers provided some protection, but not enough to give her even remote comfort.

Gaile had been faring just fine on her own until the arrival of winter. Everything change. Making it day to day became a challenge. The wish-come-true freedom granted to her morphed into a nightmare.

Although it sickened her to think about it, she almost began to prefer the cage a deplorable human had kept her in for years. Her time in captivity had weakened her. Without regular flight, her wings had lost strength. Even worse, she was not accustomed to such a frosty environment. Still, she decided that anything was better than living as a prisoner--even less than a prisoner, a trinket. Her former master had never found her, and she suspected he had given up. It had been months since she was set free. Being the traveler her was, he must have moved on.

The gust of wind died down, and Gaile raised her head. Her bleary gaze focused on the interior of the cottage. The sight of the cozy living area held a stark difference compared to the white, dead landscape of the woods she had come to call home.

A shiver ran through her--and she couldn't blame it on the cold. The owner of the cottage was seated in an armchair by the fireplace, leafing through a book. An empty armchair sat across from him--always empty. There was little reason to fear the man, but she couldn’t help but be on edge at the sight of any towering human after what she went through.

The man knew of her presence in the woods, but never pursued her. The first time he had spotted her was the worst instance. She was sure he was going to hunt her down for himself or sell her back to her old master. But when she fled, he hadn’t followed.

On the rare occasion that he caught sight of her, he only stared in quiet fascination for a few moments before going back to his own business. That, or she would flee first.

By some unspoken agreement, they were content to leave each other to their own devices. Even if Gaile wanted to communicate, her knowledge of the common tongue was laughable. Years of being around grabby humans hadn't changed that.

Another gust of wind surged around her. She squeezed her eyes shut and pressed herself harder to the window pane. It was beginning to be too much. Her chest heaved with shaky breaths, laced with pitiful whimpers.

A dreadful sensation caught her attention amid the cold: the feeling of being watched.

She looked up to peer through the window. Sure enough, the man had his brown-eyed gaze fixed on her. They regarded each other for a few long moments, neither making a move. There was no telling what was going through his mind. She was certain the look on her face made it perfectly clear that she was debating on whether to fly off and brave the cold. Such a risk would be worth it, if it meant being out of sight.

Before she could make any hasty decisions, the human averted his gaze and looked back down at his book. He flipped the page as if nothing of particular interest had occurred. Gaile sighed in relief, grateful she wouldn’t have to flee the only source of warmth for miles.

The minutes dragged on. Evening stretched into nighttime. With each freezing moment that passed, Gaile found herself becoming more and more numb. She wasn’t aware of when her vision dimmed, nor when everything went black as she slumped against the window.

~~~

Only one sensation was clear to her when her senses returned: warmth. It was the kind she hadn’t experienced in weeks. The kind she hadn’t appreciated until the winter season had rolled in an drowned her in cold. She would not dare take warmth for granted ever again.

The next sensation she was aware of was softness. It was foreign. Nothing in the woods was that soft, and she was certain she hadn’t experienced such comfort from her days in the cage.

A groggy sigh passed her lips. She turned among the folds of her comfy environment, prepared to sink back into the bliss of sleep once more. The crackling of a nearby fireplace didn’t catch her attention, but another sound did.

A page turned.

The avem went rigid. Her eyes snapped open as she sprung up. She was bundled in some kind of thick cloth, resting upon a surface away from the ground. A glance straight up made her stomach churn; she couldn’t see the sky. She was in the human’s cottage!

Blinking, she focused her gaze straight ahead and wished she hadn’t. The human sat across from her in his armchair, still immersed in his book. She clamped a hand over her mouth to muffle a gasp, not wanting to alert him that she was wide awake.

He didn’t look up.

It was surreal to view him from her position, after having seen him from the angle of the window for hours. The thing she sat upon must have been the cushion of the spare armchair.

Gaile calmed down, lowering her hand from her mouth. It was the longest period of time she had stared at the human without fleeing or even looking away. His black hair was shaggy, framing his fairly young face in a messy manner. Even though his brown eyes were not pointed at her, she suppressed a shiver at the sight.

A particularly loud crackle from the fireplace made her flinch. She snapped out of her staring and focused instead on the dangerous situation she was in. Getting outside was the top priority. The window looked shut tight from where she  sat, but she had to try. If it made the difference between getting captured again, she would fly up the smoky chimney if she had to. The human had ignored her so much in the past months. The unspoken agreement of no contact was shattered by his decision to bring her into his home. Now all predictability was gone, and she couldn’t afford to linger.

It was ridiculous to think that the human could hear the shuffling of cloth over the sound of a fire. Gaile moved with careful precision anyway. After all, movement in the man’s peripherals could catch his attention as readily as noise. Her goal was to get the blanket completely off her, so she could make a mad flight to the window. The cloth was tucked around her wings, and i would be difficult to get it off with minimal movement. She tore her eyes away from the man to look over her shoulder, trying to push the cloth off.

When she glanced up from her progress, the human’s gaze was no longer on the book, but aimed right at her.

Gasping in alarm, she did the exact opposite of what she had been trying to do--she buried herself back into the blanket. It hit her a moment too late how foolish her action was. She should have gone for the window when she had the chance! Now the human was surely ready to react if she tried to flee. Her own heavy breathing in her ears, she tried to make herself as small as possible among the folds of the cloth.

A thudding sound nearly made her heart stop altogether. The man walked toward her, footsteps muted by the rug. The armchair shook all the same. His voice followed. The tone was not alarming or threatening, but she clenched her jaw anyway. She couldn’t understand him, though she caught and understood a few words--”alright” and “safe.” Comforting words. Or at last an attempt at them.

Before Gaile could ponder any sort of honesty in his voice, something surrounded her from the outside of the blanket. Something warm on either side of her, prodding and pinching at her protective barrier. His hands, she realized with a start.

A squeak flew past her lips as she squirm about. She wasn’t even sure what she was trying to do--burrow deeper, or free herself? Nothing would change the fact that the human had her surrounded by his monstrous, confining hands. He was going to grab her. He was going to pick her up with that fascinated look all humans got when they saw her. Then he would keep her trapped, or realize her potential as a moneymaking oddity.

He muttered something. Probably chastising her about how unhelpful she was behaving.

The blanket shifted around some more, and without warning, the section above her head lifted away to expose her terrified face. She met the sight of fingers around her. Jolting in the direction of the backrest, she was ready to dig herself back down, but something made her pause.

The human pulled his hands away.

Shivering despite the warm cloth around her, she dared to raise her eyes to his face. He knelt in front of the armchair, putting her closer to eye level. He looked fascinated, as expected, but there was something familiar in his expression. Gaile remembered when she was freed from her master. A young woman had been the one to steal the cage from the caravan, taking Gaile into the woods and insisting she fly off. The look on this man’s face bore some of the same concern. A strange sort of kindness that she couldn’t bring herself to trust.

Her shoulders slumped, and she turned her longing gaze to the window. The man’s voice pulled her back. There was question in his tone. She gave him a blank stare in response, and he pointed to the window with raised eyebrows. The gesture made her frown in confusion.

Fabric shifted around her again. The hands returned. Gaile cried out, wings fluttering madly as she tried to get away. The cloth bunched around her, confining her in its warmth. The human didn’t pluck her from the blanket, but scooped her up along with it, cupped in his hands.

The man stood. She grabbed fistfuls of cloth as air whooshed around her. He strode toward the frosty window, his footsteps shaking through her more than ever. The cupped hands shifted beneath her so that one remained. The other soared over her head to unlock the window and push it out a bit. Eager cold air swirled into the cottage.

The hand beneath her inched toward the open window, and the human’s voice entered the air along with the cold. She recognized one word among the rest of the nonsense: “go.” The woman that had freed her from the gaze said exactly that. Albeit, more forcefully.

But all the same, it was an offer to let her leave.

His free hand entered her vision. She held perfectly still as he pulled the section of cloth that hung on her wings. Her mind raced with disbelief. It would be easy. She could just fly off and never come near him or his cottage again.

Swallowing hard, Gale looked over her shoulder. The man still wore a look of concern. It was different from the one the woman had worn. Chances were, he didn’t want her to leave. And as the cold began from the outside began to seep into her bones, she wasn’t sure was so anxious to take off into the night, either.

Before she could change her mind, she lowered her gaze and shook her head. She dared to trust, knowing the weather would be far less merciful than the human who had her within his grasp. “No,” she muttered.

A few silent moments dragged between them. The free hand reached toward the window again and pulled it shut. Not long after, he deposited her on the armchair cushion again. She burrowed back into the blanket to settle down for the night, throwing an uncertain look at the human. His eyes flicked up for only a moment before returning to his book.