Episode Eleven

Tr'lia got used to the smells faster than she'd expected. Her curiosity over Mr. Steen's specimens helped, kept her mind distracted, focused. After the first day she learned to keep one eye on the cages at all times, and now she walked with a permanent tilt to the head, with her neck twisting to whatever side the wall and the banks of glass domes were on. 

It carried over to home sometimes, and her parents had taken to tsking when they caught her looking suspiciously at the walls. "It's not becoming," her mother complained. "How will you ever find a mate walking around with your head to one side?"

Tr'lia only fluffed at the reprimand and did her best to keep work at work, but Mr. Steen had so much to teach her. He had plants she'd never even heard of, and though she never lost her respect for the threat they posed, her intellectual interest eased any fear she'd carried into the chemist's cave. She studied the books he assigned late into the night, and spent long days grinding his powders and learning to weigh and measure with absolute precision. 

Which should have distracted her from pining for black feathers and a green crest. She had so little time to think, and yet, somehow those moments when she could breathe filled quickly with ideas of P'rao, with wondering what his work looked like, where he flew, and whether or not he'd been sent into danger. 

Working with the aerie chemist every day, her mind was often focused on danger.

"T'rlia, child. Have you ground that violensis yet?" The old quail's voice reverberated through the cave. For an aging bird, Mr. Steen had a fair set of pipes. The acoustics in his laboratory vug helped too, and T'rlia cringed at the volume and clacked her beak. 

She'd had to learn not to use it for stirring or grasping, a hard reflex to kill but one that could be fatal when dealing with the chemicals they used. Her toes clutched the pestle and mortar of violensis powder, nearly done, and her beak remained idle... also dangerous. The quail's fussiness got on her nerves, and she didn't want to lose her job by talking back or arguing. 

"Nearly done." She sang it to the back wall. "Just a few more spoonfuls left."

Mr. Steen waddled to the front of his cave anyway. He stood beside her while she finished, standing on one foot and then the other and making a churring sound in his throat that set her hands to shaking.  When she handed him the bowl of powder, he focused one eye on it and squinted. 

"Eh." His crest bobbled. "Nice and fine... almost uniform." 

Tr'lia knew better than to thank him. She'd had to stifle that reflex as well, as any response to a compliment from the chemist usually led to a lecture on the finer points that she'd yet to master. 

"Do the bloomifer next. Medium grade, eleven grams and not a grain more."

"Yes, sir." She bobbed her head and searched the worktable and the supplies he'd readied for her day's work. "I-I'm not seeing any bloomifer."

"Use the tongs." Steen called over his shoulder. "Three leaves. Very carefully."

Tr'lia's breast fluttered. He wanted her to harvest them? The quail's fat backside vanished back into his lab, rocking with his usual trundling gait. If he suspected her hesitation, it didn't show. He'd given the order matter-of-factly, as if she had been harvesting the plants directly this whole time. 

Was he testing her? 

She plucked the tongs from her table and hopped off the perch. She'd seen him do it, of course. He'd pointed out the steps, demonstrated the technique and taught her ways to distract the plant while he snipped a leaf here and there. 

But she'd never opened one herself. Never been allowed to touch the glass domes. 

The cave floor felt gritty, covered in a find sheen of dust particle s. Tr'lia's claws scritched at it as she hopped to the front most portion of the cave where the banks of plants made a museum of danger and a deterrent to any visitors aside from Steen's delivery men. 

Those came at sporadic intervals, most wearing vests like P'rao had worn. Tr'lia sighed and shuffled her way to the bloomifer domes. At least he hadn't sent her for Violet Death. Those nasty plants all crowded to the glass as she passed, tasting their walls as if they could get at her, a threatening gesture and one she believed was intentionally so. 

The Night Blooms had fewer tendrils, and the main stalk shaped into a sort of indigo funnel. They had less mobility than the violensis and primarily waited for things to happen along and fall into their open maw. Tiny hairs lined that, assisted the descent of any bug or critter unlucky enough to slip inside. The base of the funnel had a crown of fat whitish-green leaves, and it was these that Mr. Steen would need for his powders. 

Tr'lia used the long tongs to pry the dome cap loose, but she left it in place while she reached for a vial of fruit flies. Steen kept dozens of colonies of feeder insects. He'd shown her how to distract the plant, how to shake the vial over the funnel mouth in offering while her tongs robbed the plant of its treasures. He hadn't, however, warned her about her nerves, about how her wingtips would shake and fumble. 

She lay the tongs in reach beside the enclosure and lifted the cap from the bloomifer's cage. Her other wing tightened around the flies, but the vial still trembled in her grip. Instead of shaking a few free, a wad of writhing wings and legs tumbled into the cage. Only half of them landed inside the funnel. The rest dispersed instantly, swarming over the leaves she needed, the damp moss, and soil substrate below. 

"Oops." Too many bugs. Too many tiny bodies climbing the walls toward escape. "Oh no."

The flies swarmed up the glass, and Tr'lia scrambled to replace the top of the dome. Glass met glass, ringing a low echo through the cave. The lid slipped, teetered on the cage rim and left a winking gap to tempt the flies. All the while, the funnel's hairs rippled and drew the few unlucky bugs down into the depth of the plant. Tr'lia still had no leaves, the digestion wouldn't keep the plant busy much longer, and her grip on the dome slipped and risked dropping the glass to the floor. 

"Oh, tail feathers!"

"Easy." Out of nowhere, a new voice answered her curse. A black wingtip reached from the cave behind her to steady the teetering glass. "Got it." 

"Thanks." Tr'lia took advantage of the unexpected assistance and released the cap to the interloper's grip. She snatched up her tongs and stoppered the flies' vial at the same time, laying the latter beside the bloomifer cage and pointing the tongs toward the cap. "Can you crack it, just a little?"

On command the dome lid slid, just a fraction, to one side. She moved as quickly as her shaking wings would allow, determined now that she had an audience. Tr'lia used the tongs to herd the flies back down the side, then she plucked a white-green leaf and removed it, diving back in as soon as she'd lain it beside he cage. Once she'd retrieved all three of Steen's precious leaves, she nodded and let out an exhalation laced with the last dregs of her panic. 

"That's good. Thank you." Her knees popped when she relaxed them. Her heart pattered, but the job was done. She had three leaves and a safely re-covered cage... thanks to the assistance of whoever waited behind her now. "I'm sorry, I..."

Tr'lia turned while wiping her wingtips on her smock. She froze at the sight of the delivery bird, at the sheen of his black feathers and the overly-amused tilt to his green head. 

"P'rao." Her breath rushed away with his name. 

"I've got something for you." His round eyes flashed with mischief, and his slender beak slid top against bottom to punctuate the sentence, make the tone carry all sorts of implications. 

"You do?"

"A delivery for Chemist Steen." P'rao snapped upright, stretched his milker's vest and waved one wing in the direction of a new box waiting on the cave floor behind him. "Priority  package."

Again his beak ground out an innuendo. Tr'lia's cheek feathers fluffed. She bobbed an answer, but her words had formed a clay lump in her throat. 

"Then," Pr'ao leaned closer, brought his plumage directly into contact with hers. His beak hovered beside her cheek, and his voice dropped down an octave. "I'm going to search your aerie for the hen I'm in love with."

The blockage in her throat shattered, came out as a choked cackle. Her feathers prickled from head to tail, but Pr'ao only leaned nearer, drew the very tip of his beak through the feathers on her neck. 

"I don't suppose you can tell me where she's hiding?" He whispered. "Because this is the last place I'd expected to find her."

"Maybe." Tr'lia's voice squeaked, and she had to swallow and start again. "Maybe she's waiting for you somewhere... somewhere you're likely to turn up."

"Ah." He stepped away so quickly that his body made a vacuum, pulled her in his direction so that she teetered and had to spread her wings for balance. "Good thinking."

"What?" 

The cave began to spin as he hopped away. He paused for a second beside his delivery, just long enough to look back over his shoulder and wink at her again. Then his eyes flashed, he dipped into a too-formal bow, and leaped out of the cave. 

Tr'lia swayed in place. What had just happened? I'm in love with? Too fast, and yet, her feet longed to rush to the cave mouth. Her beak wanted to chirp for him to come back. When a green and black streak, flashed past the mouth of the chemist's vug, her heart rocketed with it. 

Pr'ao's voice called to her, far too amused with itself. He offered one last taunt before he vanished again, leaving her frustrated and completely in the dark. "Very good thinking!"

Episode Eight

P’rao adjusted his angle and dropped like a stone until his talons just hovered over the wispy grasses. He flexed his claws and twisted to see Meech on his right, just now descending to a skimming altitude. Beyond his friend, the green wall that marked the edge of safe territory loomed. Glossy leaves waved, snapping like deadly flags and gleaming in the low sunlight.

Death waited just inside, and it meant to spread if they let it.

His claws tightened, snagging a tuft of errant grass and ripping the twisty roots free from their territory. He liked that sound. It reminded him that the plains were free and safe to his people. It reminded him that they had a hand in keeping things that way.

Meech tore at his own tufts, and they filled their claws with the strands until they could hold no more. When they angled up, the two milkers left a clean swath of dirt in their wake, a long strip of fresh border to keep the Master plants out.

P’rao cawed and lifted into the warmer rays. He fluffed at the shoulder and enjoyed the warmth alongside his small triumph. They weren’t actual milkers just yet, more like juniors in training, but their horizon was as bright as the desert behind them. Eventually, they’d brave the jungles with the rest of their kind.

And what would Tr’lia think of that?

He clicked his beak and snapped his long flight feathers, banking sharply toward the baskets where the grasses were collected. Once they’d been safely uprooted, the aeries had many uses for the sparse fibers—not the least of which was nest building.

Meech was right, damn it. He had mating on the brain. Mating and a bright yellow breast that might not relish the idea of him sneaking into Master plant territory.

“You missed, idiot!” Meech squeaked at his shoulder. “You dropped that load back on the ground.”

“Huh?” Prao twisted his neck around and spied his mistake. The cart minder already pecked at his lost strands, stuffing them into the basket and murmuring curses in his direction. “Ooops.”

“I can’t imagine what distracted you.” Meech waited for him to bristle, and when he refused added softly, “or who.”

The stork at the cart bounced on long legs and clapped at them, but P’rao angled again, circled wide and then dove in for another pass along the border. He flattened his quills tight and streaked far enough ahead of Meech that he didn’t have to hear his friend’s grumbling.

His second pass ended with both his fists overflowing with grass. He’d stretched his claws a bit, but this time, the fibers ended up neatly where they belonged, the cart minder ignored his delivery and Meech kept his beak shut.

The grasses always invaded first. Invisible roots wriggled out from the jungles, hidden beneath the hard-packed plain and only bursting into view when their sub structure was well established. They opened the way for the higher ups, for the plants that could use their nodes and pathways to organize, to plan a more significant advance.

A bare border was a safe one, and P’rao dove again with his resolve set even more firmly. They kept the plants at bay. They trimmed to borders, and eventually they’d brave the long flights over the jungle, the dangerous missions into the heart of Plant territory to retrieve medicines, fruits and seed for domestication and controlled food production.

Their lives depended on this much. All their lives and any future he might hope for. He made two more passes to Meech’s one and then tucked wing and dropped behind the line of carts for a drink and a moment’s rest.

The grass carts filled slowly. This stretch of boundary had been weeded only a few weeks prior. Their team had been assigned for maintenance more than anything, but still they found spiky grasses wandering into their world.

 P’rao drank from the minders’ buckets, leaned against the back of one cart and watched the Rhino beetle in the traces of another shift its weight from one leg to the next. It’s gigantic, domed carapace shimmered like the distant leaves. Emerald green, metallic and harmless compared to the foliage it resembled. Even with the heavy horn protruding from the beast’s head.

Meech landed between them, his dust puffs blocking out any further view of the draft beetle. P’rao ignored his grimace, the nasty clacking of his friend’s beak. He let his gaze drift instead out toward the jungle in the distance. The green wall shimmered in the sunlight, but just then, something about the way the fronds moved spoke of more than hot air and unreliable vision.

He stood up and craned to see better, bouncing and arching his wings for takeoff.

“Where are you…” Meech started a question, but the words died as quickly as P’rao’s intended flight.

The both froze and listened to the jungle howl. The cart minders stopped fidgeting. The flights still in the air banked away from the green swath, from the wall that trembled and danced now, screaming and hissing at them in the frenzied speech of many joined plant minds. A wave rolled across the leaves, down the horizon in one serpentine ripple. The scream rose in volume, and the foliage broke at the top.

One, giant green orb lifted from the canopy. It snaked straight up on a fat stalk lined with wispy hairs. The cranium twisted, turned left and right and then focused on their position. Even at this distance, P’rao judged just that head to be four times his size, at the very least. The sight of it set his plumage spiking. His beak ground together at the same instance the Master plant opened its huge, sticky maw and howled its fury to the sky.

NEXT EPISODE

Episode Seven

She tugged on a bit of grass, and the strands parted from the mat, pulling free. Tr’lia held the smaller bit in her beak and hopped two bounces to the right. The fiber had cost her the rest of her festival money, and it wasn’t very good quality at that, but it would do for a start. She used her clawed toes to twist the strands and then poked with her beak so that the tight end joined the weaving she’d already begun on the cave floor.

She’d never made a nest before.

It looked awful, just a clump of half-twisted, dry old grass half as big as it should be for the time it had taken. Tr’lia sighed and pulled at a corner. The bottom needed to be the stoutest, even though she planned to add a good deal more fibers to its construction to hide the rugged beginnings. Her nest would need a firm foundation if she meant it to last. She tucked and tweaked and fiddled with the last bit before bouncing back to the fiber bundle. More layers might do it. More depth, and then it needed to be a lot bigger—big enough for two someday.

She stabbed the pillow again and clicked around, feeling for a stouter blade, a reed that might reinforce her nest’s bottom. A squeak from the cave mouth stalled her probing and brought her up sputtering. Lili. It was only a matter of time.

“Hello,” Tr’lia ignored the puffed up blue ball of indignation in her doorway. She turned back to her next selection and waited.

“Your. You.”

She felt a thicker stalk and snapped it up. Eureka, the blade had a woody, rounded stem, and pulled out a good two spans longer than the rest. Strong floor material.

“Yourmothersaidyouwerenesting!”

“Oh.” Tr’lia nearly dropped the blade for chuckling. “That. Right.” She hopped to the nest and tucked the thick end into one side. Long enough to criss-cross the bit she’d already woven at least. She wouldn’t have to undo it and start over, though she might need to trade for something extra pretty to hide it.

“And?” Lili recovered and hopped into the cave interior. The space barely held both of them. Starter caves were meant to be cozy. “Does your mother know why?”

“Shush, Lili.” She stood up too fast and pulled out the last two loops of grass. “You promised to keep that quiet.”

“I know.”

“Good.”

“Weren’t you even going to tell me?” Lili’s feathers smoothed, halving her bulk, and she shuffled her feet against the stone floor.

“Of course. I just wanted to have something to show you first.”

“Is that it?”

“It’s harder than it looks.” Tr’lia sighed and worked the tail of the grass into the weave. “And I’ll hide most of this with feathers. It just has to be strong.”

“I can’t believe your mother let you start.” Lili pressed forward and examined the nest's beginnings, head turned sharply to one side and beak grinding together softly.

“It’s only a little bit early. They’ve had the cave since my hatching day.”

“Mine too. It’s nice, Tr’lia.”

“It’s really small.”

“Mine’s smaller.” Lili clattered her beak and bobbed her head forward and back. “I’d better find a tiny little man.”

The cave warbled with laughter. Tr’lia tried to eye her work critically, but it blurred a bit around the edges. She’d always thought Lili would nest first. It just seemed like a Lili sort of thing, nesting. She sighed and shifted her weight to the other foot. It was only a little bit early.

“You know,” Lili said. “I have some ribbons saved. There’s too much to use in one place. You could have a little bit for the sides or around the top.”

“Thanks, Lili.”

“Maybe I’ll start one soon too.”

“Hopefully yours will weave a little better. Look at that bubble.”

“It’s nice, Tr’lia.”

It wasn’t. Still, she’d only just started. Building the nest would keep her busy, keep her mind from thinking of killer plants and long-distance romance. She fluffed and shook the tension off. He’d said he was coming back. He’d said he’d find a way to see her. She looked at Lili through a rain of dislodged down and tried not to panic.

And if P’rao did return, at least she could have something here for him to come back to. She snagged a bit of fluff from mid-air and waved it at Lili.

“Help me grab this. We can use it to cover up the bottom.”

                                                                            Next Episode

Episode Six

P’rao waited for them under the bleachers. Tr’lia landed on the highest perch, three beats before Lili’s impact rattled the dried timbers. She saw him twist his neck up, caught the flash of green in the shadows.

He had a glow bug lantern, but shielded it with his wing so that this corner of the arena remained nearly pitch black, lit only by a few distant stars and the thin slip of the small moon. Trl’ia saw him though, before the light dimmed beneath his mantle, and she felt the look as if it were a warm updraft.

“Wait here, Lili. Keep an eye out.” Tr’lia hopped from the stands. She heard Lili’s protest, but ignored the clacking and kept her eyes riveted on the valley floor. He waited just there, and so she’d land gracefully right about here.

The dust puffed a bit more than she planned, but in the low light, who would see if her tail was a bit fouled? She straightened her neck into a tall curve and tilted her head to one side, fixing a single eye on the darkness where she knew he stood.

“Hello, Tr’lia.” He hopped out so fast she stumbled back a step. Even so, he ended up very close beside her.

“H—hello.” Her beak rattled, and she grabbed the bare ground with her claws to steady her nerves. “I. Your friend delivered your message, P’rao.” They’d never been actually introduced, and his name felt risky, like the bravest thing she’d ever said.

“Meech didn’t think you would come.” His wing twitched aside, letting the glow bugs light a circle around them. Her sash gleamed against his breast, under his milker’s vest. It linked them, somehow, that strip of her feathers against his. He slid one step back under the bleachers, and Tr’lia followed.

“Why did you want to see me?” She lowered her voice, took slow, small steps for each of his long ones. Still, they stood in the protection of the structure before she had time to think.

“Tr’lia,” Lili hissed overhead. “I can’t see you!”

“I wanted to see you again.” He ruffled, and his crest curled forward. “I just. It felt.”

“I know.” She’d felt it to, hadn’t she, that tremor of something larger in the market square, the sense of fate hanging over?

“The festival is almost finished.”

“Yes.” They only had one day of closing events before the booths would come down, the wood recycled or stored like the precious thing it was, saved for the next need. “Tomorrow.”

“I have to leave in the morning.”

“Huh?”

It came out louder than she imagined, and his crest slicked back down. He bobbled from foot to foot. Tomorrow. What could possibly be the point, if he was just up and leaving?

“I have a job at the edge the day after.”

“I see. Of course.”

“I want to see you again, Tr’lia.”

He’d barely seen her this time. Still, the idea warmed her enough to set her cheeks puffing. She shifted her weight from side to side, twisted her neck and thought about it.

“I’ll find a way to get back here between jobs.”

Milking jobs. That’s what he meant. He planned on going out into the jungle, into the thick, plant-infested strip along the border of their plain. He might easily not survive it.

“Is it very dangerous?” She hated how her voice trembled.

“Oh, it’s not too bad.” He purred it, smoothed the danger from the idea, but she knew it was. Of course it was.  When he hopped close to her side, Tr’lia leaned into him. “It would be better knowing I had something to fly back to.”

“Yes. I imagine it would.”

“Do you want me to?”

“Come back?”

“Yes.”

“Yes.”

Lili screeched down from the rafters, but her words flew wide. Tr’lia couldn’t hear a thing over her own heartbeat. A low breeze swirled around them, lifting the dust and a few stray bits of litter that danced down toward the market aisles.

P’rao slipped closer. Their wings brushed at the shoulder, and she let out a long breath. His neck curled. His beak clicked once and then ran a line along her neck feathers, ruffling them and sending trembles all the way to her little clawed toes. She warbled, way back in her throat, and heard P’rao’s answer, felt it vibrate in the air.

“Tr’lia!” Lili plopped to the ground beside the bleachers. Dust heaved into the air, blocking them long enough for P’rao to run his wingtip under hers, to stroke her side before sliding back a step. “Where are you? Someone is coming.”

“Here.” Her voice had little breath behind it. “I’m here, Lili, I’m fine.”

“Someone is…ooo!”

A second impact followed, and a scrabbling of claws and shadows. Tr’lia heard an “oof,” and Lili’s squeaking, but the dust swirled thickly now, and P’rao’s wing settled over her back. He pulled her farther into the shelter and hopped to block her from the ruckus.

“Lili!” She still had less voice than she’d hoped for.

“Take that!” Lili screeched and beat her wings at whoever had had the misfortune of startling her.

“Oof.”

“Meech?”

“Help!”

P’rao laughed, and Lili’s wings paused, still raised and ready to wallop the intruder. The dust settled leisurely, revealing a hunched over Meech, protecting his head with one wing and nearly kissing the dry ground. “Call her off!” He blinked against the rain of dirt and clattered his bill. “Someone shackle this harpy.”

Thump. Lili’s wing landed in his back. Tr’lia flinched as the poor cock toppled to his side, legs kicking.

“Stop it, Lili!” She brushed past P’rao and sidestepped into the open. The glow bugs came out again, making the dust a sheet that veiled the scene.
Lili’s blue feathers caked with the stuff. Her eyes blinked twice, “He called me a harpy!”

“Terribly rude of you, Meech,” P’rao chirped. He sounded far too tickled about poor Meech’s abused state. “You should apologize.”

“Me! She attacked me.”

“You landed on top of me!” Lili hopped into the air for emphasis.

“I didn’t.”

“Shhhhh.” P’rao mantled and hunkered down, swaying and stepping forward at the same time. The threat worked. Both Lili and Meech shut up long enough for the latter to flip back over and stumble to his feet.

Tr’lia chuckled and scuttled to P’rao’s side.

“Tr’lia,” Lili lowered her wings and sagged into a pout. “You look like a puff ball.” She squinted suspiciously at her feathers. They still prickled in all directions from P’rao’s attentions. “We should go before we get in trouble.”

 Go. The thought alone brought her plumage back to a normal state. She shivered against the next breeze, despite the warmth rising from the plain. He’d be gone in the morning.

“Tr’lia!” Lili whined, and hopped in place. Her nerves had just about failed. She’d be bolting to tattle next.

“Yeah. We should go.”

P’rao turned to face her, blocking them out and tilting his green head to one side. He warbled again, soft and just for her. She hopped forward, heard Lili’s clicking as his wings wrapped her in a quick embrace. His beak found her neck feathers again, nibbled at them once before he released her.

“Well,” Meech said. “So.”

P’rao backed away. He kept his eyes on her, though, “I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

Tr’lia could only nod. She held her breath as Meech bounced into the air. P’rao only hesitated a second before launching. His down stroke lifted the dust again, but not enough to block out his parting look.

“Oh, my…”

“Don’t say it, Lili.” She sighed and watched the dark shapes drift away. “Just don’t say a thing.”

Next Episode

Episode Five

She pressed her red bag higher up under her wing and hopped sideways toward the cave opening. From the side passage, the low whistle of her father snoring echoed against stone walls. The tunnels made him sound larger, more menacing than a squat sparrow with one gimpy wing.

Tr’lia held her breath and fought the urge to grind her beak. She’d wear the edge uneven, ruin her smile if she didn’t break the habit. Her nerves cared little for cosmetics. Her clawed toes scuffed the floor, flexing for a purchase and trying to keep silent in the process.

Two more hops would bring her to the mouth of their home. Beyond the irregular oval, an indigo sky sparkled with diamond stars. Shadows passed in the distance; some of the festivities still continued well into the wee hours, but they would be the more private kind—the kind her parents wouldn’t approve of.

She scuffed, and hopped again, and felt an cool eddy of night air swirling. Her claws flexed against the stone. The feathers on her cheeks puffed, and she sidled to the lip.

The wall of the aerie stood like a fortress against the plain. Their home opened out about three-fourths of the way up, just above the huge entrance to the flock’s secondary gathering cave. Tonight, no cackles sounded from below, however. Tr’lia could guess why. All the gathering was happening out on the festival grounds.

She grasped the very edge of the cave floor and peered down at the dance of glimmer and shadow. The booths all hung with billowing drapes, covered and waiting for dawn to break. The fabric rippled. She could see the movement, even from up here, and it spoke of crisp temperatures, moist air leaking off the distant jungles. The jungles where he worked.

A shiver wiggled from her scaly knees up to her wingtips. She ground her beak together and hugged the bag—and the scrolled message inside—closer. Her legs flexed and she pushed off, spreading her wings and catching the heat rising from the sun-soaked earth.

It buffered her. She shot up, streaking past cave mouths until the top of the plateau passed and the whole world spread below. The lights of glow insects dotted the grounds ahead, tiny now and barely moving.  Still, some revelers were about. A large cluster of lights shone at one end of the long arena. A few smaller ones centered on the open space in the heart of their makeshift market.

Tr’lia twitched her right wing and banked to the side, diving at the same time. The note had said the eastern end. He’d said to meet her there, opposite where the crowds were, where they’d be alone. Her back riffled and she wobbled in the dive, leveling out and making like an arrow toward dark end of the arena. Alone…with a milker.

She angled lower and felt the rush of air, the sweep of velocity across her feathers. Her mother would kill her if she knew.

A shadow crossed directly in front of her. Tr’lia squeaked and banked sharply away. She just knew, for one terrified breath, that her mother had found her, that her life was about to end. Instead, it was Lili’s voice that broke through her pounding heartbeats. It was Lili’s fat silhouette that joined formation at her right shoulder.

“Are you insane?”

“Go back to bed, Lili.”

“You can’t go alone, Tr’lia. What if he’s a creep?”

“Lili.”

“What if he kills you and drags you off to the Plants.”

“If I’m dead, I hardly think I’d mind.”

“You can’t go alone.”

She heard Lili’s beak click, and the sound soothed her nerves. She’d been half a wing-beat shy of chickening out as it was. With Lili along, nothing bad could happen—except Lili.

“All right, then. You come with me.”

“What?”

“Come on. You can keep an eye on us and if he does anything scary, go for help.”

“But.”

“I don’t want to end up in the jungle, after all.”

“Right.”

It was brilliant, actually. Lili could chaperone, and by coming along, she’d share the guilt for sneaking out. If she’d been tempted to tattle before, the fear of her own punishment should snuff the urge sufficiently. Besides, she’d be glad for the backup. Just in case.

“Down there.” Tr’lia snapped her own beak, loud and mostly to ease the nervous flutter in her craw. She didn’t wait for an answer, just dipped her bill toward the arena and dove straight for the meeting she’d waited the whole festival for. Tonight, with the dark stretch rising rapidly to meet her, she almost pulled up. She almost turned tail and flew straight back to her own perch.

It would have been the safe thing to do, but then, the safe thing didn’t include milkers at all.

Next Episode

Episode Four

A triangle formation swooped low over their perch. Tr’lia twisted her neck and arched back to examine the players. Not one of them had a shiny green head.

Beside her, Lili crunched a trio of jeweled crickets. Her bill snapped as she pulled each bug from the stick they’d been roasted on, and her eyes flicked between bites down to their table ring where the remainder of their weaving shimmered in the setting sunlight.

The festival only had two days left.

“Do you want this one?” Lili offered the stick and the last cricket, but Tr’lia shook her head.

“Go ahead. I’m still full of mushroom.” They’d eaten more fungus this week than she usually had in a month. “Who won today?”

“Northern Gulls.”

“Again?”

“The falcon squad from South Aerie almost had them, but one of their point’s was disqualified.”

“Oh.” Tr’lia shifted her weight to the other foot and tucked the tired one up into her downy belly. “did you see--.”

“No. Not today.” Lili rolled her eyes and downed the last bug. “Nor yesterday either. He wasn’t that cute Tr’lia.”

But he was. Not that she expected Lili to understand. Since that first meeting, Tr’lia hadn’t been able to think of anything but the milker. She considered it a bit disloyal that Lili could be so rude about it, but her friend’s patience had never exactly overflowed.

“Well, we’re almost sold out.”

“You can take tomorrow off if you want,” Lili tried. “Go wander around and see if you can find him.”

“I can’t do that.”

“Why not?’

“Because.” She sighed and fluffed her chest feathers. Her wings flapped a little with her mood. “It would look too desperate, Lili. If he wanted to see me again, he would have come by.”

“Stupid.” Lili hopped down from the perch, shaking the wood enough she had to put down both feet to cling to it. “He probably is working too.”

“Well he could have found a way.”

“Maybe.” Lili scuffed behind the booth, stirring up dust that they’d have to brush off the sashes later. “I don’t get why it’s so important. You don’t even know him. If you want to see him again, go find him.”

“Ha!” Tr’lia dropped down and went to work cleaning up Lili’s mess. The more she wiped, however, the more her friend’s pacing erased her efforts. “Stop fidgeting, Lili! You’re getting it all filthy.”

“And you’re being grouchy. Maybe they left already, Tr’lia. He’s a milker anyway. He was probably just messing with you, and you’re spoiling the festival for nothing!”

“What? Spoiling the—what?” She spun to face her little blue friend, and sent an even bigger cloud of dust across their wares. “I’m spoiling the festival?”

“Yes.” Lili held her ground. She puffed up, even though she stood only chest high, and stared up at Tr’lia without flinching. “We’ve been waiting for this forever, Tr’lia, and you’ve been pouting the whole time!”

“But. I.” Tr’lia felt her gullet tighten. She felt tears pooling, and ground her beak together to stall them. “You don’t understand.”

“I do too.” Lili deflated. Her feathers settled, though she didn’t exactly back down. “I do. But I don’t know how to make him come back, Tr’lia. And I want to enjoy this!” She swept one wing in an arc, over the table and smack into a black breast.

“Ooof.” It’s owner grunted and staggered back.

“Ooops.” Lili chirped.

The milker recovered and brushed at his vest. He had white bars on his wings, the grass vest, and the attitude, but his head was black and crestless. Tr’lia dropped her beak and brushed at the bags and sashes.

“Where’s your friend?” Lili blurted.

“Um.

“Lili!” Tr’lia’s cheeks blossomed.

“He’s working.” The milker said. “We’ve been swamped, couldn’t get away even for a second. P’rao tried, but it’s been crazy.” He reached into his vest and pulled out a scroll. “He hired me to send you this.”

“Why didn’t he just bring it himself?” Lili fluffed up again.

“Hush, Lili.” Tr’lia stared at the scroll and imagined what it said.

“One of us had to keep delivering, and he couldn’t hire himself.” He waved the roll of skin. “Don’t you want it?”

She nodded, but her wings wouldn’t work. In the end, Lili snatched it for her, glowering at P’rao’s friend until he took a step back.

“Thank you.” Tr’lia found her voice. She snagged the scroll from Lili before she could do any more damage. “Tell him thank you.”

“Just show up,” the milker said. He spread his wings and twisted his head to one side. “He’s driving me crazy.”

They watched him launch. His down stroke caked their wares in dust again, but Tr’lia hardly cared. She held the scroll between her wingtips and followed the milker’s flight until he dropped down between the booths and out of sight. P’rao. Her feathers trembled, nearly dropped the message.

Lili wasn’t having any of it. “Well,” she said.

“Well what?”

“Aren’t you going to read it?”

“What do you think it says?”

“I don’t know.” Lili shrugged and leaned against the counter. “But it better be good or I’m going to find that stupid milker and pluck him.”

“Lili!” Tr’lia laughed despite her nerves. The scroll felt heavy. It made everything suddenly very real and scary, but Lili wouldn’t wait much longer. She took a deep breath and pried the thing open.

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