Of Immortal Make

A Very Important Day: Part 3

Eloise left Nadiya in her bedroom in a whirl of skirts, instructing her to stay put until it was time to leave and promising that her favorite cake would be waiting when the family returned tonight.

Nadiya climbed onto her bed, placing the cattail next to her, and opened the brown package from Ansel. Inside was a small, hand-carved wooden eagle clutching a struggling fish. She grinned wickedly and ran to put the figurine on the shelf where she kept her collection of special treasures. Next to it she placed the cattail, positioning it near a piece of spotted eggshell that had fallen onto her balcony from the nest above, a broken stone revealing its inside that shimmered golden and pink, and a marbled turquoise bead with a turtle engraved in the center.

At the end of the shelf, hidden in an oaken box given to her by her father ("To keep your secrets safe!" he had exclaimed) was a battered, leather-bound sketchbook. She'd discovered it during one of her first adventures, forgotten—or lost—in the tall, craggy grass alongside the Wall in the West Defense District.

Within the book, with a meticulous hand and a discerning eye, an artist had captured the Wild. Some of the pages were beautiful—carefully drawn flowering fields, jagged mountain peaks, and cascading waterfalls. But much of it frightened her, too—hastily sketched beasts and creatures, frozen in time on a wrinkled page, that she couldn't bring herself to look at again.

Considering the contents of the book and where she had found it, she concluded that it must have belonged to a Hunter, one of the specially trained Good Citizens of the Colony who explore the Wild beyond the Wall and slay monsters that wander too close to home.

She tugged on the collar of her dress. Suddenly in need of fresh air, she walked to the window and pushed open one of the large panes. Her bedroom was on the second floor and had a small balcony that overlooked a sunny patch of garden and the ancient, twisted oak tree that she loved.

She closed her eyes and listened for the baby birds nested near the chimney above, but they were strangely quiet. Frowning, she stepped through the open window, careful to lift the hem of her dress. She crouched, back tight against the white brick, careful not to look down.

Holding her breath, she strained her ears, but still heard nothing but the breeze and chattering of a distant critter. She exhaled, brows furrowed, and willed herself to step closer to the edge of the balcony. She gripped the iron railing, knuckles white, and turned to look at the roof above. She couldn't see the nest from here, but sometimes caught a glimpse of Mama-Bird and her brilliantly camouflaged colors flying home to her chirping choir.

But still, there was nothing. Her heart sank. Maybe they've grown and flown off.

She turned to go back inside, but her eye caught something on the terrace below. A small, gray-pink form, lying still and alone, shattered like an overripe apple. A breeze ruffled the soft, downy feathers but did nothing else to rouse the baby bird. She gasped, her hands going to her mouth.

Just then, a light rapping on her door brought her back to the very important day.

"Come in," she choked, clambering back through the window.

The door opened and a short, stocky man with thinning, ashy hair and a face full of freckles stepped in. Gavin Blackburn was dressed modestly, but importantly, with a navy-blue sash across his chest and a golden brooch pinned to his tunic in the shape of a mountain.

"Pop!" she exclaimed and ran towards his open arms. He grinned, showing a row of crooked, white teeth, and hugged her tightly. He smelled of old leather and ink stains and the crumbly, yellow books he was always reading.

"Hello, birthday girl. How radiant you are!" he fawned, holding her at arm's length. "I hear you gave Ansel quite the workout today."

She bit her lip, waiting to be reprimanded, but instead he looked at her apologetically. "Ah, turtledove, I'm sorry we have to push back your birthday celebration. But it's not every day your own mother gets sworn in as Governor of the Colony!" He pushed a loose strange of hair behind her ear and focused on her face. "Is everything alright?"

She nodded, regaining her composure. "Is Mama coming with us?"

"She's going straight from Council. We'll meet her there."

Nadiya, disappointed, nodded again. "Elly said she made a cake for later."

Her father smiled, but his eyes told her his focus was elsewhere. "Of course she did, turtledove. Raspberry shortcake with extra-sweet icing. Enough to make the back of your mouth tingle. I simply cannot wait. But it's time we were off."

She followed him outside and they joined an escort of Patrollers in the garden, clad in their usual leather tunics, sword at their hips and a golden mountain peak stitched into the navy-blue bands worn around each arm. Their horses were saddled and waiting. 

Standing next to Eloise, who was fretting over forgetting to leave her apron in the house, was Ansel. She ran over and thanked him profusely for the birthday gift, and he winked and insisted it was nothing at all.

Nadiya stole a glance behind her, to where the tiny, unmoving form lay below her window. A lean, orange tabby slinked out from beneath an overgrown hedge and briefly locked eyes with her before making its way towards an easy dinner.

Nadiya quickly turned back around, gripping the reins of her pony. The troupe set off as, in the distance, the sun began to dip behind the Wall.