The Dangerfields

Chapter Seven

At four o'clock exactly, later that day, we pull over to the edge of the road, where Ryder stands, leaning against the other ATV.

"You're right on time," He says lightly, looking at his watch.

I can see that this time alone has helped him, let him think. He still seems tired, but less stressed and uptight. More loose and content. I can still see the slight shadow of grief in his eyes, but he seems better overall.

Mom and I cried for a good twenty minutes earlier, and now that it is out of my system, I feel a lot better. Bottling grief seems easier when you're doing it, just set it aside to deal with later, but really, it hits you hard later. You can't even function when it hits.

I have no doubt that I will have more tears to shed over the lost, but later, and I'm not afraid to face grief anymore. Now I understand that it's healthy, and it will help me get over this loss. I would never forget it, because that would be cruel to their memories, but at the point where I can think of them and still be happy, that's where I want to someday end up.

I scoop up Alston to cuddle him, and Ash flies over to Ryder and settles on his shoulder. It's his favourite place to be, and Ryder is like his papa bird. Ash adores him.

About two years ago, Ryder found a nest on the ground, fallen out of the tree. Upon inspection, he realized that among the other two broken eggs was one that was unbroken. There was no mama bird in sight, so Ryder snuck the egg into his room and kept it warm for a few weeks until it hatched.

I was the first one to discover Ash, when I found Ryder bringing worms into the house. Grandpa heard us talking about the chick in the living room later, and went to Ryder's room and found Ash for himself.

We were afraid that Grandpa would make us put him back, but he let Ryder keep him, because Ash would've died without a mother. We did a ton of research to find out what kind of bird he is, and finally found out that he is a Willow Flycatcher.

He finished growing by that fall, and isn't very big, even now. Alston seems to only be about six months old, and isn't finished growing yet, but Ash is dwarfed in comparison. What Ash lacks in wingspan he makes up for in gut. He's a chubby little bird, but based on the pictures I've seen of others of his kind, most Willow Flycatchers seem to be. I think it's adorable, and Ryder doesn't care, and we've never had a problem with the little guy.

Ryder kept Ash's wings clipped for the first while so that he wouldn't fly away, but ended up teaching him, realizing that Ash wouldn't dream of flying away from him.

"Let's go," Ryder says, "We'll find a hotel to stay at tonight, and get something to eat. But after that, we can find somewhere else to stay. For tonight though, we'll treat ourselves to a bed."

"Sounds good to me," Mom says, looking a little excited at the thought of actual comfort, after days of sleeping on the ground.

We've gotten off the ATV by now, and I stretch, feeling all my muscles stretch, and some bones crackle after hours on the ATV. I agree with Mom; A bed would be amazing right now.

"What are we waiting for? Let's go!" I exclaim, eager to eat a hot meal and jump into bed.

Ryder laughs, "Alright, before you start jumping up and down with excitement."

I have to admit, he knows me. I was subconsciously bouncing on the balls of my feet, getting more excited by the second.

I calm myself, forcing my feet to stay still. I stroke Alston quietly as Mom and Ryder discuss which hotel would be the safest. A big hotel would be too flashy, but a tiny motel would be the first place the government would check. So, we settle on a smaller hotel a few blocks within the city.