Hunter's Fowl; Starling

Renewal

"You thought I was dead, Cranedge?" he said. I hid behind the door, "You don't have to hide. I know you're there." I didn't move.

"What's it saying?" The judge asked. "Do any of you understand it?"

"I do," me, Taylor, and my sister replied. My sister finished my sentence. "He said our name." I grabbed her hand and held it tight, stepping out.

"I'm unarmed, Blackwood, what do you want from me?"

"You know why I'm here."

"No I don't!"

"I'm here because you're here, without your sword. I have mine. I have many." Blackwood tore off his cloak to reveal what he really was.

He had a belt that went from his hip to his shoulder, and iridescent black scales that shined in almost every color like a pigeon's feathers. I thought he was a monitor lizard until I saw the color. He had two rows of feathers running down his back, spines in between them. His chin was elegantly feathered and he bore a silvery circlet on his head, etched with diamonds. He put down his walking stick and walked to me on all fours, no longer grimacing. He was the height of a Great Dane, but the length of a saltwater crocodile. "I am a drake," he said, "Ever wondered what we look like?" He had two great horns upon his head. He growled, and the whole place seemed to shake. It was throaty and it changed in volume and tone whenever a ball of saliva bubbled in his mouth.

Taylor's mom hid behind me, and screamed at the creature lurching towards us. I shielded us just in time. As the judge stared in sheer amazement and horror, I could see that Blackwood had recoiled and grabbed his stick and cloak and disappeared.

We walked in again and saw that the entire jury was asleep. The judge was pale in horror. "You can go. Ma' am, your visa will be renewed."

*****

As expected, when the judge told the reporters what he'd seen, he wasn't believed. He retired from law and eventually opened a little coffee shop down the road from our farm. Whenever I walked in, he shuddered but greeted me warmly anyways, likely from respect that this puny-looking boy could fight off a dragon. Well, sort of. Not *quite* a dragon.

But I still shook in my shoes at his thought, like a soldier who is seeing his kids for the last time.

*****

I didn't see Blackwood for a while afterwards. September passed- then October, November- I forgot he was even alive anymore. It was December before I knew it. My mom was preparing food for Christmas dinner, something hard, since I was pescatarian and don't eat eggs. This was not out of fear for the animals, more so my friendship with them.

Farm animals were illiterate and rude in their ways, communicating generally, through a series of loud grunts and whistles. What rare words they utter are strained, generally of one of the following:

- Hello
- Bye
- Yes
- No
- Go Away (or other versions of this phrase I deem far too inappropriate for me to write)

Pets are often the same way. Sometimes, people bring me their dogs, but, since humans have bred many to have large, floppy lips which make speaking clearly impossible. Golden Retrievers tend to just say "Happy? Happy! Happyhappyhappyhappyhappy!" Sheepdogs can talk well enough, but their words are slurred as if they're drunk. Huskies, as being closer to wolves in every possible way except temperament, tend to be easiest to understand, just have a slightly higher voice.

But today, the cows in the barnyard have added another term to their repertoire.

"Help!" they cried, gurgling in apparent stress. I didn't understand- nothing seemed out-of-the ordinary. The cows huddled in a circle, horns outwards. Their pen was a mess of "Go away!" and "No!" and things I won't include in order to censor this.

"What is going on out here?" my mom shouted from her bedroom window. "I'm trying to sleep!"

"I'm working on it mom, don't worry."

I went into the cow pen and whistled. The cows looked straight at me. A few coyotes came over the fence. "Not nearly enough..." I thought to myself, but didn't let it show. The twins had gone out to forage, Andy was up on the plateau helping finishing rebuilding the fortress that had fallen almost a year prior. I didn't have her.

Purple sparks flew, and I knew exactly what was going on.

He'd been here.

I had, at that point, tried to wipe him from my memory until he came back. In fact, I had deeply considered it. But I chose not to— what if he came back, and I didn't know what he was or how to fight him off. What if I remembered a split second too late. The consequences were too real.

The purple glimmered in my direction and knocked me out.