The Fickle Winds of Autumn

Kira’s anxious heart pounded faster; the steps got louder, closer; her skin rippled with an ominous expectancy; a prowling tension of excitement and dread.

She glanced around at the small cell - clearly there was nowhere she could hide - it would be best to try and face her captor head on and find out who they were and what they wanted.

She gripped her nervous fingers into her palms.

“Courage!” she whispered to herself.

A bulky shadow emerged from around the corner, silhouetted against the faint light, a little shorter than her own height, but much thicker and stockier in build.

Kira’s curious eyes strained into the large dim space of the cave beyond her cell, determined to discover who her prisoner - or saviour - might be; the dark figure moved towards her with the familiar tapping-scrapping sound.

Against the dull gloom, the face of a most beautiful woman, with high, proud cheekbones, emerged; but Kira’s astonished breath unravelled, perplexed, as a dazzling set of deep and incisive green eyes shone out above a sharp, hooked, yellow beak. The woman’s entire body was covered in a lustrous sheen of brown feathers, and her thin, yellow calves ended with a pair of long, sharp talons.

The figure drew closer; her keen claws scratched at the cave floor; she folded a large set of wings behind her body rather than arms; she blinked in through the rough wooden bars, then tilted her head and fixed an intent stare at Kira.

Kira’s reeling senses staggered and startled; her numbed thoughts refused to gather in one useful place; she could do little but return a stupefied gaze back at the strange bird-woman; the tense adrenaline banished from her neck and shoulders with a flood of bubbling questions and wonder.

“I am surprised to see that you have awakened,” the bird-woman said in a warm, calm tone. “Normally, the humans do not break the great Gift of Skirnam.”

Kira’s mouth floundered open.

A bird that could talk?

She had never dreamed of seeing such a creature.

Perhaps it was a dream?

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And with the figure of a woman?

What could this mean?

The nuns and the dusty scrolls had never mentioned this before!

The creature blinked at her again and pressed a little closer to the wooden bars.

“Perhaps it is because you are a female, yes? The hunters and travellers we have caught before have all been the men of your kind.”

Could this really be happening?

Had she died somehow on the mountains and was now trapped in some sort of bizarre afterlife where the animals could talk?

Back at the convent, some of the more fanciful illustrations in her prayer books had shown demons in a variety of terrifying guises; but this large brown bird seemed almost human and did not appear to be evil or pose a threat.

Her startled jumble of thoughts would not settle; she was not sure whether to be fascinated or afraid.

“Well girl? Do you speak, yes?” the bird-woman demanded.

Kira felt the colour rush to her cheeks as her voice caught up with her amazed breath.

“Oh! I’m sorry if I was staring,” she said: “but… it’s just… I’ve never seen anyone like…er... you, before.”

The creature blinked at her again and tilted its head to the other side.

Kira’s stunned shoulders relaxed; her pulse and focus returned.

Nothing in her captor’s demeanour suggested aggression or violence - indeed, her face and voice had seemed open, sympathetic and intelligent - not at all like the devils and monsters in the scrolls.

“Yes, I’m awake,” Kira continued: “but my friends are still asleep - they seem to be drugged in some way.”

“Yes, that is the Gift of Skirnam,” the bird replied. She raised one of her legs a little.

“You see here, yes? Long ago, the great God of the Air gave us this talon at the back of our claw.”

The bird-woman indicated a sharp spur protruding from the back of her foot.

“It holds a piercing point with an instant dulling poison; we inject our prey with it to prevent them from struggling too much when we capture and fly with them, yes?”

“Oh, I see - yes, that would explain it,” Kira replied politely. “So, when will my friends wake up again?”

“Not until the Great Observance of Graath. Your capture has brought much joy to my people, for now they will be able to choose another to become queen - just as I myself was once chosen.”

“Oh! You’re … the queen then?” asked Kira.

“Yes! I am Harath, queen of the Akkipter,” said the bird-woman as she drew herself up to her full height and puffed out her chest feathers grandly.

“I have been queen here for many seasons now, yes?”

“Well, I’ve never met a queen before. But did you say you were chosen - I thought queens were usually born?”

“That is not our custom. Our queens are chosen at the Great Observance - and all those moons ago, I was the chick chosen from all the others - the most blessed chick, chosen to feast on the sacred flesh of the humans.”

“The flesh of humans?” said Kira. Her eyes narrowed with doubt; her stomach prickled with nervous caution - perhaps this calm and elegant bird-woman was not as friendly as she seemed.

“Yes! That is how I became queen,” the creature blinked. “And now that you have been caught, the Observance can be held once again, and a new queen can be chosen. It will be a great honour for you, yes? Your flesh will feed and create a new strong and mighty warrior, a protector of the Akkipter - just as I have been. You will die knowing that your life has been of much value to our aerie.”

Kira’s nails dug into her troubled hands; the slender spikes of panic began to crawl through her disturbed core.

“It is unfortunate that you have awoken,” the bird-woman continued, “perhaps it might even be painful for you when our great king rips the flesh from your bones to feed the new blessed chick - but the Observance must take place soon - it is an auspicious time - just before the winter spirits have settled on the sloping cliffs - so in a few nights, when the life-bringing sun descends directly behind Gruneath, the great mountain, you will be eaten.”