The Princess and the Snowbird

by Mette Ivie Harrison

  “Stay here and safe? You are a coward, then.”

  “I am the coward? When I live with the animals that you say you wish to save? When I live in the forest you say you will protect from your father?”

  Dofin flushed. “If you wish to protect the forest and the animals, you must come with me and work against my father.”

  “I will do what I choose to do,” said Jens.

  “Alone?” said Dofin. “You are a fool.”

  “A fool to whom you owe your life,” said Jens.

  Dofin lowered his head. “I will give you a reward if you come into town. Coin from my father’s treasury.”

  “What use would those be to me here, in the forest?” Jens said, thinking they would be stolen in any case.

  “I must give you something,” said Dofin.

  “Then go on your way and tell no one about me,” said Jens through clenched teeth. “That is surely one gift you can offer me.”

  “As you wish,” said Dofin, and he seemed to bow and step away. But in one swift movement, he had turned back and flung himself behind Jens, grabbing his arms and pushing him to his knees.

  Jens did not struggle. “Do you plan to carry me all the way back to the town?” he asked. “I do not think you will get very far.”

  “I will do whatever it takes to defeat my father,” said Dofin, angrily. “And I think that you are necessary for that. You have no magic of your own, but you do not hate it. If I can show to the others in the town that they do not have to be afraid of the forest nor of the aur-magic—I can take away his power. Please,” he added grudgingly.

  Jens sighed. He found himself admiring Dofin. And yet he still did not want to go back to Tamberg-on-the-Coast with him. It seemed the wrong way to fight one who killed aur-magic, by giving up the forest and all that aur-magic was about.

  With one breath, he threw all his weight forward, so that Dofin flipped over his back and landed on the ground, stunned and groaning in pain.

  “Coward,” he whispered again, lifting his head to meet Jens’s eyes.

  “I will fight my way. You fight yours,” said Jens.

  Then the she-bear that had been chasing after Karl came rushing back to the tree. It sniffed the air between the two, then growled and stepped toward Dofin, threatening him with a low rumble.

  The bear’s claws caught Dofin on one side, but they did not dig deeply into him.

  Dofin yelled and retreated, throwing his hands up as if trying to ward her off. Liva growled once more, and that was all Dofin needed to flee back to the south.

  The bear turned back to Jens.

  He had never seen Liva like this before, but he was not afraid. “Thank you,” he said. It seemed ridiculous that he was standing here, speaking to a bear. But he did not feel he had any right to demand that she should change her form to human. If she wished it, she would have to choose it on her own.

  Her face shimmered and shifted. For a moment Jens went absolutely still. Then he saw her bear features change into the fine human features. The small nose he loved, the stark cheekbones, the shining eyes that were the part of her that he could see most clearly, no matter what form she wore.

  “Ha!” he said, out of pure joy. “Liva.”

  She looked down at herself and blushed, and he turned away, offering her one of his outer skins.

  “I thought I heard someone who needed help. There was a change in the aur-magic, and I followed it here.”

  “Oh,” said Jens. He wanted to put a hand out to her, to touch her face, to feel the softness of her human skin. But then what? He did not know what to do. The rules of his village did not work here.

  Would he offend her if he came too close? Was she interested in him at all?

  “I left my village,” he said, as though she had not figured that out already. He had to fill the uncomfortable silence somehow. “I didn’t belong there anymore. Never did belong there, I think.”

  “No,” she said.

  He did not know what to say then. Should he ask her how she liked being a bear? Whether it was better than being a pika? Or an owl?

  “I hope you do not mind that I came here,” said Jens.

  “Why should I mind?” she asked.

  Because it was her forest? Because she had everything that he did not?

  He sighed. What could he offer her? He put a hand to his pouch but then moved it away. The half circlet her mother had given him was not meant to be used for wooing. And somehow he knew it was not time yet to give it to her.

  “The snowbird feather,” she said, looking at his hand. “Did you see the bird itself?”

  “Yes. I saw it,” said Jens.

  “I do not think any other humans have seen one,” she said. “They are ancient creatures, from the beginning of the world. Most humans believe they have long since died out.”

  “But there is at least one left,” said Jens.

  “Yes. It is said that the last of them will have a gift to save the aur-magic. I was born to save the aur-magic as well.”

  “Yes,” said Jens. Was this his conversation with her? Yes, no. Telling her things she already knew. He might as well have been an animal and grunted at her.

  “Would you like to hear a story about a mouse?” she asked suddenly.

  It was enough to make Jens laugh, so out of place. It was not what he wanted at all. But it was something, at least.

  “It is the wrong thing, isn’t it?” said Liva. “Of course you do not want to hear a story about a mouse. But it is the only thing I could think of, when I was planning in advance what to say to you.”

  She had planned what to say to him?

  “I don’t know humans, you see. I don’t know what they do when—” She stopped and colored.

  His heart thumped hard in his chest. He was afraid to hope that this meant she thought of him as much as he thought of her. Perhaps he misunderstood.

  “I know how animals talk, but I thought I was sure to say the wrong thing to you.”

  This was so like Jens’s own fear that he let out a sound like a laugh.

  “I have said the wrong thing, haven’t I?”

  “No!” Now he was mortified. He should not have laughed at her. Of course that would offend her. He put out his hands. “You don’t understand. It’s just that I don’t—”

  She spoke at the same time. “I am not human enough for you, I think. For anyone. I was not sure I wanted to be human before I met you.”

  Jens stared into her eyes, her human eyes, unlike those of anyone he had ever known. But so perfect. “And now you are?” he asked quietly.

  “Yes. I want what I cannot have. I think my mother would say that was the most human thing of all.” She twisted her face into a sad smile.

  And then Jens saw her hand lift and begin to shimmer into a bear’s paw. In a moment she would be gone. He had never felt so many things at once before. In the village he had felt bad most of the time. But when he had felt good, he felt good. Now he felt bad and good and sad and unsure and desperate and hopeful, all at once.

  He held out a hand and shouted, “Stop!” As if he had power to stop her from doing anything she wanted with her magic.

  She stopped.

  “Stay. Please.”

  To his surprise, she did. And spoke.

  “Tell me about the village. About how girls there speak to boys they like to look at.”

  “You like to look at me?” he asked.

  “Why would I not?”

  “I like to look at you, too,” said Jens. Then he told her about the village, about the traditions of matchmaking, of the dance that a couple did in front of all those who loved them, when they wished to show their intentions toward each other.

  “Show me,” said Liva, smiling.

  Jens showed her the first step, one hand on the small of her back. He could feel the warm pulse of her vein there, and it made him breathless.

  “Now what?” she asked.

  “Step, step,” he got out, stumbling over her.


  They tried again, but with the same result.

  “I think those traditions are not for us,” said Liva, standing to face him.

  “I think you are right,” said Jens.

  “We must make up our own.”

  But what would they be? It was so much harder when there were no clear signals to show what was meant. To say it all openly was so uncomfortable. It took more courage than anything.

  Courage, yes.

  “Your mother is a hound,” said Jens.

  “Yes,” said Liva.

  “A black hound about this tall.” He put his hand to the top of his legs. “With piercing eyes and a sharp bark.”

  “How did you know…,” Liva began. And then she flushed. “She came here, to see you.”

  Jens nodded.

  “She follows me. I am sorry. Did she bother you? Hurt you?” Liva looked him up and down as if for wounds.

  “No,” said Jens. “It was odd. She seemed to want to get to know me. As well as she could, under the circumstances.”

  “Truly?” Liva looked suspicious.

  “Yes. She was—interesting. She is very proud of you.” Jens thought of the jeweled half circlet.

  “She used to try to be more human. With my father,” said Liva.

  “I liked her very much,” said Jens. “All humans should have mothers as protective as hounds, and as persistent.”

  “She did not tell me she was going to come see you.”

  “You would have tried to stop her,” said Jens.

  “Yes.”

  “You would have had no luck with it, I think. She is not easily persuaded.”

  “And she does hate her time to be wasted,” said Liva with a smile. She laughed. “Well, I am glad that you met her and that she did not frighten you.”

  “Oh, she frightened me,” said Jens. “But in a good way.”

  “Do you think I take after her?” asked Liva slyly.

  “Yes, very much when you are a she-bear. You are as fierce and terrible as she was.”

  “Did I frighten you?”

  “Not me, but the other two boys. Isn’t that enough?” asked Jens.

  “Well, you knew who I was from the first, didn’t you? You’ve always known.”

  “And you always seem to know when to come rescue me,” said Jens.

  “I think the last time I came, it put you in danger.”

  “But how did you know to come this time?” Jens persisted. “You said that you heard someone in the aur-magic call for help?”

  “Yes. It was in a dream. My father used to have dreams, too. But then he died. And the dreams came to me. When I wake, I am always in the form of a bear—because the dreams remind me of him.” Tears began to fall from her eyes.

  He had never seen her cry before. After seeing her as a bear, a pika, and a felfrass, it was strange to see her so human, so soft and vulnerable. “I’m sorry,” he said. He should not have mentioned her being a bear. He should have known it would upset her. But he did not know. She had said her father was a bear and her mother was a hound, but he had seen the hound alive. The bear must have died recently, so the wound was very fresh.

  “He went to help someone with the aur-magic, but he was killed in a terrible way. Some kind of blade that cuts not just flesh but magic.”

  Jens pulled back, tension knotting through his shoulders. He thought of the Hunter’s knife, and his father’s.

  Liva did not notice his stiffness. She told him about her father’s stories, his games, his jokes.

  “You must have loved your father very much,” Jens said slowly, and felt a twinge of jealousy, for he had never known such love until now.

  “Yes. And now that he is gone, it is all my responsibility. The aur-magic—I must save it. His dreams—now they are mine. I see people at night who are calling out for help.”

  Jens put his hand to her hair.

  She did not flinch away from him, so he stroked the fine dark strands over and over again.

  But her body tensed as she spoke: “If ever I find the man who killed my father, I will have my revenge. You should know that. I think I am an animal in that way. Whoever it is, I cannot let him go free. He deserves to die.”

  “And you think that makes you an animal? It makes you very human, I promise you.” Jens had wished for revenge on others more than once: the other boys in the village, even his father.

  “It is always life and death when we are together, isn’t it?” said Liva, looking up and taking his hand in hers.

  “It is,” Jens agreed.

  “But tiring. Let’s do something that is nothing to do with the aur-magic or the end of the world or the snowbird. Let’s just be happy,” said Liva. “It’s been too long since I was happy.”

  “I am always happy when I am with you,” said Jens. He knew he should tell her about the Hunter’s knife, but he was selfish enough to want her attention for himself.

  So for a time he let himself forget, and she seemed to forget as well.

  He caught a rabbit for her. She caught a fish for him. They ate, and spoke very little, and touched often—yet never enough.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  Liva

  THAT NIGHT IN the forest with Jens, Liva dreamed of a boy with the aur-magic. The boy could not have been more than five years old, with a funny smile, and his front top teeth missing. She saw his parents burning before him. She could not save them, since her dreams only showed her what was happening in the moment, but she had a chance to save him, for he was still alive. For the first time, she was glad she had had a magical dream.

  There were images from the dream of a port town that told her he lived south, past the village where Jens had once lived, past the forest where her father had died.

  Behind the pyre of the boy’s parents, she had seen the rise and fall of ocean, and ships in docks. It must be Tamberg-on-the-Coast.

  She had heard her father speak of the place, but she had never been herself. There would be many humans there, more than she could imagine. And all of them hated the aur-magic. In her dream Liva saw them shaking fists as the man and woman burned.

  It would be dangerous to go there.

  The boy was already in custody, captured by a gray-haired man who spoke of hunting down others with the aur-magic. She could not delay. She could understand now why her father’s decisions had to be made so hurriedly.

  Liva must act quickly, too. She could not stop to wake Jens, nor to return to her cave and tell her mother. She gazed for a moment at Jens’s relaxed features, and hoped that she would see him again soon. But he could not help her. She must do this alone.

  Liva scratched a message in the dirt, then changed into a kestrel and soared out over the forest. She flew on all day, directly south, following the river. At dark, she could tell by the unfamiliar salty smell in the air that she was approaching the ocean, and the town. Her heart pounded into her throat, and her stomach ached with anticipation of what was to come.

  She quested out toward the boy with her aur-magic. She could sense him, but only just.

  For her entry in the port town, she debated whether to be a gull or a pigeon, but in the end thought she might try a common magpie, a bird her father had called the least worthy of all birds. He told her mother once it was because a magpie ate the young of other birds.

  “And humans do not do the same? And many others?” demanded her mother.

  Her father sighed. “Most humans do not eat others of their kind.”

  “What they do is the same as eating,” said her mother.

  “You do not like them. I understand,” her father said. He turned to Liva. “There was one particular flock of magpies who lived just outside the palace, when we were newly crowned, she and I. They cawed at her, circling, whenever she came out. They smelled the hound on her.”

  “Horrible things,” said her mother.

  All those years ago, Liva thought. Her father and mother, king and queen of a kingdom far from here. In some sense, Liva supposed sh
e was a princess because of them, but even the thought of a port town with its many humans frightened her. She had always thought she belonged in the forest.

  The sun set brilliantly against the final hill, and Liva smelled the first rank scent of humans gathered together, combined with the salty tang of the sea. She winged closer, using only enough of her magic to feel out where the boy was in the port town. He was on the far end, of course. Nothing could be made easier for her.

  She rested for several hours in darkness, and then woke fully and began to plan in the light of the dawn. What shape should she take at this point?

  Best to be human, she decided. She’d need to speak to others, to move about and get information. Liva changed herself near a farmhouse where there were a few worn but clean shifts lying out on a fence to dry. She grabbed one, then hurried away. Once she was a safe distance, she put on the rough shift, instead of the soft skins she had left in the forest. Then she ran fingers through her hair, long because it had been some time since she had bothered with cutting it. Her fingernails and toenails were clean, at least. And her teeth.

  If she needed anything else to fit in, she would have to get it as she went along.

  She took a breath and told herself to be calm, not to assume that she was in danger. She could not, at any cost, change into an animal here, no matter how she was tempted. That would only lead to her being captured and discovered by the Hunter, and that would be no help to the boy.

  Keeping her face bent downward, she started into the town itself. Her bare feet were tough and callused, so she felt no pain walking, but the shift was too tight around her chest and chafed under her arms. She did not understand why humans wore such uncomfortable things, but that was the least of her concerns.

  Liva walked on the widest street for some distance, few humans awake at that hour to pass by. She went over a small rise and then stopped still at her first sight of the ocean.

  It was one thing to smell the water from a distance, to feel it dimly with her magic. It was another thing entirely to have nothing between her and the vast, living thing that was the ocean. She was struck by the caps of white water, the ships lined up along the docks, the gulls cawing up and down the length of the shore. And the life in the ocean itself, calling to her, teeming, moving, breathing.