Feathers

by Rose Mannering

  “Sometimes it’s nice to get a reply.”

  There was a pause as they picked their way over the dry, cracked ground, the bristly rushes tickling their calves.

  “You don’t need to worry about me,” said Blue Moon. “I’ll be just fine.”

  As they neared the settlement, the brothers returned to their quips and banter, tripping each other up and laughing if they fell. When they reached the first tent, Ode slung the practice weapons into his brother’s arms and promised to see him tomorrow before he left to go out into the wild.

  “Get a good night’s sleep and dream of my face all night long,” called Ode, as Blue Moon walked away.

  The chatter of the tribeswomen cooking around the fires was too loud for Ode to hear his brother’s response, so he could only make out a grumble.

  Smiling, Ode pushed back the flap of his tent and ducked inside, followed by Arrow. Cala crouched before the small fire, an assortment of ingredients scattered beside her. When she saw that she was not alone, she stood and began quickly tidying up.

  “I thought that you were playing with your brother,” she said, gathering up feathers, thread, and what looked like dried, thinly sliced animal skins.

  “We were fighting, not playing,” said Ode, tugging one of her long plaits in greeting as he always did. “What are you doing?”

  “Nothing. Just fiddling with a few things.”

  Ode collapsed onto his bed mat and began rubbing his shoulder. He had pulled a muscle in one of his fights.

  “Were you looking into the fire?” Ode asked casually.

  Cala knew better than to fall for her apprentice’s nonchalant attitude. “No,” she said firmly.

  “It looked like you were.”

  Cala shuffled over to one of her chests and Ode could not help but notice it was the one that was normally locked. Cala’s three leather chests were a rare phenomenon to the Taone, who could count the number of each’s personal possessions on one hand. It took two mustangs to carry Cala’s trunks whenever the tribe moved and a great deal of huffing and puffing to strap them into place, but no one questioned her right to such extravagancies. They would not have dared.

  “It looked like you were trying to find out a fortune,” persisted Ode.

  “That is not what I was doing.”

  “Are you sure? What about those animal skins you had? What were—”

  “Perhaps you should stop gabbling and go and get our food, little man.”

  Ode made a face. “I’m resting,” he muttered.

  “Well, hurry up. I’m hungry.”

  Ode longed to race over and see what she was trying to hide, but he knew she would not let him get away with it, so he stayed put. He had asked her many times what was in her locked chest and she had always given him vague answers, except for one night when, feeling particularly daring, she had whispered, “Secrets.”

  Ode had just finished rubbing the ache from his shoulder when the flap of the tent was pulled aside and a little face peered in.

  “Birther!” it squeaked. “Birther, my mam needs you!”

  Cala slammed the chest shut and grabbed her pouch of remedies from the corner. “All right, Pale Sky,” she said to the child. “We’ll be there in a moment.”

  “Not you,” said Pale Sky, looking at Ode. “Mam said not you.”

  Ode had been sent away from many births since the incident, but it always hurt. He shrugged and looked away.

  “Make sure you leave some food for me,” said Cala, ruffling his hair. “Don’t go eating it all again. Even growing boys don’t need that much meat.”

  Ode did not reply. He watched as she left with Pale Sky, and then there was no sound except the distant hum of chatter outside and the crackling of the fire. He had been born a boy birther—a freak to the Taone—and now he was considered too strange even to do that. He sighed.

  For a while, Ode ambled around the tent, tidying up and playing with Arrow. When the food was ready, he collected it from the tribeswomen, none of them daring to look him in the eye, and he ate his dinner alone. He left Cala’s portion beside her bed mat and forbade Arrow to go near it, although that did not stop the wolf from licking his chops and sniffing the air for wafts of juicy meat.

  It was only when he was laying on his bed mat, looking up at the darkening sky through the tent’s open smoke flap, that Ode remembered the chest. He had seen Cala slam it shut, but he had not seen her lock it, and perhaps she had overlooked this precaution just once. He sat up and crawled over to the stack of three chests on the other side of the tent. He pushed at the chest’s lid gently, expecting it to remain fastened, but it shifted under his touch and creaked open. Ode caught his breath. He had been right; in her haste to leave, Cala had left the chest unlocked.

  Inside there were thin strips of animal skin folded, rolled, and bound shut with leather ties. But there was nothing else. Ode frowned and dug through the skins, but all he discovered was the wooden bottom of the chest. Feeling disappointed, he was about to shut the lid once more when one of the animal skins caught his eye. It had markings on it; shapes and symbols that meant nothing to him. He picked it up and held it toward the dying embers of the fire. The skin had flecks and dots and swirls scratched all over it, like the patterns that the tribespeople wore on their skin.

  Ode ran his finger across the markings, wondering what they could possibly mean. He picked up another animal skin and unrolled it, discovering more symbols. Suddenly, a word drifted into his consciousness: map. He remembered the silver girl from his dreams, and he saw her bent over a similar object, tracing the markings with her finger. “The Wild Lands,” she had said, stroking a shape on an animal skin. Her violet eyes widened in wonder, and she smiled.

  The vision vanished, and Ode shuddered. He knew instinctively that the Wild Lands was his home. He knew that he stood in it now—a tiny part of something far bigger than he had ever imagined. His fingers shook as he contemplated that there was more to the realm than the land between the winding river and the gaping lake. All his life he had known nothing but the Taone. The possibility that there was more to life than this had never crossed his mind until now. The thought made him feel sick and small.

  Ode did not know how long he sat there, hunched in a ball with the map spread open on his lap, but when a hand touched his shoulder, the embers of the fire had long burned out and the only light in the tent came from the stars.

  “You’ve always known there was more,” Ode whispered.

  Cala sighed, her hand still on his shoulder. “There is always more. Does it scare you?”

  “It confuses me.”

  Arrow was snoozing peacefully at the foot of Ode’s bedroll and his paw twitched in his sleep.

  “There will come a time when you accept confusion. Many strange things will happen to you, Ode.”

  “Why don’t you just explain it to me, then?”

  “Don’t you think I would if I could?”

  “Sometimes I’m not sure.”

  Cala gently removed the map from Ode’s fingers and put it back in the chest. She shut the lid and locked it.

  “I was making something for you when you came in,” she said. “It’s a gift.”

  From the pouch across her shoulders she took out a leather cord adorned with a single white feather. Ode flinched.

  “I found this feather when I found you in the snow,” said Cala, placing the cord over his head. “It’s your feather, and I made it into an amulet.”

  “What’s an amulet?”

  “It’s an inheritance. When you shift shape, your clothes will fall away, but this will change with you. It is part of you, and it is important.”

  The feather lightly tickled Ode’s chest, but he could not bring himself to touch it. It was the sickening reminder that he was not like everyone else.

  “So, that’s it?” he snapped, his voice croaking with pain. “You’re not even going to try to explain?”

  Cala smiled. “Accept the confusion, little man,” she
said. “That is all you can do.”

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  The Shift

  Blue Moon was the last to return from the initiation, and he walked back into the settlement one late summer’s morning to a chorus of excited shouts and gurgles. Gray Morning strode out of his tent grinning and embraced his son, clapping Blue Moon’s bruised, scratched back over and over again until the scabs began to bleed. Blue Moon had stayed so long in the wilderness that some had wondered if he would ever return. Ode had even found himself doubting it; his chest prickling with fear since, with every initiation, there were some who were never seen again.

  A feast was announced, and while the rest of the tribe scurried into action, Blue Moon tore himself away from his proud parents to greet his older brother. At the edge of the settlement, they stood before each other, both realizing that they had changed. They were not the same two brothers who had stood together at the beginning of summer.

  Ode saw the wiry stealth Blue Moon had gained in the wilderness, and there was a seriousness to him now, when before he had been full of quips and laughter. His body had lost its smooth roundness and he looked jagged and fierce. His smile, however, still held a flicker of its old warmth.

  “I think that we have both grown,” said Blue Moon, noticing the firm set of Ode’s shoulders and the shadows in his eyes that spoke of secrets.

  “Spoken like a man,” said Ode. “What did you do with my little brother?”

  Blue Moon grinned, looking for a moment like his old self. “A coyote ate him,” he replied. “And the spirits cursed him for being so cocky.”

  They both laughed.

  “Congratulations, little brother. I can’t even imagine the patterns you will get for staying out so long. Maybe you will have more even than Dar.”

  The wry tone of his voice must have struck Blue Moon, because he said with some wonder, “You are scared of him no longer?”

  Ode realized with surprise that this was true. Gray Morning was still bigger and stronger than he, but Ode knew there were places other than the plains and the forest; places that his father had never thought of and did not rule. “No, I’m not scared of him,” he finally said.

  There was a pause and both brothers wished for the easy familiarity of their past.

  “I feel I ought to tell you something,” said Blue Moon, looking at the ground. “Dar is … he will announce tonight that Rippling River will be my partner.”

  Ode felt his fingers clench. Arrow, who was sitting nearby, looked over, his ears pricked.

  “I am happy for you, brother,” Ode said.

  “I wanted to tell you myself. It was his choice, not mine.”

  “Thank you.”

  Blue Moon nodded, before walking away.

  And that evening, after the dancing and the feathers and the chanting, Gray Morning announced the happy news. The tribeswomen cried with joy—and some with anger, since one of their daughters had not been chosen. Rippling River emerged from the crowd and she stood before her betrothed, blushing profusely and looking more beautiful than ever. The tribe began to chant again and dance for joy, the drums banging out a rhythm.

  Ode watched it all from the shadows with Arrow at his side. He fought the overwhelming desire to escape it all and fly somewhere far, far away.

  Since the tribeswomen of the Taone would not allow Ode to tend to them as a birther, he often found he had little to do. He would help Cala as much as he could, sorting through her supplies and mixing pastes and ointments, but more often than not, he was found walking alone, except for Arrow, away from the settlement to practice. What it was that he practiced, he was not sure, because he did not understand what had happened to him—how his body shifted into something else—but he knew that he needed to garner some control over it. In the same way that the tribesmen taught their bodies to hunt, he needed to teach his body to shift.

  In his daily practice sessions, Arrow would sit nearby and watch as Ode changed into a white bird. Ode wondered why the wolf did not try to pounce on him, but he seemed to know that it was still his master. He observed Ode’s efforts with his cool green eyes and kept watch for danger.

  In the privacy of a glade or at a long distance from the settlement across the flatlands, Ode would undress and stand still, willing himself to shift. For the first few seasons, he was rarely successful. Instead, he felt frustrated and cold. Sometimes the shift would take him by surprise and before he knew it, he was changing, his arms becoming wings and his legs shortening rapidly. These moments filled him with panic and pain. The shift made his limbs burn with agony and sometimes he even hoped that his efforts to shift would fail.

  “You must embrace that pain,” said Cala, when he returned to their tent, moody, one afternoon.

  “It would be a lot easier if you’d just tell me what to do.”

  “How should I know how it works? Have you ever seen me turn into a white bird?”

  Ode grunted.

  “Why couldn’t it be an eagle?” he said after a pause. “Why does it have to be such a weird-looking creature?”

  “I’m sure there is a reason,” Cala replied, without meeting his eye.

  However, as summer became winter, and then winter melted into spring, Ode found that he was achieving a shift more frequently. Sometimes the ability still escaped him, and sometimes it took him by surprise, but after a while, he no longer feared it. He had taken Cala’s advice and embraced the pain until there was almost none. What he felt when he shifted now was close to exhilaration. He could fly. If he was in a good mood after a shift, Ode would let himself fly in circles, relishing the feeling of soaring above everything.

  The realm looked different from the sky. The settlement seemed small and insignificant. The land looked more like the map he had found in Cala’s chest. He took it out often now, with her permission, and studied the shapes and markings. He was careful not to ask questions, because he knew from experience that Cala would snatch the map from his hands and lock it back in the chest again if she felt he was growing too inquisitive, but sometimes he would burn for answers.

  “What are all these other things?” he asked one evening, gesturing to the sheets of animal skins covered in markings.

  Cala replied, “Scriptures,” but her jaw twitched, as if she had said too much.

  “What do you do with them?”

  “Read them.”

  “What does read mean?”

  Cala looked up sharply, and Ode quickly put the map back in the chest and shut the lid with a snap. “Never mind,” he said.

  His auntie hid a smile.

  As Ode’s shifting continued, he found himself getting used to his other form. On certain days he almost preferred it. As the white bird he was no longer the freakish birther, but rather a wild creature with no name. One day he stayed in his shift longer than normal and almost forgot himself. Flying above the forest, he had just been about to soar over the settlement—something he never did for fear of being spotted by members of the tribe—when Arrow’s bark brought him abruptly back into his own body. Literally.

  Ode’s wings vanished, and he began to fall. With a jolt of terror, he shifted himself into the white bird once again and managed to brace himself just before he landed with a thump on the forest floor, shifting immediately back into his human form. He scrambled to his feet and brushed the dust from his hands. That he had momentarily forgotten himself terrified Ode. It had never occurred to him that it was a possibility, but he knew he must be more careful in the future.

  He looked around, his legs still trembling, hoping to see some sign of Arrow or his clothes, but he’d fallen into a different part of the forest. He heard Arrow bark and followed the sound. However, when he reached his peaceful glade, he discovered that the wolf was not alone.

  “Greetings brother,” said Blue Moon. “Do you think that you could call your wolf off?”

  Arrow was circling Blue Moon, his lips pulled back in a snarl. At Ode’s whistle, he reluctantly peeled away.

  �
��Haven’t you got things to do?” asked Ode, pulling his clothes back on. It had been a long time since Ode had spoken to his little brother. Blue Moon was always busy now advising Gray Morning or looking after Rippling River.

  Blue Moon grimaced. “Unfortunately yes, but I came in here to find you. I thought we could have a little sparring game, like old times. I’ve barely seen you recently … we’ve both been busy.”

  Ode noticed the wooden practice weapons in his brother’s arms.

  “What do you want to use those for?” he asked, unable to hide the tiny sneer that crept into his voice. “You’ve got real weapons now.”

  Blue Moon sighed. “Ode, it wasn’t my fault. I didn’t choose her.”

  “Yeah, I know.”

  “Then why are you punishing me? Why are you ignoring me?”

  “It’s not about her. It’s not about you.”

  They paused and looked at one another.

  It was about Ode. It was because he was a freak and an outsider, who wished so much that he had the life of his little brother. Blue Moon held out the wooden axe, Ode’s favorite weapon of choice. “Come on, take it, I want to beat you like I used to.”

  Ode took the weapon.

  “We haven’t fought since our initiation,” said Blue Moon, swinging his wooden spear in his hands.

  “Your initiation.”

  “I’m not the only one who went out into the wild and came back alone. Besides, you brought a wolf with you.”

  Ode chuckled. “All right then, little brother, show me what you’ve learned.”

  Together they fought and joked in the glade, just like old times.

  CHAPTER NINE

  The Savages

  That spring, Ode began to dream more frequently, and often he woke in the morning with the whispers of foreign words in his ears and the vision of other lands drifting away like smoke before his eyes. He saw the silver girl in emerald-green robes standing before a surge of people who cheered and hailed her; he saw a man who looked tired and drawn, staring at a golden disc; and he saw a little girl with yellow hair crying alone in a room, her body racked with sobs.