by Lydia Deyes
“Think of it as learning to hear without your ears,” Samuel said as he led me into the hall. “You must use your heightened senses to make up for the one you lack.”
Samuel introduced me to several new animals on the thirteenth floor. Each one gave me awkward side glances as he did so. I knew they were looking at my flecked eyes, though I could tell they were trying not to. I tried to ignore them; with Samuel beside me, I was sure they’d eventually accept me. At least here, Samuel’s magic protected me from the fires that had driven me away from the squirrels, and since my first day here, no other strange things had happened. Besides the dreams, of course.
Reading the expressions of strangers was a far greater challenge than I’d expected, but that was the point. They were all instructed to say a single phrase, and I had to guess what it was.
After several failed attempts, we moved on to a wiry ferret who looked at me with beady eyes. I saw a cocky glint in them. The way he drew his paw back slightly… I felt as though his phrase was not only spoken to me, but directed at me. It was a question, I was sure, but when his brows didn’t raise and his head didn’t tilt, I knew it had been phrased almost as a statement. Either that, or it wasn’t genuine.
Was he mocking me?
“Yes,” I replied, hoping I was right. “It’s true I cannot hear. But I’m learning to understand speech regardless.”
The ferret’s brows furrowed, and Samuel shifted on his paws. I’d made a mistake. Both of them met my line of sight, then immediately looked away, as if they were ashamed. Instantly, I knew what the question really had been. I quickly added, “And I have no idea why my eyes look different.”
The ferret’s mouth turned up in a smirk. He looked to Samuel, who was beaming. The old lynx spoke to me without his voice echoing in my head, and I knew he was proud of me. His eyes were gleaming, and he was standing tall, with his head held high, eyes focused on mine. I realized even though I didn’t know exactly which words he’d used, I was still able to determine the general meaning of his phrase. That gave me hope. I’d been so focused on trying to understand exactly what others were saying, I’d blocked myself into a corner. Once I learned to write, I could use that method for specifics.
With that revelation, I was able to broaden my strategy. Instead of trying to make out every word, I focused on how someone was speaking, and I gave answers that applied to a broader range of possible prompts.
A fox’s eyes darted to my foot, where my little piece of blue fabric had been tied. His eyes were happy and encouraging.
He must have welcomed me to the group.
“Thank you! I’m happy to be here.”
A pair of mice subconsciously brushed their paws on their bellies, and their gums moistened with the slightest hint of saliva. That one was tough — perhaps they asked if I like cheese or what my favorite food was. I decided to play it safe with, “I’m sure cheese is your favorite, but I like sweet berries!”
A rabbit’s eyes closed for a microsecond longer than a normal blink, along with a head tilt and softer ear posture. I thought for a few moments before it clicked.
He must have asked something about sleep or rest.
“I slept well last night, thanks. What about you?”
I surprised myself and Samuel by quickly picking up on phrases and responding readily. I noticed that animals used minuscule movements in their bodies and faces during speech far more often than I would have thought, had I not been looking for them. I saw the inner meaning of sentences that could’ve been sarcastic, or that meant something other than what they may have seemed to someone who focused on the surface. I could finally communicate with others, almost normally, and it filled me with joy.
◆◆◆
Barrie and I took up writing lessons again now that I had a foundation for communicating beyond “yes” and “no” questions. We branched out to learning general objects, and it was much easier to learn the written words for those. Sometimes Violet joined us, even though she already knew how to use Samuel’s written language. I marveled at Samuel’s innate understanding when he explained this was backwards from how he normally taught the language. “I knew it would’ve been impossible for you to learn to read body language if you were focused on individual words,” he said in my head one evening, when I was worn out from the day’s lessons. “But you needed to figure that out for yourself. Now that you have, I think you’ll advance much more quickly.”
Samuel was right. I did start picking up on speech more quickly, even surpassing words we were learning in his lessons. When we were still working through the words for various plants, I’d finally improved enough in understanding speech to ask my sister something I’d wanted to know since I’d found her.
“Violet, where are our parents?”
My sister hung her head. “I’d barely learned to fly when mom and dad disappeared,” she said, motioning with her wings and toes to help ensure I understood. “They went out to find food one day and never came back. I looked for them, but they were gone.”
My heart fell. Not sure what else to do, I rested my head on her shoulder. “I’m sorry you lost so much of your family. I’m here now, though.”
“Thanks, Sheer,” Violet said when I lifted my head. “They were your family too, though. Do you remember them at all?”
I shook my head. No matter how hard I searched in my memory, I couldn’t recall anything about them. It was sad that they were lost, but it was hard to miss someone you never knew. Samuel felt more like family to me than anyone else, even more than Violet. His kindness, knowledge, and wisdom were how I imagined a grandfather would be. I didn’t know what I’d do if I lost him, the way Violet had lost our parents.
Between the writing lessons and practice with interpreting facial expressions and body language, I spent time with Samuel’s granddaughter, Anna. Though, I strongly doubted she was really his granddaughter. He was much older than any lynx should ever be, and great-great-great-great granddaughter was probably still ten times too few. Regardless of how distantly she was related to my mentor and the guardian of the thirteenth floor, she was just as kind and thoughtful. She barely blinked an eye when he told her I could speak Montin as well as Kisalan.
Is she used to strange things like this, since Samuel can practice magic?
I took an interest in how various plants and medicines were used to treat illnesses, and Anna was delighted to teach me. She handed me an entire stack of papers she, her grandmother, and many other ancestors had written over the years of working with animals on the thirteenth floor. I stayed up every evening reading through it, a page or two each night, until the last rays of sunlight faded from the windows. When I got stuck on a word, I took my own piece of charcoal and made a tiny mark next to it. In the morning, I asked Samuel to help explain it. Details like vocabulary were still much too difficult to understand from body language.
“You know, Sheer,” Anna said one day when I was halfway through the pile. “Even though not many animals need help in a safe place like this, there is still always someone in need. Especially out there.” She pointed her nose to the window. It was a clear day in the late afternoon, but I’d grown so accustomed to the safety of this building, I was afraid to leave it. When I was living with the squirrels, fire had found me wherever I stayed for more than a night. If someone or something was targeting me, would they find me again once I was outside of Samuel’s protective wards?
Stop being so ridiculous, I told myself. We won’t be out for nearly that long.
Anna cocked her head and waved her paw in front of my face. “Sheer, you okay? You spaced out there for a moment.”
“Hmm? Yeah! I’d love to help.”
The window opened as we approached, and fresh spring air wafted in. It carried scents of flowers and grass mixed with the stinging, acrid smells of the city. I breathed in deeply and sighed. It was wonderful. Anna used the metal staircase beside the building while I flew down beside her. Flying outside in the sunlight felt so much better
than flying and hopping around inside the building. We found several individuals and small communities in need of help, including a turtle with an injured foot and a clan of frogs that had all eaten a bad batch of flies.
I recounted my adventures to Barrie at dinner that evening, still exhilarated from the fresh air. Then I remembered how this had all started. “Is that how you knew where to go when you were injured?” I asked him. “Anna’s expeditions outside the building, I mean.”
He nodded. “I’m glad you were able to understand. I don’t think I would’ve lived through the night without your help,” he said, gesturing with his wing. “You dressed my wound before Anna did, and you got into the building. Without you, the only animals to find me would’ve been the ones wanting to eat me.” I bowed my head, but he bent down to look into my eyes. “Why did you help me, anyway? You could’ve left me alone.” He clenched his talons. “I’m a predator. If I had been well, I could have — would have — hunted you. But you helped me.”
I shrugged. “I know what it feels like to be alone and wounded. And I know what it feels like to be feared. It’s not a good feeling.”
Barrie stared into my eyes, and I averted my gaze. “I’m not afraid of your eyes,” the hawk said, standing tall. “I think your eyes make you special. Plus, they make it easy to pick you out in a crowd.” He leaned down and playfully touched his head to mine.
As the days and nights passed, I watched the forest bloom in bright colors, then dim to brown. The first snowfall brought frost and cold, but we were all safe and warm inside. By early spring, I actually enjoyed talking to other animals. The act of speaking itself was still odd, so I kept my own words to a minimum unless I was with my friends. Though I could read the expressions of others, feeling the vibrations in my throat but hearing no accompanying sound was unpleasant and unnatural. As for comprehension, I excelled. I no longer needed Samuel to translate in my head, but his presence was a comforting anchor. He gave me confidence and the assurance that even if I grossly misunderstood someone, he was there to help me.
All the animals under Samuel’s guardianship started to feel like one big family, but I still struggled to find my place in it. Even though I’d been accepted as a member of the thirteenth floor, none of the other animals would willingly approach me on their own or think to tell me news about the community; except for my sister, friend, and mentor, of course. The other animals were still afraid of me, just because I looked different from them. At least they didn’t know about the fires. I couldn’t bring myself to tell Samuel about the experiences I’d had with the squirrels. What if word spread and they kicked me out of the one place where I felt safe? I tried to participate and socialize with the other animals, but though they didn’t turn me away, they didn’t go out of their way to include me either.
One night in mid-spring, a couple of mourning doves celebrated the hatching of their first chick. Everyone else woke to the shrill yells of excitement and went to congratulate the new parents when the first baby poked a hole in her egg, and watched as she slowly cracked open the shell while the moon rose in the night. All the way through, I stayed asleep on my little perch. It wasn’t until the next morning that I heard the news. Violet, Barrie, and Samuel apologized for not coming to get me… they were too caught up in the excitement themselves to think of me.
By the time I arrived to see the little one, the crowds had thinned. The baby was already wearing her own scrap of blue fabric, and the parents wanted some privacy. I was ashamed. How could I miss such a wonderful moment in their lives when we shared a home? Despite the thrill of learning that never seemed to fade, my heart cried desperately for a change from the silence that smothered me during the day. My dreams, sporadic since coming to the thirteenth floor, were my only refuge from the quiet.
VII
A few nights after the hatching of the mourning dove, I had a new dream. Of course, it wouldn’t be complete without the presence of the mysterious, pulsing darkness. This time, a sliver of the strange smoke broke off and formed a snake — a fully rendered cobra, not just a fang or trail. Taken aback by the contrast in detail to my previous dreams, it took me a moment to realize the end of her tail morphed into a rat’s. She slithered past me, oblivious to my presence. Beyond her, I could see vague forms of dozens of small creatures that reminded me of monkeys. Though I couldn’t make out too many details, it seemed they were all perfectly identical. They weren’t a part of the darkness itself; rather, the darkness coalesced into dense links around them, chaining them together. The snake watched over them with a cruel eye, clearly in control.
Did she enslave these creatures?
As she passed beyond where I could see, the darkness lost all of its shape, slowly turning into a huge cloud of dust. When it settled, the crow’s feather, wolf’s claw, and footprints of a sparrow remained in her wake.
What could this mean?
Then I heard the whispering of a breeze, too quiet for me to make out the words. The image shifted, and I was suddenly flying north over the city, faster than a falcon. The wind cut my face and ruffled my feathers while the building I called home vanished behind me; the sun was just barely starting to peek over the horizon. Below me, the city transitioned first into cultivated fields, then vast grasslands. The mountains looming in the distance drew closer and closer, until I was directly above them. A massive rift in the ground cut through them and led off into the distance.
Suddenly, I was no longer flying — I was falling. Spiraling towards a river at the bottom of the ravine. I spread my wings to slow my fall, but it had no effect. I clenched my claws and shut my eyes, bracing for an impact, but it never came. I woke up just before I hit the water. My feathers were ruffled as though I’d actually been plummeting from the sky. I closed my eyes in relief, struggling to regain control of my breathing.
◆◆◆
When my heart finally stopped pounding against my ribcage, I opened my eyes to see Violet watching me.
She tilted her head in concern, and I read the gentle creases around her eyes. “Are you okay, Sheer?”
“Yeah,” I said, trying to form my voice into what I hoped was a whisper. I didn’t want to wake the other sparrows. “Bad dream.”
“Do you want to talk about it?”
I thought a moment before I responded. “Yes,” I finally decided, “but I think I should tell Samuel. Want to come with me?” Violet’s eyes brightened, and she nodded. Together, we slipped out of the sparrow room. Dawn was on the horizon, so I knew Samuel would already be awake.
After I recounted my dream to Samuel, he stared at his paws for a long time before responding. “This is very strange indeed, Sheer.” He raised his head slightly to look me in the eyes.
It had been a while since Samuel had spoken inside my head, so the echoing voice caught me off guard. He must believe this is something important. “Why? What does it mean?”
“Well, I can see that the snake’s strength has increased significantly since your last dream, even from the limited scenes you’ve described,” he said. I felt the rumbles of his throat in time to the echo in my head, so I knew Violet was able to hear as well. “If the vision is true, then she has enslaved at least a dozen of those odd… monkeys, did you call them? I haven’t heard any news from my scouts of such a thing yet, but this needs to be stopped before it gets any worse. I think the second part of your dream is exactly what we need. We should follow that path and head for the mountains.”
I stepped back. The prophecy Samuel had told me rushed to mind. “She’s real? But I don’t want to fight. I’m not ready! I’m just a sparrow. How would I defeat a cobra? Especially since I can’t hear… it’s not like I can expect her to sit still while I try to read her body’s expressions. And…”
“For one who complains about how weird it feels to talk, you talk an awful lot when you’re anxious, Sheer.”
I clapped my beak shut, and heat rose to my face.
“Anyway, it doesn’t matter if you’re ready or not,” the ly
nx said, standing. “The snake won’t wait for you to be properly prepared, and neither will the others. If the darkness in your dreams signifies evil, as I believe it does, we need to take advantage of what information we can glean from them to stop the evil from spreading. We have a lead, and the time is now.”
“The others… the crow and the wolf?” I remembered the old but menacing crow I’d seen before I arrived at the thirteenth floor, and I shivered. I didn’t even want to think about facing a wolf. The claw in my dreams was terrifying enough by itself.
“Yes. I know you don’t want to join this fight, Sheer, but your dreams are absolutely key in getting us a step ahead of them. You and I are in a position to keep the knowledge of this evil between us and destroy it before it affects the rest of the world. But focus on the snake, for now. The others have not changed in your dreams beyond their tokens, so I believe she must currently be the greater threat.”
“But shouldn’t we come up with… an army or something? You don’t expect me to fight her all by myself, do you?”
“No army. Not yet. If we try to recruit other animals to our cause before we truly need them, panic could spread, and that has never done anyone any good. Even if that didn’t happen, assembling an army would attract too much attention, too soon. There must be a connection between the three creatures in your dreams, so I do not want to risk alerting the other two before we have a chance to defeat the first. No, we should keep this quiet, for the protection of the thirteenth floor. But you will not be alone, Sheer. I’ll go with you.”
I shook my head, still unwilling to face the danger so suddenly placed before me. “It’s not safe for me out there!” I cried without thinking. “Whenever I stay in a place for too long, any place other than here, this mysterious fire just… keeps coming for me. I’m safe here. I don’t want to go out someplace where the fires could come back.” As soon as it was out, I held my breath.