The branch was relatively thin, which suited Seeol’s purpose anyway. It wasn’t as though he intended to go to roost, but instead to remain only long enough for Emquin and Ilgrin to fall asleep. It wouldn’t take long. The day had been exhausting.
Seeol was happy. Emquin and Ilgrin were his friends, as much as that silly silt tried to prove otherwise. They’d come to trust him. All day he’d made sure to warn them when Far-a-mael and the others got too close, allowing Emquin to speed up accordingly. Ilgrin seemed to think Far-a-mael would be mean to him and Seeol couldn’t help but agree.
Upon hearing the low and steady breathing that confirmed the slumber of his friends, Seeol bounced along the branch and launched himself into the air. He flew beside the road and landed quietly several strides from the first tent. The snoring within gave away Far-a-mael as the inhabitant. Seeol hopped across the grass until he came to the entrance of a second tent.
Someone had repaired the hole he’d torn when first making contact with Seteal and El-i-miir, but that was okay, he could easily pick it out again. Seeol pecked at the stitching until it came free. His eyes adjusted quickly as he stepped inside, allowing him to see as clearly as he would by daylight.
El-i-miir slept on one side of the tent, as did Seteal on the other. Seeol stood beside El-i-miir’s gigantic head, contemplating the depths to which he’d missed her company. His heart felt like it might beat free of his chest. His tail twitched anxiously as he stared with adoration. He hadn’t seen her since leaving the Sit’n’nic inn and the regrettable events that’d followed thereafter.
Seeol climbed atop El-i-miir’s body and stood on her chest. He looked at her face. She was a strange creature, lacking feathers or fur over the majority of a body that was somehow so beautiful that it left him lost for words. Seeol felt like he could play in her hair for eternity. He clicked his beak and bobbed his head, turned in a circle and puffed out his chest before gently rubbing his beak over El-i-miir’s nose.
The woman woke with a start, her arms swinging through the air. ‘Get it off me,’ she cried, slapping Seeol’s midsection, sending him spiralling out of control until he hit the canvas and slid down its length.
‘What’s wrong?’ Seteal’s voice rose in panic as she squinted about, unable to see through the dark.
‘Something . . . ’ El-i-miir trailed off. There was a scraping sound followed immediately by a bright flash. The level of light changed as a lantern was ignited. ‘Something touched me.’
‘El-i-miish,’ Seeol said giddily, shaking out a few loose feathers.
‘Seeol,’ Seteal announced nervously. ‘What are you doing here?’
‘You have to go!’ El-i-miir exclaimed, her face more pale than usual.
‘But I missed my friendlies.’ Seeol pointed at them, an attempt to mimic a gesture they might recognise. ‘I thought we could playing some games and tickle our heads.’
‘You have to go,’ El-i-miir repeated.
‘But I . . .’ Seeol spread his wings, an instinctual act designed to make him appear larger and more threatening than usual. ‘I love my friendlies.’
‘You’re dangerous,’ El-i-miir hissed. ‘Get out of here, and don’t come back.’
‘El-i-miir,’ Seteal uttered disparagingly. ‘He doesn’t understand.’
‘It’s dangerous,’ El-i-miir snapped. ‘You saw what it can do.’
‘But we wanted to fixes me.’ Seeol pulled his head back tight into his feathers.
‘No one can fix you, Seeol,’ El-i-miir said incredulously. ‘The best you can do is go back to Narvon Wood and stay there.’
‘I don’t believing you!’ Seeol shouted, stretching his wings wide and dipping them toward the floor as passionately as he could. ‘If Elgleg can change horsey into human they can fixes owls that are a little naughty.’
‘What the torrid are you talking about?’ El-i-miir shook her head, but Seeol refused to answer. He scurried across the canvas and nuzzled through the gap before exploding into the night. He soared into the cold air, bitter and angry.
‘Stupid! Stupid! Stupid!’ he shrieked repeatedly as he headed back along the road. Why had he allowed himself hope that they would want to see him? They knew what he was now. They’d seen him kill. How could anyone love him when they knew what he could do?
Seeol landed clumsily in a tree close to where Ilgrin and Emquin slept. He dug his claws in tight to the bark. Why did it ache so much? What was this pain, if not physical? And how was it that such invisible pain could hurt so much?
The Inner Circle: The Knowing Page 27