The Angel-bird

A white flash in the dead night chill cut in front of her eyes like a sabre. A sharp, involuntary inhale pricked the young woman’s lungs, and a slowly released breath steadied the terrified thump in her chest. It was the ninth week she had been sleeping under the stars outside any semblance of village limits. She wrapped herself tightly in the dirt streaked bivy that kept the elements outside where they belonged. Or at least that’s what it used to do before making camp a few nights ago in a bramble-packed field. The next night’s rain greatly contributed to the sour mildew currently floating through her sinuses, but right now that stench was the only flimsy safety she could cling to.

Her tightened fists held the worn-thin tarp to shivering cheekbones. “Were those rumors true?” racing thoughts asked her. The last city-state she stopped to download freshly updated maps in was coursing with paranoiacs losing their minds about body-snatchers that would snap up anyone who left the shielded zones. She breathed in again and remembered how megapolis-folk were the last type of people one should trust, especially the blaring ones that would impulsively idea-vomit on the closest stranger. No, she thought, that wasn’t a person and it definitely was no other-worldly entity. The fear pulsing through her temples was subsiding now. She looked around but saw only naked branches scratching a black sky in the breeze. Behind swaying twigs was an array of stars that blinked like nocturnal eyes. Below that, silently moving red lights appeared and passed by far beyond the quiet grove. If it weren’t for all the warnings about her naivete venturing out into the dangerous wild between civilization these past few weeks, this grip of thoughts would be no more than a passing amusement. Instead, the questions about why she was so far from home and the unsolicited advice to leave travel to the automated transports boiled over in her head. The pillowy grass she laid in was bathed in a pass of gentle red light as another unmanned behemoth sped past the road closest to camp.

A burst of quiet squeaks made tiny hairs in her ear perk up. Suddenly another white flash and a violent screech cut through the air, this time causing a scream to erupt from her lungs. In a frantic scramble she leapt out of the bivy while shielding her face from a flutter of wings. Water squelched out of the wet earth beneath her bare feet as she ran for cover in the trees. The flapping seemed to be a few feet behind. Rapid puffs of pressure pushed against her eardrums. The woman heaved and with shivering arms clutched a tree trunk, eyes closed firmly. Silence.

She cracked an eyelid. She wasn’t dead, or hurt. Was that the flapping of a bird? Scanning the limbs above she stopped cold when her eyes landed on the same ghostly blur that swooped to attack moments ago. Dead leaves rustled beneath trembling toes, and her gaze widened with awe. This, was no bird. Not like the bobbing grey pigeons of the city or the brown sparrows that flitted mischievously around villages. Both of which she had seen crackle and die when flying to the boundary of invisible climate shields. This creature was white as pure snow that falls only on the clearest days, and far from the billowing plumes of industrial plants. A nearly full moon cast a milky glow onto its feathers, and each time its head swiveled a hypnotic, iridescent sheen pulsed across its saucer-shaped face. Dark eyes, larger than any creature’s she had ever seen before, fully absorbed its environment. They were black holes that swallowed up her entire consciousness as she stared back into them. An alien indeed.

Tendrils of dark cloud wrapped themselves around the moon, shrouding the ghost-bird in shadow. At that moment the woman remembered an old teacher who could recite all the species of different birds that used to live in their world. A few half-formed names floated around uselessly in her head. She had nearly forgotten after all those long yet short-lived years. All of them so identical with a revolving door of neon distractions. Now she could hardly care how many years would be lost walking outside in the uninhabitable zones. These past weeks felt like an eternity of living, and after tonight she could imagine nothing more divine.

The spectral creature gazed stoically at the woman as she inched to the ground and sat down, their eyes tidally locked in a sacred orbit. There was a strange quiver in her chest. As a few small forest bugs tickled the skin on her ankles she wondered if this was the God that she heard about a few times in her life; one of many casual options for those seeking peace of mind. No, whatever this feeling was, it resonated deeper than any bell she had ever felt in her bones. Minutes or hours were indistinguishable when her eyelids slowed, then shut.

A narrow walking path traced alongside the road and the woman happily stomped her boots with one satisfying crunch after another. The sun was celebrating full freedom today, shining warmly across plains and yellow tinged hills. Small leaves and pine needles fell out of the young woman’s hair and onto the filthy backpack she hefted. It was small and light but just enough.

She stepped carefully across a ditch filled with brush, the path leading a bit too close to the road. Under her boots a vibration grew from hardly noticeable to tremors that made pebbles leap up in excitement. Glancing behind was the all too familiar face of a gargantuan supply truck: a solid panel of steel with cameras that dotted the corners. They were silent trains that cut through the land on their black-glass rivers. Nobody was allowed to venture onto these super highways, nor would anyone want to. The metallic caterpillar grew with alarming speed. The only sound she could hear were from the shaking stones next to her. Reflected sunlight from its carapace grew brighter until she could only watch with squinted eyes. In the instant it whipped by a hot blinding light forced her to turn away. Dust choked the road for a few moments but as the brown haze cleared she made out a small white bundle on the ground a dozen paces ahead.

The bag bounced against her sweaty back as she ran, and knelt down next to a still, ghostly white creature. The only motion from it was the wind rippling across its softest feathers. The bird just looked like a sad pile of litter now, and she hated how that was even possible. Forcing the thought out of her head she swung her bag around and unclipped a small spade. She dug a hole in the rocky dirt and set the bird inside; but plucked its most beautiful feather before covering the body in soil.

She walked on, clutching the feather for hours. Pink and orange hues along its edges mirrored the sky like clouds caught in a jewel. The sun was now barely tickling the horizon, and the only thing running through her mind was that first glance of the angel-bird under shadow and starlight. Her feet stopped and she stared blankly at the fluttering plume between her fingers. “Owl.” she said.