"Aren't I a Good Sister?" Gael Purred over the Corpse of the Owl Who'd Named Him
The Gift Was Meant to Wound, but Sayah Balked at the Prospect of Eating Someone He Knew
The white form hit the nest floor with a thud.
Sayah knew him at once — the Owl with the wandering eyes and the hooting tongue, the one who'd nearly made a meal of them both before Gael sent him fleeing into the dark. The one whose words she'd turned into a weapon.
Neck broken. White feathers still.
"Brought you a present, Brother," Gael purred, her eyes bright with satisfaction. "Aren't I a good sister?"
A silent Sayah nodded, horrified.
He'd eaten already — the Mouse Mother had brought him — and said so. With a disappointed shrug, Gael began to feed, holding his gaze as she did, unhurried, unblinking.
But Sayah had already turned away.
The thought of eating another thinking, speaking creature like himself offended a sensibility newfound at the foot of the Tree.
Gael's gift had been meant to wound. Instead it had only confirmed what the day had already begun — that a quiet and inexorable change in Sayah had begun, and no cruelty of hers could touch it.
He walked to the edge of the nest and peered into the jeweled darkness.
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To Him alone be the glory.