The hawk hopped toward me, its poise never faltering despite its broken wing and assured pain. I felt the bird’s discomfort sting my chest and I winced. As he approached, I could almost hear his thoughts, filling my dark soul with a thin haze.
“Grab its wing,” the professor boomed as he looked down on me, his startling strength and towering height astonishing me inside my fogged comprehension. “Feel the bone so you can share with the class,” he hissed, a crooked smile crossing his smooth young face.
I looked away from him as a wince grew in my throat, my gaze now locked on the warm amber eyes of the hawk. Little by little, I released my grip on the table and raised my trembling hand toward the injured wing. The hawk watched me with confidence, never shying away from my advancing touch. His amber eyes glittered like coins as he looked into my thoughts, finding calm there.
With extreme caution, I lowered my hand onto its powerful wing, stroking my touch over the ridge of his elbow and down the length of his feathers. The bird opened his beak, breathing deep as it relaxed its wing into a full span. The students toward the front of the room stood from their chairs, anxious to get a better view. In slow movements, I again grabbed the bird’s wing, bringing my other hand up to cradle its chest as I felt the bone, finally finding the protrusion halfway down its bicep. Closing my eyes in regret, I felt the bone molding beneath my touch as it healed with shocking speed. My stomach churned as I felt it, my nerves crushing my confidence like a rock. I had never been confronted like this before and I was certain that this absurd incident would grant me my one way ticket back home.
I looked to the professor with sheepish eyes, begging him not to notice. He nodded in approval, his hungry stare locked on my hand as I continued to massage the hawk’s wing, now nearly healed. I jumped as the satisfied hawk clicked its tongue, ruffling the feathers on his back as he jumped away from me and repositioned his wing against his smooth brown body as though no harm had ever been inflicted.
I looked at the professor as he continued to stare at me with a solemn mask. He stood there for a brief moment as the hawk returned to its perch on his arm, and its feathers puffed in happiness; both eyes glinting with playful light.
Just as fierce and fast as he had come, the professor spun on his heel and marched back up the aisle. “That will be all today,” he boomed with a threatening pitch to his voice as he exited with haste through the same door he had entered, not another word or explanation said.
My breathing returned as I felt my lungs re-inflate and the fog in my mind cleared. It was all a blur, the way he’d looked at me, the way the hawk had known something about me.
Scott put one hand on my back to support me, “Are you alright?”
His words disappeared like a dissipating cloud as my head felt faint, and my eyes rolled back into my head; the room fading to dark.
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The Feather Book Series
by Abra Ebner
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Abra Ebner, Parallel: The Secret Life of Jordan McKay
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