Aria Blackwing's Arc

Chapter 17 of 24

In the morning Aria cleared the north wall. She stacked the mending basket on the table and dragged the herb chest away from the boards. Derek came in with the saw and the fresh planks and set them down where the chest had stood. "We'll open the corner," she said. "A pen for the hawk on this side. A perch above for when the wing knits." He nodded and marked the boards with a bit of charcoal. She held the plank while he cut. The saw bit clean. Sawdust fell on her boots. They worked through the morning. He measured. She held. He drove the nails and she braced the frame. The owl watched from its box. The raven shuffled on its perch. The hawk tracked Derek across the room with its yellow eyes and did not move. By afternoon the pen stood against the wall, waist-high, with a low door and a perch inside. Derek fit the last slat and stepped back. Aria set a folded sack on the floor of it and lifted the hawk in. The bird settled at once. She looked around the cabin. The pen had taken a corner, but the room felt wider. The birds had their places. The tools lay where they belonged. "It fits," she said. "It fits." She turned to thank him and found him already looking at her. His hand was still on the top rail of the pen. He did not move it. He did not say anything for a moment. "Aria." His voice came out rough. "When I was on the road with the hawk, I kept thinking about getting back here. Not the cabin. You." "I know." "I don't think I said it right before." He wiped his palm on his trousers. "I love you. I should have said it plain." She felt the words land in her chest and stay there. She had known it. Hearing it was different. "Say it again," she said. "I love you." She stepped in and put her forehead against his. His hand came up to the back of her neck. They stood like that a while. The fire ticked. The hawk watched them from the new pen. When she stepped back, she kept her hand in his. "We have a hawk that answers to you," she said. "An owl. A raven. A man who won't leave." "That's the count." "Then we need more than a corner." She looked at the far wall, the one that faced the trees. "We need a proper addition. A second room. Before the cold sets in." He followed her eyes to the wall. Beyond it, somewhere in the tree line, whatever had been watching them was still watching. Building out meant building toward it. He squeezed her hand once and let go. "Then we start tomorrow." She picked up the broom and swept the sawdust into a pile by the door.