Aria Blackwing's Arc

Chapter 4 of 24

Aria stepped back onto the porch with Derek behind her. The tracks pressed clear into the mud by the top step. Four toes. A pad wider than her palm. Claw marks scored the wood where the animal had turned. She crouched and set her hand beside one print. It swallowed her fingers. "Not a dog," she said. "Not a bear either. Wrong shape." Derek leaned on the rail. "Cat?" "Too big for any cat I know." She stood. Her patients were behind that door. The owl in its nest of cloth. A man with a half-healed shoulder. If the thing came back after dark, she would sleep through its second visit. She walked the porch and read the mud. The tracks came from the tree line, climbed the steps, circled the door, and left the same way. Nothing had been forced. The animal had smelled them and gone. For now. "I can't name it," she said. "So I have to keep it out." Inside, she pulled the shutters closed and dropped the bar across the door. She checked the owl. The splint held. The bird blinked at her and tucked its head. She set the new salve and linen on the shelf where they belonged. Derek watched her move. He reached into his boot and drew a slim knife. The blade was narrow and clean. The grip caught the firelight in bright colored bands. He set it on the table between them. "I had it when you found me," he said. "I didn't want to show you before." Aria looked at the knife, then at him. She had bandaged this man. She had left him alone with the owl for a full day. He could have used the blade then and hadn't. "You'll sleep by the door," she said. "I'll sleep by the owl. If it comes back, you wake me. You don't open the door for it. You wake me first." "Agreed." She fed the fire until it burned high. She laid fresh linen by the hearth. She set a pot of water where the coals were hottest, in case she needed to clean a wound in the dark. Then she sat with her back to the wall and the owl in reach. Derek settled by the door with the knife across his knee. His bandaged arm rested on his lap. His blue eyes stayed on the shutter seams. The night passed. Something moved once in the yard, heavy, unhurried. It circled the porch. It sniffed at the base of the door. Derek's hand closed on the knife. Aria's hand closed on the owl's basket. Neither of them moved. The steps went back down into the mud and away. At first light Aria unbarred the door. The new tracks pressed deeper than the old ones. The animal had learned the cabin. It would come back. She had kept her patients alive one night. She could not do it alone for another.