Eager Eagle's Arc

Chapter 2 of 3

Eager Eagle stood outside the clinic and opened the watch. The cover clicked back on its hinge. He stared at the face. Two thin hands crossed near the top. He turned the watch one way, then the other. The numbers stayed the same, but the hands looked the same too. One was a little longer. He thought. Maybe. His next appointment was the trail meeting at one o'clock, and he did not know if he had an hour or five minutes. He had walked three steps back down the path before he stopped. He had told Valerie he understood. He had not. That was a lie by silence, and a lie was worse than being late. He turned around and climbed the step again. The bell over the door rang. Valerie looked up from her clipboard. Her pen paused. "Stitches?" she said. "Fine." "Then what." He held out the watch on his good claw. "I can't read it." She set the clipboard down. She did not sigh. She wiped her hands on her scrubs and came around the counter. She pulled a stool over and sat across from him, close enough that he could see a smudge of iodine on her sleeve. "Show me what you see," she said. "Two hands. One longer. They point at numbers. I don't know which one matters." "Short one is the hour. Long one is the minute." She tapped the glass with a fingernail. "Short points at the number. Long counts around the edge. Each number is five minutes for the long hand." He stared. His head hurt. Valerie reached under the counter and came back with a scrap of paper and a pencil. She drew a circle. She drew the numbers. Then she drew four little clocks beside it. "Your appointments this week." She pointed at the first drawing. "Trail meeting. One o'clock. Short hand on the one, long hand straight up on the twelve." She pointed at the next. "Hatchling lesson. Nine. Short on nine, long on twelve." The next. "Council. Three thirty. Short between three and four, long on the six." The last. "Feeding at noon. Both hands straight up." She pushed the paper across. "Don't read the watch. Match the picture. When the hands look like the drawing, go." He looked at the paper. He looked at the watch. He held them side by side. The short hand sat between the twelve and the one. The long hand pointed near the ten. He compared it to the first drawing. Not yet. Not close. "Wait on the bench outside," Valerie said. "When it matches the one o'clock picture, leave. You'll make it." He folded the paper carefully and tucked it beside the watch. His face felt hot. He had accepted help, and it had not killed him. "Thank you," he said. "Go sit," she said, and picked up her clipboard.