Eager Eagle's Arc

Chapter 3 of 3

Eager Eagle sat on the bench outside the clinic and watched the watch until the hands matched the drawing. The short hand touched the twelve. The long hand pointed at the nine. Close enough to leave. He stood. His torn wing pulled under the sling. The trail meeting was on the far side of town, and he had always crossed that distance from the sky. On the ground he had never gone farther than the market. He took two steps down the path and stopped. The road forked. One branch bent left between houses. The other climbed toward the tree line. He did not know which one led to the meeting spot. From above he had always found it by the bend of the river and the shadow of the ridge. Down here the houses hid the river. The ridge was gone behind roofs. He went back inside. The bell rang. Valerie looked up. "I don't know the way on foot," he said. "I have always flown." She set the clipboard down again. She opened a drawer under the counter and dug past tape and gauze. She lifted out a brass compass on a loop of cord. The glass was scratched. The needle swung and settled. "A logger left this," she said. She placed it in his good claw. "Red points north. Your trail meeting is south of here, past the creek. Keep the red needle behind you and walk toward the sun. When you hit the creek, follow it left until you see the trail marker." He turned the compass. The needle swung, then settled again. He understood the arrow better than the watch. Arrows he knew. "South," he said. "South," she said. "Go." He walked. The compass hung from his claw. Every few steps he stopped and let the needle settle and turned his body until the red end sat behind his shoulder. The dirt road became a packed earth trail that wound between trees. Leaves lay scattered across it. Roots crossed the path. He tripped once and caught himself on his good wing and kept moving. The creek appeared where she had said. He turned left along it. His feet hurt. He did not stop. He heard voices ahead before he saw the clearing, low and steady, someone reading names from a list. He stepped out of the trees. A cluster of animals stood around a post marked with red paint. Heads turned. He pulled the watch from his pocket and matched it to the drawing in his head. Short hand on the one. Long hand on the twelve. He had arrived exactly at the hour. He took his place at the edge of the group. Someone nodded at him and kept reading. He held the compass tight in his claw. He had crossed the town on foot, and he was on time. Then he heard his own name on the list, and the reader looked up and asked him to give the trail report he had not prepared.