The Bird and The Wolf

Freya pulled an arrow from the quiver at her back and notched it. She would strike true.

A few more seconds and the plump rabbit would be within easy reach of the arrow’s sharp point. The simple creature nibbled on choice grass.

Freya sat on a low arm of the tree. White hair shimmied loose from a braid. A brisk wind was coming in fast. It whistled through the tree branches and carried away brown leaves.

But she was focused. It would be good to have something to put on the family’s table.

The rabbit ducked under a clump of grass to get to the greener bits. White fur stood out among the dead leaves on the ground.

The hare flinched. Her arrow struck damp earth, and the would-be prey flitted away.

Freya jumped to the next tree, and then the next to follow her target. Her palms gripped the bark, and her toned arms lifted her body to a safe perch on a branch. She knew how to move quietly.

Another whirlwind sent more leaves in a flurry to the ground below. She shimmied halfway down the next tree until her prey was once more in sight. Despite the cool wind, a line of perspiration had formed on her brow. Again, she drew back the bowstring in preparation to fire.

She would have it this time.

Then raucous laughter from the sky spooked the rabbit. The critter bolted. It moved too fast for her to chase it this time.

The hunter’s gaze peered up through the treetops. “Damn them,” she said. Now there was no need to be quiet.

A group of soldiers flew overhead. Only five of them, but they made enough of a racket to scare away any prey.

So much for hunting.

Red rushed up Freya’s cheeks, and the feathers on her neck rose up as she glared at the soldiers flying toward the colony. A rabbit wasn’t going to make or break their family. But she wanted to bring it back for Mother’s stew.

Freya leapt from branch to branch until she reached the ground. She had to find her lost arrow from her first shot. Arrows didn’t grow on trees. Her boots padded over the soft forest floor as she traced her path back.

She reminded herself that things could be worse. There was still plenty of time to get home before dark. Hunting went like this sometimes, and Freya enjoyed her time alone.

She found the arrow in the forest underbrush. The incoming breeze seemed to race her home as the afternoon chill began to set in.

By the time she could see home, only a haze of afternoon light trickled through the trees. As Freya got closer, she could hear Adaryn families settling for a cozy afternoon in their homes above. Freya mustered a small smile for the lovely homes constructed into the top branches of the largest sequoias. A few homes had wooden bridges connecting them to one another, although most Adaryn preferred to fly from one place to the next.

An Adaryn soldier landed on the stoop that wrapped entirely around the tree’s girth. Massive tawny wings came to rest against his back as soon as he was sure of his feet on the wooden planks. He entered his home.

Above, other soldiers began to fly in through the forest canopy and locate their own abodes to roost for the night.

Freya envied the myriad of colored wings soaring into the tree homes. The ease with which they maneuvered the arms of the trees was impressive. A sigh escaped Freya.

If only she could fly like them.

She adjusted the strap of the quiver against her back, where her wings should have been. Most born like her didn’t live long, and that was on purpose. Freya was the only living Adaryn who couldn’t fly, and every day she was reminded of how different she was.

There was a flash of white and red overhead. She heard the boots of a soldier land on the balcony of her home. Was it today that her sister would be home?

Freya grabbed the knotted rope at the base of the tree and shimmied up. She might not have wings, but she could climb better than any of them. Their homes were deliberately placed high up, to keep them as safe as possible from their enemies. Freya’s home was the only one with a ladder.

Freya reached the stoop and pulled herself onto the sturdy planks. She pulled up the ladder, as her parents had taught her. Then she rushed for the door to see who was here.

The familiar scents of home reached her nose. Their mother had baked fresh bread, and there was warm stew.

Her sister, Raga, had stolen a piece of the steaming bread and had her back to their mother.

“Raga, you put that down! The bread is for dinner,” Mother said.

Raga winked at Freya.

“You’re home!” Freya was so happy to see her sister. “You look good.”

Raga had been a Valkyrie warrior for several seasons already, but Freya still hadn’t gotten used to how amazing she looked. Her white hair and wings had been freshly dyed red at the tips, as all Valkyrie did to stand apart from the other Adaryn soldiers. Valkyrie were special.

“Put that bread back on the table,” Father said.

Raga ignored their parents. “I’m home, sister.” Bright-blue eyes flashed in a smile as she leapt at Freya’s small frame.

Raga engulfed her younger sister in a tight hug, while holding the half-eaten piece of bread away from their parents.

“Just in time to eat, sister! I flew home as soon as they dismissed us. The next rotation came to take up their post. I knew Mother’s stew would be ready and waiting for me. Well, for us. Of course I’ll share. A warrior’s appetite is never satiated if you ask the captain.” Raga smiled down on Freya before turning back to look at their parents. She popped the last of her bread in her mouth and smiled.

Mother’s blue eyes reflected the light in Raga’s and Freya’s as she beamed in delight having her two nestlings home. Freya knew she loved having her family all together, as much pride as she took in Raga’s work.

Freya could see the pride in their father’s eyes as he looked at the magnificence that was his firstborn. Raga brought great honor to the family as one of the few Adaryn to join the elite squad of soldiers that made up the Valkyrie. She was brave, accomplished in battle, and strong. Plus, she was beautiful. And she could get away with anything.

Freya looked away from her family and in the direction of the steaming stew. Compared to her sister, she was nothing at all. Just a drain on the family. Even though her family accepted her, she felt inadequate. It made her so happy to see her sister, and she vowed not to let her own shame ruin their family’s time together.

“Please, Raga, sit and tell us about what’s been going on at the border. The other ladies at the market say—” Mother began.

Raga’s laugh cut her off.

“Are you worrying about me again? You think a few cur sightings at the border bother me? Not at all. I’d like to see one of those mongrels even try to enter Adaryn lands. The Valkyrie will make easy work of those wild beasts.” The older sister raised her fist.

Raga’s confidence was effective at calming Mother, but Father had a glimmer of doubt in his eyes.

Freya knew their father might be right to worry.