Chapter One
A shrill squawk distracted Caspian’s attention from the trail mix he’d just opened. Instinctively, he turned toward the sound but, of course, could see nothing but dense woodland.
Enjoying the natural beauty of the forest, he’d decided to sit for a moment on a moss-covered mound surrounded by ancient gnarled trees, twisted into spooky shapes. It was his second day house sitting for Dr. Kilpatrick, and his second trip into the forest. He hadn’t walked far from the house when he’d stumbled on the beautiful spot.
For a second, he entertained the idea of curling up on the velvety-soft moss in the clearing and relaxing in the dappled sunlight, which broke through the canopy overhead. He might even pull out a book to read, having about a thousand titles in his backpack.
He went nowhere without his eReader.
Under the cool cover of the trees, Caspian appreciated the relief from the powerful sunlight that would burn his skin if he sat out for an hour. Sunlight so bright, it would reflect harshly off the paper pages of real books. Mostly, he simply liked the slightly cooler temperature within the forest, especially as he hadn’t yet got the air conditioning installed in the upstairs bedroom windows. Last night had been too hot for words. He could take a nap right here.
The urge to curl up with a thousand books didn’t last for long, though.
He’d sat a mere matter of minutes before hearing the noise. The continued squawking disturbed the peaceful beauty. It grew bolder and louder, and seemed near, although he couldn’t tell for sure.
As a townie by background, Caspian was unused to how sounds traveled through the trees. He didn’t need a rural upbringing, though, to recognize the sound of not one but several birds becoming more frantic. Urban-bred city boy he may be, but when he was much younger, Caspian had been an enthusiastic ornithologist. Getting out of town, into the parks and open spaces to watch birds whenever he could, was once a hobby he’d loved. Although, that had been ten years ago or more, and so his factual recall on all things bird related was undoubtedly a little rusty.
His interest in bird watching waned in his teenage years when school studies became more intense. And there were many other extracurricular distractions through the puberty years, from video games to pop music to boys.
Curious about what was making the din, Caspian closed the bag of trail mix and set out to investigate the noise that he couldn't ignore.
He picked his way slowly and carefully through the trees, hoping not to disturb whatever was going on. He was certainly no expert, yet he sensed that such a continued ruckus in the forest wasn’t normal. The hum of cicadas and the chirp of songbirds? Sure. But this noise wasn’t birdsong. Something out there distressed the birds.
Caspian followed the commotion, and before long, he wandered into a tiny clearing. At the bank of one of the still ponds clustered a congress of ravens. Corvids, as he’d suspected, by the sounds of them. Good to know he hadn't forgotten everything about birds. Though he hadn’t tapped into that knowledge for more than a decade, his recall may not have been so rusty as he'd thought.
There had to be at least fifteen or twenty ravens, at a quick guess. With black feathers ruffled and reflecting the sunlight, they hopped, skipped, and squawked at the water’s edge, distressed about something. There were so many of them, Caspian couldn’t get a read on the cause of their concern.
Cautiously, he approached.
The water of the pond glimmered in the sunlight, its surface disturbed now and then by the passage of water striders. Tall grass grew along one side of the bank. If it weren’t for the unholy raucous of the ravens, it would be a perfectly peaceful place to relax. The forest seemed full of such magical spots.
The ravens soon noticed him. They all turned and stared at him, their dark eyes severe.
He knew them as carrion birds. Even if he didn’t know the mythology surrounding them as bad omens associated with death, the very look of them brought all of those things to mind. With sharp beaks and brutally curved claws, they appeared menacing.
One rose up and batted its wings in front; its squawking grew shrill.
Calmingly or defensively, or perhaps intending both, Caspian raised his hands with palms outward and took a step back. “Whoa, it’s okay.” He swallowed hard. “Sorry. If you want me to, I’ll just…you know, just leave.”
The nearest ravens hopped toward him, feathers puffed and beaks closed.
As they moved away from the group, Caspian was able to get a glimpse of what lay at the heart of the kerfuffle.
A fallen raven lay on the bank of the pond. One of its wings went out at an unnatural angle; the other lay spread out so the tip dipped into the water.
Caspian frowned. He had no idea if the ravens had done that to the injured bird or if the injuries were unrelated, but either way, it was in bad shape. Birds with broken wings were quickly eaten by predators or died from starvation. If he walked away now, the bird on the bank of the pond would die.
“Hey,” Caspian said. “I know you’re not very fond of me, but I’m not going to let that bird die. So all of you can just go away.” He waved his hands—a show of bravery that he didn’t truly feel. The birds squawked. “Go! Get out of here.”
If looks could kill, sixteen sets of eyes would have watched him leave the mortal coil.
A group of this many could kill him, or at least inflict terrible injuries, if they were of a mind to do so. Ravens didn’t just scavenge and eat scraps; they were intelligent hunters who worked together. They were known to hunt and kill big animals when food was scarce.
Whether or not it was brave or foolhardy, Caspian rushed forward, swinging his arms wildly. The ravens hopped out of his way, and some flew off a short distance, but they didn’t leave. Every single one of them watched as Caspian approached the injured raven. Each of them took a step forward when Caspian knelt to check if the bird was still alive.
The injured raven’s chest rose and fell, strained. The bird locked eyes with Caspian. Could a dying bird look so defiant?
Making a soft, soothing noise, Caspian reached out to touch it. He knew he risked being pecked at or scratched to shreds by sharp talons, but he was willing to take that chance.
He laid a hand on the raven’s back.
The creature opened its beak, but it didn’t make a noise that Caspian could hear. All of the surrounding ravens ruffled their feathers and paced, but kept their distance and a surprising silence.
“Is your wing broken?” Not expecting an answer, Caspian asked it in what he hoped was a soothing, reassuring voice. He let his fingers trace along the top of the good wing, enjoying the softness of his black feathers beneath Caspian’s fingertips. “This one seems okay, but the other one is all bent out of shape. What did you do?”
As if in answer, one of the ravens on the periphery cawed harshly.
Caspian grimaced. “I’m trying to help. You can keep your attitude to yourself.” He had to be crazy to talk to them like they were people. He focused on the injured bird again. “I’m going to get you help.”
None of the birds could understand him. Caspian was pretty sure that ravens were smarter than most other birds, or other animals for that matter. They could use tools, recognize patterns, and solve simple puzzles. They learned from experience and communicated among themselves.. They were known to hide and store food and steal it from each other. They mated with one partner for life.
Nevertheless, they weren’t equipped to deal with a broken wing or understand English.
A vet was the only option.
“I don’t want you to die, and it sounds like your friends don’t, too. It’s either that or they’re the worst murderers I’ve ever seen. Not that I’ve seen any murderers.”
Maybe one day he’d look back at this encounter and freak out over how bizarre it was, but for now, Caspian was too wrapped up thinking about how to help the raven, even if it gave him attitude.
The injured bird glared at him.
The same outspoken raven from the periphery cawed again.
When he’d first ventured into the forest the day before, he’d quickly decided it was strange and magical. Having already deduced the forest was somehow divided from the rest of reality, Caspian didn’t find the raven’s behavior startling and strange. As it was, he didn’t give it much thought. From first arriving at Beaumont, he sensed something different and wondered if it were just the fresh air and closeness of the natural world.
“I’m going to pick you up,” Caspian warned. He set his hand a little more firmly to help him understand. The raven didn’t move, but he watched Caspian with a wary eye. “Ready?”
Caspian slipped his other hand underneath to lift it up. It was surprisingly heavy, about as much as a Chihuahua. The broken wing hung limp, and the raven didn’t struggle.
The others ruffled their feathers and paced. Caspian cast them a glance, observing the way they circled him. Fortunately, none of them approached, almost as if an invisible wall held them off. Caspian didn’t doubt that if they descended on him all at once in such a great number, and equipped with their talons and beaks, they could overpower him.
Cradling the raven against his chest, he stood and walked in the direction he’d come from.
The congress of ravens parted for him, then followed. All of them kept a respectful distance. Sometimes they hopped, sometimes they flew in short bursts. Every one of them followed. Some stuck to the ground while others abandoned the forest floor to hop from tree branch to tree branch.
The longer the birds followed him, the more convinced Caspian became that they were going to attack him. They’d rip him to shreds. He tried not to pay too much attention to this strange behavior.
The injured raven did not struggle. Its feathers were soft, and when they passed through sections of light, Caspian saw iridescent blues and greens amongst the black. It was gorgeous. Caspian wished his own black hair would reflect light like that.
They passed familiar trees and boulders as Caspian retraced his route precisely.
Now and then, one of the ravens would caw with concern.
Reluctantly, Caspian led his entourage all the way to the edge of the forest.
A raven from the group hopped into Caspian’s way when he was just yards from the house where he was staying, causing him to come to an abrupt halt.
The raven was a little bigger than the others. His feathers were puffed up to make himself look more intimidating, and he had his wings lifted but not fully expanded to drive home the illusion. He squawked and cawed and fluttered his wings without extending them.
Caspian said nothing.
What was the raven trying to do? Stop him? Warn him?
All of the others had come to a stop behind him. Their eyes bored through Caspian’s back as if they were looking straight through him into his soul.
It was unnerving.
“Okay,” Caspian said uneasily after a long silence. “I know you’re upset, but I don’t understand what you’re trying to tell me. I need to take your friend to get some help. I promise I’m going to bring him back.”
The raven in front of him clawed at the ground with his feet.
Already apprehensive, Caspian's fears grew.
“He’s got a broken wing.” Caspian knew an explanation was in vain, but it made him feel better, anyway. He hoped his voice would calm the tense situation. “If you don’t let me take him to get it fixed, and if you don’t let me keep him until he can fly again, then he’s going to die. There are probably creatures in the woods that would love to eat him. Bears? Coyotes? I don’t know what lives out there, but I can promise you, if he doesn’t die of starvation, something will eat him. I don’t want that.”
The raven stopped clawing at the ground. Its wings settled back against its sides, but it still looked at Caspian with distrustful eyes.
“I know I’m a stranger, and I know that people can be cruel and destructive, but I promise I only want what’s best for him. I couldn’t walk on by and let him die. Do you understand that, at least? If you’re his friend, then we’re on the same team. I can get him the help he needs to live.”
Caspian didn’t think a town as small as Beaumont would be home to an exotic veterinary clinic, but he knew for a fact he could find one in Riverside. If there wasn’t anything closer than four hours away, he’d bite the bullet and make the trip. He was already crazy enough to talk to ravens, anyway. Why not add a four-hour trip to save a wild animal’s life onto his insanity?
The raven in front of him made a strange noise in his throat. The bird strolled forward, snagged Caspian’s pant leg in its beak, and started to pull with all his might.
“Hey!” He squatted down to try to brush the creature away, but when he did, the raven hopped up to perch on his arm and clamped down on a lock of Caspian’s hair. Before he could act, the bird tugged.
Caspian yelped as the raven tore out his hair.
This was the end, wasn’t it? His fate, to die fifty feet from the house? Dr. Kilpatrick would come back from vacation to find a picked-over corpse in his backyard.
Perfect. Just perfect.
But the raven didn’t resume his attack. With Caspian’s hairs clutched in his beak, he hopped off Caspian’s arm and joined the others behind Caspian.
All of them stared at him, unblinking.
“Well.” Exasperated, but relieved he hadn’t been pecked to death, he said, “I think it’s time I go. Thanks for not killing me. I think.”
The ravens watched.
A chill ran down Caspian’s spine. Clutching the injured raven to his chest, he stepped out from the trees and made his way across Dr. Kilpatrick’s lawn. He couldn’t fit his key in the lock quickly enough.
He didn't easily scare, but there was something odd about those ravens that he couldn’t explain. Their behavior wasn’t normal, and Caspian doubted he’d ever see something like that again.
He got the door open and brought the raven inside, taking deep breaths in an attempt to calm his racing heart. He wondered where to place the bird. On the floor? On a towel perhaps?
“Well,” he said to the injured raven in an attempt to distract himself from the feeling he'd just had a narrow escape, “we’re home. I’m going to do a quick search to look up bird vets, and then we’re going to get going again. Until then, do you want to make yourself comfortable?”
The raven cawed. It flapped its wings—both of them.
Caspian, startled, dropped him. A moot point, because the raven flew.
“W-what the hell?” Caspian blinked rapidly. He couldn’t believe what he saw.
The raven with the broken wing flew as if it were never injured. It flew to sit on top of the door, where it craned its neck to look down as Caspian looked up. The wing, once broken and mangled, lay smooth against its side. The bird clicked its beak a few times.
“Your w-wing,” Caspian managed to say. “It was broken.”
The raven turned its head to the other side.
“I’m sure it was broken. You weren’t moving, and they were all squawking, and…” Caspian trailed off. Now that he was back in home, talking to a bird seemed insane. The raven couldn’t understand a word of English. Who did Caspian think he was—Edgar Allan Poe or Dr. Dolittle?
He shook his head. “Just…you can go. I’m not going to hold you captive.”
He’d left the back door open when they entered and hadn’t shut it yet. The bird could fly right out, so Caspian stepped well clear of the creature's means of escape.
Perched atop the door, the raven had clear sight of the outdoors.
Caspian waved his arms toward the door. “Go!”
The raven didn’t move.
Caspian sighed. He’d been bracing for a crazy afternoon, but not this kind of crazy. What was he going to do if the raven didn’t want to leave? He couldn’t strong-arm the bird out. The talons that gripped the door were wickedly sharp, and the bird could fly, apparently, thereby avoiding his grasp.
Maybe the bird was scared.
Caspian had just carried it through the forest, after all. If those other ravens were enemies, maybe it had been waiting for safety before making a move. That had to be it. Caspian knew ravens were smart.
“Okay. I’m going to go into the other room. While I’m gone, you can show yourself out the door. I’ll come back in a few minutes to close it, okay? Then neither of us has to think about this again.”
The raven kept watching him.
Caspian couldn’t help but feel like it watched him a little too intently. It was strange. He backed away from the door to make sure the raven didn’t dive-bomb him, then headed for the living room.
Wiping the sweat from his brow, he knew he’d have to get the air conditioning running or face a long hot summer. Dr. Kilpatrick had told him about the standalone air con units stored in the basement, and Caspian determined to get at least two set up as soon as possible. However, it was already his second day and he still hadn't made it to the basement.
When he settled on the couch, the raven walked into the room, boldly approaching him.
“For the love of…” Caspian sat transfixed. He couldn’t believe the fearless way the bird strolled in, unafraid, as if it had every right to be there. “Why aren’t you going? I left the door open. You had a clear escape.”
The glass door leading to the patio was a short distance away. Caspian looked through it to check for the other ravens, but saw none. Maybe this raven was a little slow. Maybe he needed to see the forest in order to remember where he belonged.
Caspian opened the sliding glass door. “There you go. There’s the forest. Go home now.”
The raven hopped up on the couch, its talons digging into the upholstery. Caspian’s mouth fell open. He was supposed to be looking after the house for the absent owner, not be bringing in wildlife to damage the furniture. If the upholstery tore, he’d be in for an unexpected expense. With a flutter of its wings, the raven moved up onto the arm of the couch.
Was it mocking Caspian?
“I… well.” Caspian closed the glass door. He approached the raven slowly, hoping the bird would let him pick him up again.
Instead, the raven clicked his beak and fluttered to the floor. He strolled away.
This has to be one of the strangest days of my life.
The raven exited the living room to head god knew where else.
“Well, when you’re ready to leave, let me know. Peck at the door or something. Just…don’t make me call animal services.”
The raven laughed from the hall.
Caspian had never heard a bird laugh before, but there was no mistaking the sound. Frowning, he settled back on the couch and decided to silence his troubled thoughts with a book. An old copy of the Harper Lee classic paperback was the closest book within reach, lying on the table beside the couch, where Caspian had left it the night before. The irony of the title wasn’t lost. No need to go and fetch his Kindle from his backpack and possibly meet his mocking bird again.
When he went to finally check on the raven, after reading for a while, the door still stood open, and the raven was nowhere to be found.