Read Online The Princess and the Snowbird by Mette Ivie Harrison - Free Book Online
Authors: Mette Ivie Harrison
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think how.”
“Animals die,” she said.
“In that, we are the same,” said Jens.
“In more than that.”
Jens wondered whether she would kiss him again, butshe changed back into an owl and the blanket dropped to the floor. He watched as the owl flew toward the south without turning back or making a sound. But she had been there. The improvement in his leg proved that.
He watched her fly away and turned to enter the hut. Seeing something fluttering on the ground, he bent down and picked it up. An owl feather, speckled with black and white in as distinct a pattern as the snowbird’s white threaded with silver. He turned it over in his fingers with a smile before adding it to his pouch and returning to his hut. His father would be home soon, but for now he could think of her and imagine that she was still with him.
When he woke in the morning, his father was shouting at him to get up and go to the stream for water to boil for breakfast. Jens went for it, his leg much better, and he thought of the girl who had done it and how nothing else mattered.
C HAPTER N INE
Liva
L IVA FLEW FAST , making her way south back over the river. She saw no bear tracks and felt no trace of her father’s magic. She might have to be closer to him to sense him. She hoped that he was well. She had not meant to stay that long with Jens, but time had slipped so quickly away. She could not stop thinking about the boy even now.
She tried to think of an animal form for Jens that would be fitting. He was as protective as a bear, as tender as a doe, and as smart as an eagle. He should be in a form that could soar—and he should sing, for his voice fell on her ears like music.
But his village and his own father treated him terribly, all because he had none of the tehr-magic. Liva was glad he did not, for she did not think she could love anyone who used magic selfishly like that.
She dove down to a stream and changed into humanform to drink and rest. She liked the form more now than ever, despite the cold. Jens had recognized her as the pika and as the owl, but they could only speak together when she was human, and she loved how she felt when they talked. She cupped her hands, splashed icy water over her face, then leaned back against the rocks to watch the clouds in the sky move by.
It was then that Liva saw the great shadow of the bird.
Liva stopped to look up at it, and then she could not move. It was beautiful, its white feathers glinting with silver underneath its wings, and its sheer size made her feel faint. Larger than any bird she had seen, it seemed to be coming just for her, for it flew directly overhead. Compared with the aur-magic in this snowbird, Liva’s was a drop of water against a storm. She felt like sobbing out her empty sorrow as the bird passed by, casting a huge shadow over her, but she could not speak at all.
Liva flew through the night and stopped only when she heard a bellowing at the break of dawn. She felt blindly in her magic for the source.
It was some distance away, but hot and familiar.
Her father.
She flew toward him, glad at last that the storm had gone and the sky was clear. She called out to tell her father that she was coming for him, but he did not answer her.
When she was close enough to see the blood drippingfrom his neck, Liva could tell he was badly wounded. He staggered forward, making inarticulate sounds.
Who had attacked him? Men from the village? But they could never have passed her. And for her father to be wounded so, with his experience and his size, there had to have been many humans involved.
But the closer that Liva came to him, the stranger—and colder—the wound seemed.
He did not seem to recognize her, even when she swooped down from the air and changed into bear form before his eyes.
He moved jerkily and in circles, as if he had lost all sense of direction. He muttered to himself, and when Liva put a paw to him, she felt the same lack of magic she had felt in Jens.
She had
“Animals die,” she said.
“In that, we are the same,” said Jens.
“In more than that.”
Jens wondered whether she would kiss him again, butshe changed back into an owl and the blanket dropped to the floor. He watched as the owl flew toward the south without turning back or making a sound. But she had been there. The improvement in his leg proved that.
He watched her fly away and turned to enter the hut. Seeing something fluttering on the ground, he bent down and picked it up. An owl feather, speckled with black and white in as distinct a pattern as the snowbird’s white threaded with silver. He turned it over in his fingers with a smile before adding it to his pouch and returning to his hut. His father would be home soon, but for now he could think of her and imagine that she was still with him.
When he woke in the morning, his father was shouting at him to get up and go to the stream for water to boil for breakfast. Jens went for it, his leg much better, and he thought of the girl who had done it and how nothing else mattered.
C HAPTER N INE
Liva
L IVA FLEW FAST , making her way south back over the river. She saw no bear tracks and felt no trace of her father’s magic. She might have to be closer to him to sense him. She hoped that he was well. She had not meant to stay that long with Jens, but time had slipped so quickly away. She could not stop thinking about the boy even now.
She tried to think of an animal form for Jens that would be fitting. He was as protective as a bear, as tender as a doe, and as smart as an eagle. He should be in a form that could soar—and he should sing, for his voice fell on her ears like music.
But his village and his own father treated him terribly, all because he had none of the tehr-magic. Liva was glad he did not, for she did not think she could love anyone who used magic selfishly like that.
She dove down to a stream and changed into humanform to drink and rest. She liked the form more now than ever, despite the cold. Jens had recognized her as the pika and as the owl, but they could only speak together when she was human, and she loved how she felt when they talked. She cupped her hands, splashed icy water over her face, then leaned back against the rocks to watch the clouds in the sky move by.
It was then that Liva saw the great shadow of the bird.
Liva stopped to look up at it, and then she could not move. It was beautiful, its white feathers glinting with silver underneath its wings, and its sheer size made her feel faint. Larger than any bird she had seen, it seemed to be coming just for her, for it flew directly overhead. Compared with the aur-magic in this snowbird, Liva’s was a drop of water against a storm. She felt like sobbing out her empty sorrow as the bird passed by, casting a huge shadow over her, but she could not speak at all.
Liva flew through the night and stopped only when she heard a bellowing at the break of dawn. She felt blindly in her magic for the source.
It was some distance away, but hot and familiar.
Her father.
She flew toward him, glad at last that the storm had gone and the sky was clear. She called out to tell her father that she was coming for him, but he did not answer her.
When she was close enough to see the blood drippingfrom his neck, Liva could tell he was badly wounded. He staggered forward, making inarticulate sounds.
Who had attacked him? Men from the village? But they could never have passed her. And for her father to be wounded so, with his experience and his size, there had to have been many humans involved.
But the closer that Liva came to him, the stranger—and colder—the wound seemed.
He did not seem to recognize her, even when she swooped down from the air and changed into bear form before his eyes.
He moved jerkily and in circles, as if he had lost all sense of direction. He muttered to himself, and when Liva put a paw to him, she felt the same lack of magic she had felt in Jens.
She had
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