S. Bolton - Dead Scared

Nick held out his arm and the falcon stepped on to it. ‘The essential difference between freefall and a controlled dive is that a peregrine can pull himself out of a dive in two seconds.’

I took a step closer to them both. ‘Will he let me touch him?’ I asked. The bird looked at me as if to say, Try it, sweetheart .

‘He’s a bit jumpy,’ said Nick. ‘Even I have to watch myself. Leah will, though.’ He put his arm back to the perch and the falcon graciously stepped down.

‘Put this on.’ Nick was holding out a long leather glove. I pulled it on over my right hand. It stretched halfway up my arm. Then Nick raised my arm until it was horizontal and led me further into the shed until we were both surrounded by intense black eyes. He lifted the owl from her perch and put her gently down on my outstretched arm. She was almost entirely white except that the feathers on her back and wings were the colour you might see if a tortoiseshell cat was turning slowly to gold.

‘She weighs nothing,’ I said, lifting my arm a fraction. She gave a little jump and shook her wing feathers.

‘She’s really just a pet,’ Nick replied. ‘A barn owl. Owls aren’t much good for hunting. I fly her sometimes, just for fun.’

‘And these birds hunt for you?’ I asked. ‘They actually catch food that you eat?’

‘More than I can eat. That’s why Liz comes in handy. You should come out with me one day.’

‘Do you fly them every day?’

‘In the season, yes.’

‘How do you find time to work?’ I asked.

‘I’m a GP,’ he said. ‘We work part time and get paid a fortune. Don’t you read the papers?’

Leah turned her head to look directly at me. There was something a bit eerie about the way her head could move independently of her body. Nick reached out and ran his hand lightly over her crown. As his hand left her, she seemed to stretch up towards him.

‘Never thought I’d hear one of you admit it,’ I said.

‘Oh, I’m always honest about the small things,’ he said. ‘That way the big lies tend to go unnoticed. You weren’t too sure when you came in, were you?’

‘Not really,’ I said. ‘A bird very like these attacked me yesterday.’

‘Where?’

‘A couple of miles from here. Not far out of town. I was out running. I thought I might lose my eyes at one point. It was a bit freaky.’

‘Describe it for me,’ he said.

As best I could, from memory, I described the bird that had flown at me the day before. I gave a rough idea of its wingspan, the colour of its feathers. ‘Bigger than these,’ I finished, looking carefully at the falcons. ‘And with different feathers underneath.’

‘Sounds like a buzzard,’ said Nick.

‘Are they known for rowdy behaviour?’

‘Well, funnily enough, it’s not unheard of,’ he replied. ‘Especially in the summer when they’ve got young in the nests. This time of year, though, it is unusual. I can only imagine it had been kept in captivity at some point and became used to humans providing food.’

The birds sensed the commotion before we heard it. One second they were relaxed, getting used to our presence, maybe even enjoying the unexpected company, the next there was a massive ruffling of feathers, excited jumping around and frantic squawking. Nick gave the door a worried glance before reaching out to take Leah from me. He put her back on her perch, spoke softly to the others and led me to the door.

‘You there, Nick?’ called a man’s voice. I stayed in the shed. I’d recognized that voice.

‘We’re here,’ called Nick. ‘What’s up?’

‘There’s a dog in with the yows down at Tydes End,’ said the voice I knew. ‘Causing fuckin’ mayhem, according to Sam.’

Nick sucked in a deep breath. ‘Shit,’ he said. ‘It’s too bloody dark. We’ll need lights.’

‘Got ’em. John’s taken the truck down. I said we’d follow.’

Nick turned to me. I had no choice but to step outside. Two men had approached. One was a tall dark-haired man in his late forties who looked as though he ate too much red meat. The other was smaller and slimmer, with silver hair and narrow-set eyes. He was the man called Jim whom Liz had pointed out earlier. He was also the farmer-bully who’d turned me out of the scary woods the previous day.

‘Laura, can you make your way back to the house?’ Nick said. ‘I’ll be back as soon as I can.’

I sensed Jim hadn’t recognized me. The day before, I’d been in jogging clothes, my hair pulled back and dark with sweat, no make-up. Dressed for a party I looked very different. ‘Of course,’ I replied. ‘Everything all right?’

‘There’s a dog worrying the sheep a couple of fields along,’ said Nick. ‘They’re all in lamb so it’s pretty serious. Half the flock could miscarry if we don’t get it out of there. Back soon.’

He patted my shoulder and was off, stopping only to unlock the last shed in the row and pull something that looked a lot like a shotgun out of it. Then he and the other two men disappeared over a fence and across the field.

Jessica walked on, further into the forest, and gradually became aware that the light was changing. The trees were no longer black and silver in the moonlight but a pale shade of gold. They were gleaming all around her, glowing brightly as though reflecting back sunshine. She looked up. As each tree reached the midnight-blue sky, the gold trunks splintered into a glittering cobweb of branches. And tiny pieces of gold were drifting down from above. At first Jessica thought they were falling leaves, but as one landed on her outstretched arm she realized it was snowing.

The snowflake, nearly three centimetres in diameter, stayed on her wrist. She could see its intricate pattern, like the inside of a kaleidoscope, against her pale skin. She watched it melt and others take its place. Golden snowflakes were falling all around her, landing on her arms, her legs, her hair, and covering the ground like a carpet of silk.

Jessica stood up. She had never seen anything so beautiful in her life as this golden wood, in which the trees seemed almost to be growing before her eyes. She could see them breathing, their long, strong trunks swelling as they took in air, then relaxing as they breathed out again. She’d always known that trees breathed, all plants did, but had never thought she’d actually see it happening.

With each breath they grew a little taller. And were they singing? They were. The trees were singing to her, a soft, high-pitched, almost tuneless song, like the sound whales make when they call to each other across hundreds of miles of ocean. It was the sort of music you might hear among the stars.

Jessica turned on the spot, listening to the trees call to each other, knowing that if she stood here and listened hard, she might actually start to understand what they were saying. She realized she wasn’t afraid any more. There was nothing to be afraid of in a wood so beautiful. She took a step closer to the nearest tree and reached out. It was warm and soft, like the skin on a warm-blooded animal. She stroked it and felt the tree purr in response like a great cat.

From behind her came a low-pitched chuckle.

Jessica jumped round, her back against the cat-like tree. Someone was watching her. Inching her way round the tree, she began to back away. She’d long since left the path behind. She had only the light from the golden trees to guide her, and the soft iridescence of the snow at her feet. She backed up against another tree and worked her way round it. She almost stumbled but managed to get her balance in time.

Still watching her. And getting closer. She couldn’t see them but she could hear them breathing, smell the bitter, stale male odour.