It better be a good one.
The Shin'a'in were still searching the ruins for Falconsbane, though Darkwind was certain that he was long gone out of reach, and Elspeth agreed with him Of them all, only the gryphons were happy, despite wounds and pain.
Somehow Need had transmuted the power of Falconsbane's magic into something that burned the little ones clean of his taint. Need might not think much of her own abilities, compared with Elspeth's potential, but Darkwind was impressed. Transmuting was evidently a very rare ability.
The adults had taken the young ones to the lair and curled up in there, refusing to budge unless it were direst emergency.
Beside her, Darkwind leaned back against the rock supporting him, and stared at the red-shouldered hawk perched above the door of the lair, her head up and into the wind, her wings slightly mantled. He looked haunted, somehow. As she studied his face, Elspeth thought she read pain and anxiety there, though it was hard to tell what the Hawkbrother was truly feeling.
But when he looked at Dawnfire, that was when the feeling of tension solidified.
It's her. that's what isn't finished. She can't stay the way she is-She wrapped Cymry's foreleg to add support, and looked over at the bird herself.
Dawnfire-what were they going to do about her? She was still trapped in the body of a bird.
Even the Shin'a'in seem to feel sorry for her-or something.
The Shin'a'in were returning from their hunt by ones and twos, all of them gathering as if by prearrangement on the area below Dawnfire's perch, all of them silent. They seemed in no hurry to leave, and Elspeth mostly ignored them in favor of the task at hand despite the growing tension in the air. Even if something was about to happen, there wasn't much she could do about it.
Then Cymry's nervous snort made her look up.
As far as she could tell, all of the Shin'a'in had returned and now they were standing in a rough circle below Dawnfire. All but the shaman, that is; he had left Skif and now knelt beside Darkwind, with an odd expression as if he were waiting...this is it. this is what I've been feeling-this is the cause of all the tension and pressure Were they glowing slightly, or was that only her imagination? There seemed to be a hazy dome of light covering them all.
One of the Shin'a'in, a woman by the build, finally moved.
Kra'heera grabbed Darkwind's shoulders and physically restrained him from standing up, as the woman put up a hand to Dawnfire. The bird stared measuringly at her for a moment, then stepped down from her perch onto the proffered hand, and the woman turned to face the rest.
Like all the others, this one was clad entirely in black, from her long black hair to her black armor, to her tall black boots. But there was something wrong with her eyes... something odd.
Darkwind struggled in earnest against the shaman, but he was too weak to squirm out of Kra'heera's hands. 'Be silent, boy!' the shaman hissed at him as he continued to fight. 'Have you any life to offer her?
Would you watch her fade before your eyes until there is nothing left of her?' Elspeth paid scant attention to them, concentrating instead on the black-clad woman who had taken Dawnfire. There was something very unusual about her-a feeling of contained power. Elspeth Felt the stirring of a kind of deeply-running energy she had never experienced before, and found herself holding her breath.
The woman raised Dawnfire high above her head and held her there, a position that must have been a torment after a few moments, and as she did so, the entire group started to hum.
Softly, then increasing slowly in volume, until the ruins rang with the harmonics-and Dawnfire began to glow.
At first Elspeth thought it was just a trick of the setting sun, touching the bird's feathers and making them seem to give off their own light.
But then, the light grew brighter instead of darker, and Dawnfire straightened and spread her wings-and began to grow larger as well as brighter.
Within heartbeats, Elspeth couldn't even look at her directly. In a few moments more, she was averting her face, though Darkwind continued to stare, squinting, into the light, a look of desperation on his face. The light from the bird's outstretched wings was bright enough to cast shadows; the black-clad Shin'a'in seeming to be shadows themselves, until the bird appeared to be ruling over a host of shades.
The Shin'a'in shaman caught her staring at him. He met her eyes, then returned to gaze fearlessly into the light, and seemed to sense her questions. 'Dawnfire has been chosen by the Warrior,' he said, as if that explained everything.
