She hummed in agreement. “Maybe there are parts of the woods we can use, but they’re ornithologists. They’ll be looking for birds.”
“And I’ll have the best vantage point from the sky,” he argued. “There’s only one of them at the moment. Now’s the perfect time to scope out exactly where her camp is, and then tomorrow we can keep an eye on them. Send in other shifters.” The scientists would get suspicious if they saw the same bird hanging around all the time.
“Voluntarily.”
He smiled. “Of course. And you’d have to choose the right ones.”
Another hum of agreement. “Okay. When do you want to head out? Tonight?”
“Yes.” The sun was about to set, and a hawk wouldn’t look out of place around dusk. “Only until I find out where she’s put up her tent.” That would give them enough information to work with for now. “If I go tonight, I doubt the scientist will notice me.” She’d only just gotten here and would still be getting her bearings.
“Humans can’t see well in the dark,” she agreed. “All right, Simon, but it has to be a quick scouting mission only. I need more information to discuss things with the local council. Let me know what you find.”
“Will do.” He handed the phone to his father with a satisfied smile. Instead of scientists watching birds, there’d be birds watching the scientists.
His father frowned. “Are you sure you want to go out now? Dinner will be ready soon.”
“I can’t go out after dark.” His hawk had excellent vision, but he wasn’t nocturnal. “I won’t be gone for hours. I’m sure it’ll taste great after it’s been in the microwave.” He gave his father a sunny smile.
The older man sighed. “I know I can’t stop you. Best you head out now. The sooner you go, the sooner you’re back.”
He couldn’t blame his father for being worried. The shifters of Kirkwood had kept their secret for generations, even with scientists visiting the surrounding area since the nineties. “I’ll be careful.”
He told his mother about his plans, reassured her he would be fine, then headed into the backyard to shift. His clothes fell on the grass as he flew into the crisp evening sky. As always, those first few beats of his wings against the air were a joy. He circled above the house, relishing how quick and agile he was, before heading east to the nearby woods.
Considering the hills and the terrain, there were only a few places suitable for camping. He doubted the ornithologists would want to be too far from civilization even if they were here for research.
The sky was slowly turning orange and red, and he saw mice scurrying on the ground.
Catch them!
He regretted heading out before dinner, but not enough to swoop down and catch a mouse. He flew over the forest in a large circle, just above the treetops, searching for tents or other signs of humans. When he glimpsed something red, he flew over to investigate.
It was a human in a red jacket with long, blonde hair in a ponytail falling across a backpack. The scientist or a random hiker? He’d have to get closer to investigate.
He flew down among the trees, swerving to avoid them. His hawk was more interested in the animals scurrying on the forest floor, but Simon focused on the woman in the red jacket. She was only a couple of hundred yards away.
He hoped she was heading back to her tent. It was getting darker, especially with the branches keeping the last rays of sunshine out. He didn’t want her to get lost or hurt, even if her presence made life more difficult for him and the rest of Kirkwood.
He kept his eyes on her as he flew, wondering how close he should get. The jacket stood out, so he wouldn’t easily lose track of her. But the paths in this part of the forest twisted and turned. What if she followed a bend, and he missed it? What if—
Thin threads pressed against his chest and wings, ensnaring him. He struggled to get free, but instead more thin threads wrapped around him.
His hawk panicked, thrashing his wings as much as possible in an attempt to stay airborne. Simon struggled to remain calm, snapping at the net and trying to tear free using his claws, but he failed. One claw got caught, and he screeched when he realized he’d only gotten himself more stuck now. The material was tougher than it looked.
This had to be a net the scientists used to catch birds.
And he’d been stupid enough to fly into one.
Considering how fine the net was, he wasn’t surprised. The threads were thin and almost impossible to see in the dark.
This was why the scientist had been out here. She’d put up the net, then headed back to camp.
Humiliation burned through him, stronger than the pain. His hawk’s pride as a predator was as wounded as his own.
But unlike regular birds, he had an escape plan. He could shift, free himself from the net, then fly home and warn people about the nets. He’d just leave out the part about how he’d found out.
Okay, the scientist would find a destroyed net, but that probably happened all the time. She’d blame it on some wild animal. Maybe she’d think twice about putting up these nets.
She must’ve heard his panicked screeching, because he saw the red jacket heading his way. She was only fifty yards away. If he shifted now, she’d definitely see him.
This evening was not going at all the way he’d planned.
Attack them for trapping us! his hawk insisted, pride still hurt after being captured, and Simon agreed. It would be weird if a trapped hawk didn’t attack, after all. And maybe, once he’d had dinner, he could fly back here and find a branch above her tent to let her know how he felt
