Black Sun (Between Earth and Sky, #1)(111)

Benundah bumped her head against Okoa’s shoulder so forcefully he had to catch himself.

“What are you doing?” he asked her, and she bumped him again, as if chastising him.

“Do you want to see him for yourself?” he asked. She ruffled her feathers, a kind of affirmative, so he held the man out and let his crow inspect the body. She prodded at the man with her beak, blowing puffs of air over his blood-caked form, until she finally seemed satisfied. She spread her wings, a sign for Okoa to mount.

He draped the man over her broad back before climbing on behind him. Once in his seat, he pulled the man upright until his body rested in the cradle of his own and his legs straddled Benundah’s wide neck. He wrapped an arm tight around his chest and grasped the reins with his other hand. The balance would be tricky, but he knew Benundah would be careful.

The great corvid took to the air, breaking through the circle of crows above them. Okoa had been so preoccupied with the battlefield below him that he had failed to notice the sky. Time appeared suspended, the world in deep blue twilight between day and night, and the eclipsed sun quivered in bands of barely seen red behind the swollen moon.

He shivered, unsettled. First the triple sun at dawn, now the halted eclipse. What did it mean?

Benundah wheeled west, away from the aviary, and he pulled her steady. But she fought him, forcing them west. West to the rookery, the safest place for a crow. A thrill shivered down his spine. He had never seen the rookery, no human had. But he trusted her to know best.

He hugged the Odo Sedoh tightly to his chest to keep him from slipping. The man’s head lolled back to rest on Okoa’s shoulder. At first Okoa thought it only the wind, but then he realized the man had purposefully tucked his head in the crook of Okoa’s neck. Okoa inhaled sharply as the man’s eyelids fluttered open.

“Hold on!” Okoa shouted over the wind. “If you can hear me, hold on. We’re going home.”