Wild is the Witch (14)

Is that what will become of my life, a story mothers tell their children at bedtime?

I press my palms into the cold stone and try to ground myself, try to slow my heart and even my breaths.

The only good thing to come from all my reading is that the curse can be unbound from the owl just as easily as it was bound to him in the first place. It just needs what the book calls a “kindred home.”

I stand and gently put the book back on the shelf, then I run to the refuge. When I get to the oldest part of the forest, I slow to a walk and slip behind a tree, just in case anyone is walking the property. I’ve seen the owl enough to draw a perfect mental image of him, his dark eyes and curved beak, the white feathers that form half-moons around his eyes. His brown feathers and white spots. And even now, though I haven’t found him, I’m sure he’s close.

There is magic in him as sure as there is magic in me, and I close my eyes and search for him, seeking out his energy amid everything else. He carries a curse that I wrote—I’ll be able to locate him, and when I do, I will track him.

But maybe that won’t be necessary. I feel him almost instantly, close by, and I slowly turn in the direction of the pull and open my eyes. There, not four trees away, is the northern spotted owl, watching me from the hollow of an old fir tree. If he only knew the magic he held inside him, the curse that could change my whole world.

I tentatively take one step closer, then another. He watches me but doesn’t move, and if I can just get close enough, I can remove the curse from him and bind it to something new. A kindred home.

I take two more steps, then pull the herbs from my pocket as the owl’s gaze follows my movements.

“There you are,” a voice says behind me. “How’s my second best?”

My magic scatters, and the owl snaps his neck in the direction of the voice. I watch helplessly as he takes off from the tree and flies up up up, past the aviary and visitor’s office, over the fence, and well into the land beyond the refuge.

Gone.

“What is wrong with you?” I yell at Pike, not caring that my voice is loud and frantic. “Now he’s gone!” I shout, my hands shaking and my vision blurring.

Come on, Iris, I tell myself. Stay in control. You’re okay.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Pike says, holding his hands up. “Relax. I didn’t even see the owl.”

“Now I’ll never find him.” I watch the sky for another moment before turning to Pike. “Please tell me you have something important to say. I can’t bear the thought of you scaring off the owl for literally no other reason than that’s just how obnoxious you are.”

“Ouch,” Pike says, and even though his tone is casual, I wince as I replay the words in my head.

“I’m sorry,” I start, but Pike waves it off as if it’s nothing.

“Your mom is looking for you. She wants you to meet her at your house for something,” he says, shoving a hand through his thick hair. His glasses have slipped down the bridge of his nose, and he pushes them up with one finger and looks at me.

I tilt my head toward the sky, hoping to see that the owl has come back, knowing all the while he hasn’t. Still, I slowly scan the treetops, searching for him.

“It’s gone,” Pike says. “Did you know the northern spotted owl was practically famous around here during the logging debates in the nineties? Its population has been declining for years as our old-growth forests are cut down. It’s too bad you lost ours.”

“I didn’t lose ours,” I say frantically, shaking my head and starting to pace. But he’s right: the northern spotted owl is getting close to vanishing from Washington altogether, and I went and lost the only one we had at the refuge. I stop moving when I feel Pike’s eyes on me, when I realize he’s watching me as I come undone.

“It looks that way to me,” he says, his voice teetering on the edge of mocking. I turn away so he can’t see my eyes glisten or my skin redden, and I slip my hands in my pockets to hide their shaking. If Pike weren’t so thoughtless, weren’t so arrogant, weren’t so casual in his cruelty toward witches, none of this would have happened.

I know he didn’t force me to cast the spell, but all I want in this moment is to be away from him. I needed relief from Pike, needed to vent my frustrations so my dislike of him could ease, and instead it’s worse now than it has ever been before.

“Would it kill you to be nice for once in your life, or are you actually set on making my day worse?” He looks surprised, like he doesn’t realize how upset I am, but he doesn’t say anything. I shake my head. “I’m going to find my mom.”

I know I should walk home, tell my mom what happened, and get her help in fixing this, but I’m terrified. The magnitude of it is unthinkable, and the thought of putting that weight on her makes me sick to my stomach. So instead, I walk to the acres of forested land where our wolves roam.

I let myself in through the metal gate, walk to my favorite tree, and lie down beneath it. It isn’t long until Winter finds me and licks my face, then sits down next to me and watches the fence line. My faithful protector.

I stare up at the trees above me, trying to make my thoughts slow down so I can form some kind of plan. I once again picture the owl in my mind, and I’m able to form a connection, feel his presence even though he’s miles away by now.