Phoenix Reborn (Woodland Creek)(9)

The eagle rivalled the firebird as one of the best pieces she’d ever made. It truly looked as though it were in flight, animated in its hunt. Perhaps her gift was in crafting flying creatures. Maybe her envy of their ability to escape earthly cares fed her talent.

She hooked it around her neck, allowing the pendant to settle on her chest. This — her eagle — was now her totem, her protection. The golden flyer who’d come to visit from above. She hoped to see him again, and that he would stick around and keep her company on her solitary walks.





4





Inspired by her creation, Ashling headed out on another hike the following morning before work. Her eyes searched the sky once again as she climbed towards the Observatory in hopes of finding her lovely friend above.

It was 7:30 a.m. and the air was crisp, the clouds painted with strokes of pink and orange as Ashling wrapped her arms around herself for warmth.

Only a vulture occupied the sky, though, and Ashling had little interest in him. She always knew the large birds by their spread wing-tip feathers, which caused them to fly in uneven circles. It always made them look slightly drunk as they went, the wind rendering their patterns erratic. Vultures were vile creatures; gawky in flight as they looked for rotting flesh to eat. They made eagles look like champion ice skaters in their grace and poise — not to mention the fact that they often regurgitated rotten meat, which no doubt smelled utterly awful. Their stomach acid was so volatile that it could dissolve metal, let alone what it might do to human flesh.

So no, the vulture was not what she wanted to admire at an early hour.

Ashling wandered, her head crooked upwards as she hunted for her golden friend from the previous day. But her progress was abruptly ended when she collided hard with something. Her arms shot out, grabbing for whatever it was, convinced for a moment that somehow a tree trunk had moved into her path.

With horror, she realized that she’d landed her palms on Hawke Turner’s stomach. She had only a moment to register how firm it was, how warm, before pulling them away.

“Well, fancy meeting you here,” he said.

Ashling’s eyes were on his, embarrassment written all over her face.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you,” he laughed, grabbing her arms to support her. “You were just so focused on the sky that I stood watching you. I wanted to see if you’d even notice me.”

“Clearly I didn’t,” she said, pulling away from his grip. Her voice was more hostile than she intended.

“Ashling, I didn’t mean to make you feel…” He looked repentant for finding the situation amusing.

“It’s fine,” she said, doing little to hide her own regret at her tone. “I was just surprised. I’m not used to running into people up here.”

Hawke looked towards the sky. “This is the best place in town to scan what’s above us, in the day or at night,” he said. “And the sky is open, free of all the crap that goes on down here.”

“I suppose that’s what appeals to me too,” she said. “It’s uncluttered. I like that.”

“So tell me: what else do you like?”

Once again, those deep eyes were taking her in, warm and inviting. Ashling studied him, assessing him. Did he really want a reply to such a question? Well, he’d asked, so she was giving it whether he liked it or not.

“I like quiet,” she said. “I like seeing new things, beautiful things. I like when people have open minds. I like being alone, but I like to talk to someone who gets me.”

“That’s a start,” he said. “And—” his hand approached her neck as he pulled her new eagle pendant away from her skin, examining it. “You like a certain sort of bird.”

“I like many sorts,” she said, trying to ignore the tingling sensation where his fingers had grazed her chest. “I’ve always envied creatures who can fly and get away from everything. The ones who can see the world from above.”

“It is pretty great,” he said, his eyes trailing back to the sky. “The sensation of it.”

“Oh? Have you done a lot of flying?”

“In planes, sure,” he said, pulling his gaze back to her. “I seem to spend half my life on a plane.”

“Of course.”

“So, did you get the things done last night that needed doing?”

“Last night?”

“You said you’ve been busy.”

“Oh right, of course. Yes. I did some work at the studio. I needed to finish a project.”

“Was it the eagle?” he asked, his fingers touching the pendant once again.

“Yes, in fact.”

“It’s beautiful. I’m impressed, Ashling. Truly.”

“Thanks.”

“Well, if you’re finished, that means you have some free time,” said Hawke. He smiled at her — he had the warmest smile, and she found herself wondering if this was just some symptom of being a talented actor. How could anyone ever trust a guy who’d won awards for pretending to be someone else?

And once again, he was coming close to implying that he’d like to go out, without actually saying the words. Ashling found her hands balling into tight fists, waiting for what she hoped and feared might come.