Birdie's Book - Andrea Burden [34]
The dark realm came into focus as we flew on. The birds flew slower as we got closer. Below us, the mountains flattened into rocky fields and the river shrank into a stream. Then the stream shrank into a creek, the creek into a trickle, until there was nothing but rocks and weeds and dead plants. We flew slowly below the dark clouds into the cold shadow below.
I was about to ask Kerka when she thought we should land, but suddenly the redbird flock dissolved into a chaotic scramble as each bird flew in a different direction to escape the storm clouds. One of them knocked into Kerka, who struggled to stay level. I saw her redbird feather drift down just as Kerka began to fall.
I dove after her, my arms by my sides to pick up speed. When I caught up to Kerka, I wrapped my arms around her (which was hard, with the pack on her back). Instantly we both stopped falling, but with such a jerk that I nearly let go again.
“Thanks!” Kerka shouted, her voice sounding funny.
“No problem!” I said. Kerka’s Kalis stick was in my face. “I can’t see. It feels like we’re still falling!”
“We are!” said Kerka. “Maybe if I hold the feather, too, we can share it?”
“Okay!” I answered. “Can you see it?”
“Yup!” she said. “Got it! Try letting go now.”
Slowly I let go with my hand that wasn’t holding the feather. Kerka didn’t fall, but we were much lower than before. The wind had died, so only the magic was holding us up.
“Spread your arms,” I suggested. “It should break our fall!”
For the last twenty feet or so to the ground, we spread our arms wide. My cloak caught the last of the Redbird Wind. Slowly, slowly, we spun, twirling like a giant moose wing.
Then we landed not so gracefully—bam!—right on our behinds (even Kerka).
“Whew!” I exclaimed. “That started out fun, but I’m glad it’s over.”
Kerka laughed and jumped to her feet. As usual, she looked around as if she were the guide. Now she nodded approvingly in each direction. “Looks safe enough to me,” she announced. “Let’s go, Birdie.” And off she went, without looking back.
It didn’t feel safe to me. I didn’t even want to breathe in because the smell was like something old that needed a serious bath. There was a feeling of unsettling stillness, like dead air, and it seemed to seep into my skin, making my insides itchy. All around were rocks and dust and dead and dying plants. It made my heart hurt.
“The living dead,” I murmured. Then I had an idea. I bent down and whispered, “Ave, amici.”
The plants were still and silent.
I tried again, but I could tell there wasn’t a chance. Any dreamland magic was gone from them, as was their life.
I sighed and stood up; the itchy-aching feeling grew worse. In the distance, the black clouds were occasionally lit by sharp jabs of lightning. Rumbles of thunder followed, and the ground shook even where we were. Kerka was already walking toward the jungle, into that dark rumbling, her clothes grayed by the dust and dirt.
“Kerka!” I called.
But she didn’t turn around, and all of a sudden she was making me itchy and unsettled, too. She was leaving me behind as if this were her quest, not mine! I sighed. What had happened to my resolve? It was as if the moment I’d landed, every feeling I had was bad.
“Wait up!” I hollered to Kerka; I could barely see her now. I felt myself growing furious. She was showing off, thinking that she was stronger and more determined than I was!
“Wait, Kerka!” I yelled. I started running, until I finally caught up with her and was slightly out of breath. “Why didn’t you stop?” I asked.
Kerka didn’t answer, just kept marching. Why was she being a jerk, not paying any attention to me?
“What’s the matter with you?” I asked irritably.
“We must prepare for action,” she said, her eyes focused straight ahead, her back stiff as my calla lily mother’s.
“It’s awful here,” I said. “Can’t you feel it? There’s nothing growing at all. Nothing!” Kerka was silent. “It’s worse than the Concrete City,” I went on. “And my butt still hurts from that landing.”
Kerka stopped short, and without even turning around, she said fiercely,