head on a swivel for anything that doesn’t look right to you. I’m asking Kent to put you down there as soon as it’s feasible. And if you find something you can’t put into a report, then exercise your privilege as my niece and ask for a face-to-face with your good old uncle.”
I nodded, and he sat back in the chair as if he had never said anything at all.
We chatted for a while about inconsequential things after that. He relaxed, and so did I. I asked him more things about my dad and mom, and whether or not he knew any of my Masters himself. It was such a relief to actually be able to talk about home without censoring every word that came out of my mouth!
As it turned out, he knew Lady Rhiannon when they were both kids, before his whole family moved to Apex. And he knew Master Begay and Master Jeffries, who were now senior, senior Masters, as just Hunters.
Just as we were talking about Master Jeffries, another of those gut-clenching barrages of thunder shook the entire building, and the lights dimmed for a moment. I held my breath, afraid they would go out—but they came back up again.
“Storms like this remind me of the time the Thunderbirds came over Anston’s Well, and all the Hunters had worked together to create a Shield to protect the entire village from them,” he said. “I was only a kid then. Just ten years old.”
I’d heard the story from Master Begay, who had only been a Hunter then, but this was a chance to hear it from Uncle! “What was that like?” I asked, a little breathlessly.
“I’ve been thinking about that story a lot lately,” he told me as I leaned forward in my chair to listen. “We knew the storm was coming, and we’d need firewood to carry us through because we wouldn’t be able to get outside once it started. Everyone who was old enough to carry even a little wood was out by the splitters, gathering up as much as we could hold and running it into the houses. I can’t remember how many armloads I’d carried—twenty, forty, maybe more—when Sheila Yazzy screamed and dropped her wood and pointed at the sky. We all looked up and saw them, coming in on the storm front. Black against the clouds, you knew the minute you clapped eyes on them they were something other than eagles. Long necks, long forked tails—they had raptors’ beaks and eyes that glowed brilliant red. Even as high as they were, the eyes shone so bright you could see them from the ground.”
I’d seen Thunderbirds at a great distance, though never more than two at a time. I could see it in my head, the towering, charcoal-colored storm clouds, stark against the blue sky, and black against them, the Thunderbirds. Like cutouts of black paper, because they soared more than they flew, and with that storm wind under their wings, they wouldn’t have had to flap at all. You would hardly know they were living things, except for the movement at the tips of their wings, their heads shifting as they would look down at their prey, and those fiery red eyes.
“We all stood there, paralyzed, when someone, I don’t know who, had the presence of mind to run and blow the alarm horn. That broke the spell on us, and we ran for shelter. The two Hunters of Anston’s Well—that would be Shadi Newsom and Yanaba Yellowhorse back then, they put up their Shields to cover the whole village, and just in time, for the first of the Thunderbirds canted over sideways and began a diving run. Have you ever seen them attack?”
I shook my head. There hadn’t been Thunderbirds anywhere near the Mountain in all the time I’d lived there—only way, way off in the distance, and they never menaced us. I knew that the story of this attack was the reason why.
“They dove out of the sky, but not like a falcon or an eagle with folded wings. They came down slowly, in a descending spiral, with their wings spread. And as they came, lightning struck from out of their eyes and their mouths.”
It was easy to picture; something Drakken-size
I nodded, and he sat back in the chair as if he had never said anything at all.
We chatted for a while about inconsequential things after that. He relaxed, and so did I. I asked him more things about my dad and mom, and whether or not he knew any of my Masters himself. It was such a relief to actually be able to talk about home without censoring every word that came out of my mouth!
As it turned out, he knew Lady Rhiannon when they were both kids, before his whole family moved to Apex. And he knew Master Begay and Master Jeffries, who were now senior, senior Masters, as just Hunters.
Just as we were talking about Master Jeffries, another of those gut-clenching barrages of thunder shook the entire building, and the lights dimmed for a moment. I held my breath, afraid they would go out—but they came back up again.
“Storms like this remind me of the time the Thunderbirds came over Anston’s Well, and all the Hunters had worked together to create a Shield to protect the entire village from them,” he said. “I was only a kid then. Just ten years old.”
I’d heard the story from Master Begay, who had only been a Hunter then, but this was a chance to hear it from Uncle! “What was that like?” I asked, a little breathlessly.
“I’ve been thinking about that story a lot lately,” he told me as I leaned forward in my chair to listen. “We knew the storm was coming, and we’d need firewood to carry us through because we wouldn’t be able to get outside once it started. Everyone who was old enough to carry even a little wood was out by the splitters, gathering up as much as we could hold and running it into the houses. I can’t remember how many armloads I’d carried—twenty, forty, maybe more—when Sheila Yazzy screamed and dropped her wood and pointed at the sky. We all looked up and saw them, coming in on the storm front. Black against the clouds, you knew the minute you clapped eyes on them they were something other than eagles. Long necks, long forked tails—they had raptors’ beaks and eyes that glowed brilliant red. Even as high as they were, the eyes shone so bright you could see them from the ground.”
I’d seen Thunderbirds at a great distance, though never more than two at a time. I could see it in my head, the towering, charcoal-colored storm clouds, stark against the blue sky, and black against them, the Thunderbirds. Like cutouts of black paper, because they soared more than they flew, and with that storm wind under their wings, they wouldn’t have had to flap at all. You would hardly know they were living things, except for the movement at the tips of their wings, their heads shifting as they would look down at their prey, and those fiery red eyes.
“We all stood there, paralyzed, when someone, I don’t know who, had the presence of mind to run and blow the alarm horn. That broke the spell on us, and we ran for shelter. The two Hunters of Anston’s Well—that would be Shadi Newsom and Yanaba Yellowhorse back then, they put up their Shields to cover the whole village, and just in time, for the first of the Thunderbirds canted over sideways and began a diving run. Have you ever seen them attack?”
I shook my head. There hadn’t been Thunderbirds anywhere near the Mountain in all the time I’d lived there—only way, way off in the distance, and they never menaced us. I knew that the story of this attack was the reason why.
“They dove out of the sky, but not like a falcon or an eagle with folded wings. They came down slowly, in a descending spiral, with their wings spread. And as they came, lightning struck from out of their eyes and their mouths.”
It was easy to picture; something Drakken-size
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