Revenge by Fiona McIntosh Page A

It turned and made for the trees but Cloot used his immense speed from the descent to swoop, claws outstretched. Tor could almost smell the young buck’s fear as it zigzagged instinctively. They hit the hare with terrible force. The falcon’s sharp claws ripped through its fur and sunk in deeply, tearing flesh as the bird continued its momentum. Finally they stopped, just inches fromthe trees. Tor remembered Solyana’s warning: no animal may be killed in the Heartwood. Cloot had been very careful.
    The dying hare struggled bravely, yet knowing that death was but a breath away. Cloot kept his word. It was over quickly and once his razor-sharp beak had ripped into the creature’s neck, Tor had the sensation of tasting blood. It was warm and rich, pumping still as the heart of the hare—now in its death throes—slowed.
    A mixture of fascination and horror claimed Tor’s consciousness. There was something primeval about this feast which he did not feel he should share. He was an intruder in Cloot’s body. This was not his business. He tried to shield. He could not. They were one right now. And so he did what he could and withdrew, pulling himself as far back into the spirit of Tor as possible. Small and silent he waited whilst Cloot fed for both of them.
    Later, Cloot perched on one of the highest branches of the tallest tree and cleaned himself of the hare’s entrails.
    That was not fun for you, Tor. It was not a question.
    Is it for you?
    More than I could tell you. I feel invincible, all-powerful, during the chase.
    Flying with you is amazing. Feeding with you is not. Thank you for making it quick.
    Cloot began sharpening his beak. We’ll be off shortly but I must complete my ablutions.
    Don’t hurry for me, old friend. My body’s just dying back there.
    They shared a laugh together. It felt almost like old times when life had not been quite so complicated.
    Do we have a plan, Tor?
    Not really. Languishing back in the Heartwood felt wrong. Reading those books seemed to snap me out of a stupor. Goth is dangerous and still at large. Orlac is still coming. Alyssa remains in danger and ever apart from me. Nothing has changed.
    And we are still none the wiser about the Trinity.
    Well, doing something at least feels as though we’re trying.
    I agree. So let’s get on with it.
    Cloot lifted effortlessly from his perch and suddenly his wings were beating smoothly and strongly in glorious flight again. Relax now, he said gently. We shall be flying steadily for a few hours.

5
Old Friends and Enemies
    They arrived mid-afternoon at the busy port of Caradoon, which they had found by following the inlet from the main harbour of Kyrakavia.
    This is it, Cloot said, landing in a tree on the fringe of the town.
    Are you tired?
    The bird answered too fast. Not overly. Then, more abruptly. What do you propose?
    Tor paused. He had been thinking hard during the flight on just this subject: what to do once they reached Caradoon? He still had no definite plan but could sense Cloot’s impatience.
    What about these stracca houses you mentioned?
    There would be several.
    How could we find them?
    Oh, I could just circle about aimlessly and see if we can spot one. Or we could fly down and ask someone. A magnificent peregrine falcon who also talks should not be a novelty here.
    All right, all right. Let me think, Tor said, recognising that Cloot was tired and falling into one of his sarcastic moods. Perhaps he was hungry again, he thought unkindly.
    Well, I’ll just sit here, Tor, whilst you think. Take your time. It’s your dying body.
    Tor ignored him and they fell silent. He sensed Cloot’s anxiety and knew better than to think the falcon was worried about himself. Cloot had never really liked this idea and now that he realised Tor had no genuine plan in mind he probably liked it even less. Tor suddenly felt stupid for getting them both into this dangerous situation. How foolish to think they could just turn up at a town and find the