It was close enough for Kestrel to see everything in perfect detail. Its wings jerked as though the creature only had nominal control over them. Its head, hands, and feet were bald, and it had three rows of teeth on the top and bottom of its jaws, sharp as bits of broken bottle.
Kestrel peered at the trees around the clearing. She remembered the Briny Witch’s warning, and shuddered. Bonebirds.
Every branch had at least one of the foul creatures crouched on it, their toes hooked over the edge, arms tucked under their twitching wings. They had been asleep, but some were opening their eyes and clicking their jaws, and when they saw the bonebird that was strutting near Kestrel’s hiding place they started to shuffle and chitter. Within minutes they were all in a state of high anxiety. They launched themselves from the trees and landed heavily, pushing and shoving one another out of the way as they scrambled to reach the bones on the ground.
Kestrel cursed under her breath. She’d almost run straight into the Marrow Orchard, right under the noses of the bonebirds. She hadn’t even bothered to look up at the trees before doing it. She was losing her hunting instincts.
There was only one gap in the thorns through which she could reach the Marrow Orchard and some of the bonebirds were already in front of it, shuffling their wings and agitatedly biting the air. Even if she were invisible they would feel her shoving past, and she had no doubt that their teeth could cut through to the bone. The thought of getting in the way of one of the bonebird’s mouths made her shudder.
The last bonebird, a thin one with particularly long teeth, landed in front of Kestrel’s hiding place. It looked around, then stuffed apple after apple in its mouth, chewing noisily and spraying bits of old fruit everywhere while the others pecked at the bones.
Some of the rotten apples had rolled toward Kestrel. The bonebird hadn’t noticed them, but they were still just out of her reach.
Kestrel knew that she needed those apples. If Pippit was here he’d run out and grab them, or distract the bonebirds for her. She instinctively touched the side of her face, where he pressed his nose when he was trying to tell her something, and swallowed a lump.
It was her own fault he’d gone. But it was no good thinking about it now. She shook his weasel-y face from her head and waited for her chance, but the bonebird with the apples refused to turn around again. The minutes felt infinite, and with every second that passed Kestrel was itching to leap up and wriggle her cramped toes and wave her arms.
Two bonebirds were fighting on the other side of the clearing. There was a horrible screeching sound as they tried to knock each other to the ground with their wings. The bonebird in front of Kestrel craned its neck to watch, clicking its teeth together excitedly. Just as one of the fighters let out a screech of pain, Kestrel reached out and grabbed the three apples closest to her, withdrawing just as the bonebird turned back to eat. She froze, praying that it hadn’t seen her. The bonebird gazed into the tree roots, but after a few seconds it licked its lips and turned back to its feast.
Very slowly, keeping her eyes fixed on the creature in front of her, Kestrel unrolled the wolf-skin cloak. It was still damp from the Salt Bog, and it smelled like sour cheese. She felt a prick of doubt. It didn’t look special at all.
She weighed one of the apples in her hand, then wriggled into a position where she could draw her arm back, feeling like she was about to do something very foolish.
She wished that Finn was here to count her down. She wished that Pippit was by her side, ready to attack. She wished more than anything that her dad hadn’t sent her here, and that she’d been able to save him in time.
But wishes wouldn’t keep you alive in the forest.
Kestrel threw the apple as hard as she could.
It sailed into the clearing, high above the bonebird’s head. The bonebird leaped to its feet and pelted after it without thinking, colliding head-on with three other bonebirds that had the exact same idea. One of them opened its mouth wide, unhinging its jaw for maximum effect, and jumped into the path of the apple. The fruit sailed right down its throat. It swallowed with a horrible, greedy gulping sound.
The other bonebirds in the clearing were taking an interest as well. As their heads turned, trying to work out where the apple had come from, Kestrel drew her arm back and flung the second.
It went farther this time and three more of the bonebirds hurtled toward it. They threw themselves after the fruit, squawking, snapping their teeth at the apple until it was little more than a heap of mush on the ground.
They fell back and looked toward Kestrel. They knew the apples were coming from somewhere. Kestrel felt a bead of sweat roll down her nose.
One of them started to trot toward her, its head tilted to one side. It was joined by another, and another, all three pretending not to notice one another.
She clenched her teeth.
This time she waited until they were close, then she flung the apple as hard as she could. They took off after it, screeching along with the rest of the pack, leaving a clear path to the orchard. Without a second thought Kestrel flung the cloak on and tore herself from the roots of the tree.
She ran into the clearing, hurtling toward the gap in the thorns, the cloak flapping behind her. She was faster than a greased fox. She was as speedy as a centipede diving into the floorboards, escaping the blows of a heavy book. She was going to make it! She . . .
Oh.
The bonebirds had already decimated the apple.
Now they were looking right at her.
They crowded around her in a ring, cutting her off and snapping their teeth. Kestrel’s heart was hammering so hard she thought it would fail. The Briny Witch had lied to her. She wasn’t invisible at all.
She tried to shuffle away from the bonebirds, but one of them snapped its teeth at her, and she tripped over a bone.
She landed on her chin, bit her tongue, and cried out in a mixture of pain and surprise.
Kestrel prodded her front tooth with her tongue. It was as sharp as a saw.
The bonebird in front of her wrinkled its nose in disgust and wandered off, its legs jerking like a puppet’s. One by one the others did the same, hooting and preening.
Kestrel slowly climbed to her feet and looked behind her. Heavy gray wings cast shadows over the ground.
“The forest have mercy on me,” she whispered. She was a bonebird, complete with wings and teeth. Her wolf-skin cloak was gone, and instead there were feathers stuck to her body, close as a second skin and as itchy as a rash. One of the bonebirds turned back to look at her.
“Hoot,” Kestrel said quickly.
It gave her a foul look and moved on.
Kestrel stood there, paralyzed by indecision. She looked at the shadow of her wings again. They fluttered nervously.
She took a cautious step forward and tried walking jerkily, even twitching her head as she made her way toward the orchard. After a minute she felt like she was getting better at it.
“Coo,” she said as the ring of stones loomed up in front of her. She glanced around, but none of the bonebirds were taking much notice of her now. She flapped her arms experimentally. They didn’t feel so bad. In fact, none of this was terrible at all.
Maybe, if she was honest, she was even enjoying herself a bit.
If Finn could see me now he’d be so jealous. . . .
She grew cold at the memory of him twitching on the floor.
“Coo,” she said again, trying to forget the image.
Her nerves almost got the better of her as she passed through the gap in the stones. She had to breathe in to avoid being caught by the vicious thorns that weaved between them. Inside the black tangle of spikes there were mice and squirrels and foxes, and some bigger things, too: a treecreeper, a wolf. They hung there sadly like abandoned toys.