Birdie

I watch him for a moment, body hidden from view by the work shop door. My Uncle's hands are stable as he works, a peculiar sight to me. He fits small little gears into some sort of metal craddle that's on its side. I strain my eyes to find the shape of the metal is in that of a small fawn. He continues to place gears and valves within the half-creature and uses a screwdriver to keep them in place from time to time.

His eyes, usually frantic, are trained on his work and there's a light in them that tells me that he's happy right now. But his happiness is not what stops me from entering his workshop. It is his whistling. The tune is high pitched and filled with slurs and lots of triplets. It is elegant and beautiful, but I cannot help but feel as if the tune is familiar to me. Is it? I rack my brain and disect the music. It's obviously meant for a piano, that much I know for sure. Then, it hits me. I have heard this song before, but in my dream. Uncle Edwin and the girl, Elena, were playing it.

I gasp. My small noise disrupts the serenity of the entire room. My Uncle stops dead in his tracks, dropping a small circular gear onto the table. His hand trembles a bit before his eyes flicker over to where I'm standing. "Skye," he smiles sadly, "I did not see you there."

"I was just watching you work," I say. He blinks slowly.

"Well, you're welcome to view the product closer if you wish," he chuckles and beckons me toward the table. The inside of the mechimal is filled with gears and valves, just as I had seen him put them there. But something strikes it to me as odd, but not in a bad way. You can see how well these have been placed and fastened into their individual spots. With care, dedication, and love. "A fawn," he smiles.

"Are you done making birds?" I ask, thinking of the one up in my room. I had held it close to my chest for a few hours the other night, let it fly out of the window for a bit as well. I am beginning to grow very attached to the creature.

"Heaven's no. But, I have decided to start creating life on a larger scale. The birds were easy, tiny and confines. These animals are much large, have more movements and functions. I have to think bigger," Edwin explains, gesturing toward his invention. I nod, and step closer.

"It looks marvelous."

"Now I'm sure you didn't come here to hear me prattle on about my work. What's on your mind, sweetie?" His hand reaches out and touches mine. His skin is rough but warm on mine and I can feel a fatherly aura around him, consuming me. It is a warm feeling and it pains me slightly. For a moment, I feel as if my own father is in the room.

"I, uh, wanted to ask you about having a guest over for dinner tomorrow evening."

"Oh?"

"Yes. Pierre and I befriended a Warlock today and we offered him dinner for tomorrow evening. I was wondering if that would be all right with you, we wouldn't make a habit of it, I promise-"

"Calm down, child," Edwin laughs, green eyes sparkling. His eyes are so similar to my mothers that it makes me feel weak. He ha sthe features of my mother and the feelings of my father. He's the best of them, in one person. "Company is always welcome here. I will notify the kitchen staff to prepare more food."

My grin stretches so wide and I am sure he sees my eyes light up. "Thank you, Uncle!"

He smiles and nods toward the door. "I'll see you at dinner," his voice is soft and fatherly. I blush and make my way toward the workshop door. My steps are light and bouncy, happiness flodding through me. My hand is on the door when my Uncle calls out to me, "Skye, wait."

"Yes, Uncle?" I reply, turning my head. His eyes are narrowed, eyebrows knitted together.

"Why did you gasp?"

I swallow and breathe out. I could lie, tell him it was any number of things that could have caused the sound, but I decide that it is best not to lie to him. "The song you were whistling, I thought that I'd heard it before."

He nods and turns his body to his work, not looking at me. His voice, however, is directed toward me. "Some people believe ghosts haunt them, other's say that they are haunted by thoughts or dreams or memories. But for me, it is a familiar melody that can haunt a man for the remainder of his life."

And with that, my Uncle is lost to the world again, claimed by the inner workings of his mind. I leave without a single word left to say.



After dinner I retire to my bedroom, worn out from the days events. I say goodnight to everyone and head up the stairs. I ignore that feeling that draws me to the second floor and go straight up to my room. I immeadiately lay down on my bed, not yet changing into a night-gown. I mean to get up and prepare myself for bed, but sleep finds me quickly.

The city of Everstile races out before me in my dream. I'm sitting on a horse, though just like before, no one can see either me or the horse. I grab onto its reins and sit helpless as it races along side another horse. The rider is a familiar face- Uncle Edwin.

His eyes are narrowed on something in front of him, his body leans forward as if he can speed himself up that way. His lips have formed a thin, yet determined line and his jaw is set and hard. His beautiful green eyes are focused, much more so than I had ever seen them, on something ahead of us.

I shift my eyes to where his rest and find myself puzzled. A large gray carriage drawn by two black horses make its way through the streets, civilians leaping out of the way or just watching the desperate scene. My Uncle's horse bounds after them, mine keeping time with his. The carriage turns down street after street, alley after alley, in hopes of ditching the poor desperate inventor but there's no such luck. He follows the vehicle with a fiery passion that lights his eyes.

Eventually, the carriage flies down an old bridge and onto a dirt path, one that leaves Everstile. Uncle Edwin sppeds up, keeping himself just a short distance behind them. Suddenly, with a lagre cry from both my Uncle and myself, a large bolt of energy -what I can only assume is magic- crashs infront of my Uncle's steed. The horse rears itself up on its back legs, kicking hard with its front ones. My uncle should have been bucked off the horse, but instead he takes advantage of situation and leaps off its back and onto the dirt path. I pull my horse to a stop, jump off, and chase after him.

Uncle Edwin's legs move fast and his feet hit hard against the dirt, but its no use. The carriage has gained great speed and has soared off into the distance. But Uncle does not stop. He keeps running after them until his foot catches a dip in the road and he falls forward. I gasp and run to him. Whatever determination that held him together is lost now. Tears spill down his cheeks and his sobs are loud and sorrowful. He grabs at the road, taking fistfuls of dirt in his hands and throwing them as far as he can without getting up.

"They can't take her from me!" He cries, throwing another handful of soil. "They can't take you from me, Elena! They can't!"

I am not even aware I had been screaming until Pierre is shaking me awake. His skin is cold against mine, as faery skin is like ice. But it is a feeling that I take comfort in. My eyes are open wide, trying to make sense of the world in the dark. Without a single word, he craddles me in his arms, sits back against my pillow and pulls me closer to his chest. His slender fingers run through my dark hair.

"Pierre?" I ask hastily, gasping for air. The dream hadn't even been all that terrifying but the sorrow and fear I felt for my Uncle had been brought from my slumber and into the waking world. My heart is beating fast and I can tell that the faery boy holding me can hear it. They have better hearing than humans, but not by too much. Slowly, he places a cold hand against my chest.

"You were screaming. Nearly woke the entire manor." I can his soft smile in the dim light.

"I know, I know," I admitt shly. I sigh and press my head closer to his body. Oh, if my mother could see me now, she'd skin me alive. A boy in my bed is bad enough, let alone it being a boy holding me in the middle of the night. And I'm sure it would hurt her even more to know that it is a faery. "What time is it?"

"Late enough for the stars to be shining as bright as they are," he says, his fingers now weaving through my hair. I wonder how I look to him in the pale light. Does the moon make my near-black hair glisten? Do my pale blue eyes shine like two evening stars? I bite my lip, trying to push away those thoughts. The last thing I need is to fall for this boy. I couldn't care less what he thinks of me, I think but I know it is a lie. "Did you have a bad dream?"

I nod. "It is better, now that you're here." The words come out queitly but Pierre flinches as if I had shouted them at him. Then he relaxes and smiles more.

"Then I shall let you sleep longer," he says and goes to leave. Faeries are quick but I manage to grab ahold of his wrist before he even gets up. I've fallen away rom his arms and my hair's in my eyes. I'm on my knees, holding to him, clinging on to him. I must look a sight, mangled and impetuous.

"Do not go, please," I say through a shaky whisper. "I know it is improper, but I'd feel much better if you did not leave my bed until you're sure I am sleeping. Stay with me, just until I fall asleep. Please?"

He stares at me, his eyes running all along my body. I wonder again how he sees me- a beautiful human girl asking him to her bed for the night or just a needy human needing his protection. His lavender eyes shimmer as he shifts, the moon from the window hitting him just right and illuminating his entire being. His ash colored hair looks more silver, his pale skin shining like the armor of a white knight. His tall, slender figure silhouetted by the beautiful moonlight. He's a magnificant, kind creature.

"I will stay," he says and crawls into my bed. I adjust myself under the covers and he rests on top of them. I pull myself to him and to both our surprise, I wrap my arms around him and put my head as high as I can on his chest and still have him be comfortable. In a matter of moments, I feel his arms surround me and his breathing slows slightly.

We rest that way for quite some time, neither of us quite sure how long. I know I should worry about a great number of things. I should worry about him sleeping through the night and being discovered in my bed, or even about the signifigance of the dream-child, Elena, or even about what tomorrow will bring for me. I could be worrying about any number of things in this entire Kingdom, on this entire planet, but I don't. No worry reaches my being as long as Pierre is with me.

Somewhere in the night, my breathing slows into a heavy, steady sound that indicates sleep and Pierre must have assumed that I've resumed my slumber. However, I haven't quite slipped away from conciousness yet when I feel a pair of ice cold lips on my cheek and the pressure of a beautiful body as he pulls me closer yet again.

After that, sleep finally comes to claim me.