He kissed my hair—my beautiful, long hair. A low growl built in his throat. “You won’t have to. I’m ending it. I’m going to save you. It will all be over soon.”

The dream unwound from my thoughts as a tap against glass roused me.

The vacant despair inside me throbbed, but sleep had patched me together infinitesimally—letting me hold on just a little longer. Jethro’s dream embrace stitched the vanishing pieces together just enough that I didn’t burst into tears.

Whatever the Hawks did to me, no matter what affliction I suffered, no matter how desolate my mind became, I still existed—still survived.

I’m not done until I’m dead. And even then, I’m immortal.

Remember that and be strong.

The rapping came again, guiding my eyes to the dark window.

The heavy emerald drapes puddled velvet from ceiling to floor. They blocked the night sky and any hint of the mysterious noise.

Tap. Tap-tap.

Could a tree have fallen? Could Flaw be throwing stones at my window to get my attention?

Curiosity overrode my stiffness, forcing me from the warmth of slumber. Shuffling from the covers, the room swirled with vertigo. The imbalance was worse because I’d given in. I couldn’t fight it anymore. I let the black wave take me, gripping the mattress until it faded. The cut on my chest burned as I breathed hard and slow.

The tapping came faster, louder.

Climbing unsteadily to my feet, I padded across the room and wrenched the curtains aside.

My eyes dropped to the sill, searching for answers.

I tripped backward.

What—

Something feathered and flighty hopped away, only to soar back and tap against the glass. I’d expected to see a wayward branch or even some flotsam that’d lodged against the frame.

I hadn’t expected this.

Had some messenger from God come to slap me for being so lost? Was it some mystery of Mother Nature saying she believed in me?

I’m not alone…

My heart swelled as lost hope unfurled.

The people I lived with might not care about me…but others did. I couldn’t stop fighting because I was loved. Out there, somewhere, I was loved by people who mattered.

My heart twisted as I bent closer to inspect.

The bird of prey rapped its beak on the window, hopping on the sill outside. Its beady black eyes tore through me, as if in one glance it knew what I’d dealt with and how close I was to the end.

You understand me, little bird. Are you my saviour?

Backing away from the window, I balled my hands.

You don’t need a saviour…if you only believed in yourself again...

So what, your hair is gone? So what, your brother is gone? So what, Jethro is gone?

You’re not gone.

So fight!

The bird charged the pane, rapping its beak with fury.

I froze.

Winter ice had chased away autumn far too fast. The spidery lace of frost decorated corners of the glass. The radiating cold cut through my cotton nightgown like knives.

Poor thing.

I hated to think of the poor creature in the cold. No animal should be without shelter.

I moved forward and opened the wrought iron catch. Cracking the window open, the bird immediately hopped inside.

No fear. No hesitation.

Where the hell had this bird come from?

I froze as the raptor spread its wings, ran across the interior window, and hopped onto my hand.

“Ah!” I snatched my hand back. Its talons were sharp and its beak deadly. I’d had enough pain at the hands of human hawks to let a feathered one hurt me, too.

The bird puffed out its chest. Its beak glinted wickedly while it cocked its head and stared at me with intelligent eyes.

It saw right through me.

It saw how broken I was. How tired. How desolate.

It made me drown in guilt for being so feeble.

Unwanted tears crept into my eyes.

“I don’t have anything for you. I doubt cereal will impress a carnivore like you.”

The bird chirped.

The noise whipped through the room, sending my eyes darting to the door. I didn’t want to give any reason for Daniel to visit me. He’d done enough. He’d done too much.

Backing away, I shooed it. “Go on…get out of here.”

Instead of flying away, it hopped closer, once again targeting my hand.

“No, wait—”

It didn’t listen. With a single flap, it hopped off the sill and landed on the back of my knuckles. Its wings soared open for balance, its talons digging into my flesh for purchase.

My bicep clenched beneath its weight and I steeled myself against its uninvited presence. Its scaly legs shuffled, doing its best to remain in one place. Taking pity on it, I curled my fingers, creating a rudimentary perch. It chirped, wrapping its sharp talons around my skin. Its weight was surprisingly heavy, its plumage dense with feathers of coppers and brass. “Hi.”

It tilted its head sideways, chirping again.

A draft whistled through the gap in the open window. I moved to close it, but the bird nipped at my knuckle.

“Ouch.” I went to shake him off, but my eyes fell on its leg.

The hawk or kestrel flapped its wings, dispelling a rogue feather to flutter to the carpet. It somehow knew I’d seen its message.

My heart stopped beating as I looked through the window, squinting into the darkness. Who’d sent it? Were they still out there?

No shadows moved outside; no hint of midnight visitors.

“Who sent you?” I murmured as I glanced at the white parchment wrapped around its leg. Reaching for the red bow, I tugged it loose.