Rivek finds Vika as a fledgling and nurses him back to health after his mother dies out of negligence. Slowly, his magic flows into the bird, and Vika becomes an emotional, intellectual extension of himself - a very sarcastic, brutally honest extension. They are tied together spiritually, and each one reflects the other. So, if either were to die, the other would as well. Part of their shared bond comes from the fact that they are both abandoned children.
Rivek undid the tethers on the falcon’s legs and extended his arm. The bird hopped on indignantly on his gloved hand.
You don’t need to use those awful things, you know. Or do you not trust me enough?
“I trust you. It’s other people I don’t trust. An un-tagged bird on palace grounds? You'd be re-claimed in minutes. And I assure you, whoever it is will not be nearly as nice. Or as good of an avian conversationalist."
I hate it when you’re right.
Vika extended his wings. With one modest push, he took to the air, searching for prey.
As Vika circled the warm air above, Rivek closed his eyes, listening for voices in the grass. Since he had been a child, he could see and hear the thoughts of birds. Most of the time, they thought about food. Though Rivek had to admit that he was no different.
The sparrows hidden by the foliage were quite content focused on finding seeds.
You’re supposed to be helping me chase them out.
“Ah, but I have higher expectations of you. You’re not a bird of average intelligence, you know. It wouldn’t be fair for them.”
Vika let out a screeching cry. All the small birds looked up, searching for the predator above them.
"You’re wrong,” Rivek said to them. “There’s no big, scary, hawk up there," he laughed. He watched the thoughts in the sparrow's minds change, from images deadly shadows back to images of their next meal. Once again, busy with food, they stayed buried in the grasses.
I know what you’re doing. You’re making this far harder than it needs to be.
Rivek shrugged, fully aware the bird could see him below with his impeccable eyesight. “You’re getting fat.”
If I’m getting fat, then you are, too. You know that’s how it works.
“You cut me to the bone, sir,” Rivek mocked. He looked towards the field for the sparrows. Still there. Still eating. “Well,” he said. “Perhaps I am wrong. Perhaps there’s a big, black shadow looming over you all. Better run while you can.”
The grass rustled, followed by a flurry of feathers as the sparrows took to the air.
Don’t think I’m going to actually thank you.
Vika tucked in his wing and dove, a spectacular display of speed. There was no way the sparrow could have escaped in time. He pegged it on the wing, sending it spinning and broken from the force of gravity. He landed on top of it in the dirt and crushed its neck. Rivek beckoned with his covered hand, and Vika picked up the kill. He landed on the outstretched glove with his prize and immediately began eating. Rivek reached over to take a piece.
Hands off. You didn’t do anything.
“You might be right about that one. Might be.” Rivek shrugged and took a wing anyway, spitting the cleaned bones onto the ground. Blood still on his lips, he kissed the bird on his head and let him finish his meal. Vika ruffled his feathers, beating the man off with his wings.
You know what it’s like, to only be able to talk to you? Exceptionally boring.
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