snail mail.
The two birds had been flying for over a week together. Frank had kept to himself, rarely talking about anything except to point out the next place to stop and rest for the night. This suited Belle just fine, as her previous flying partner had talked enough for an entire lifetime. She still took great interest in the osprey, having never really interacted with other birds that weren’t of her own kind. One of the things that never ceased to surprise her was his rather high-pitched whistles compared to his intimidating size. Half of his wingspan was larger than she was and she often flew just above him, hoping that his wings would block her from the sight of any onlookers from the ground.
“Let’s stop,” Frank chirped, he gestured his hawked beak to a small lake on the side. Belle breathed a sigh of relief. Her wings were starting to feel heavy and a break was welcomed. It took a lot of energy to keep up with Frank’s pace, even considering the fact that she knew he deliberately flew slower in order not to exhaust her.
As they glided towards the earth just above the canopy of trees, Belle heard voices. Frank must have heard as well as both birds swivelled their heads towards the direction of the sound. They saw a small troop of blue scarfed men, carrying backpacks and rifles and approaching the lake. They talked amongst themselves but were too far away for either of them to pick out any words. Belle instantly tensed up. She had never seen The Blue Men before and had taken great lengths to plan her journeys as to never cross paths with them.
“Stay close,” Frank muttered, keeping his voice low. “The moment they see that you’re a pigeon…”
Belle shuddered. Frank didn’t need to finish the sentence. She lowered herself closer to Frank, hoping more than ever that his giant wings would hide her.
They soared over the treetops, circling the lake. She saw Frank trying to discern a good spot to stop. He had not anticipated seeing any men in the area. He suspected The Blue Men had travelled from the north east, a path that not many carrier pigeons crossed. There was nothing to see and no one left in the Yukon and thus, no business there.
Frank decided to land a little farther away from the lake, favouring a small stream that sprouted from the great body of water that was in the opposite of the direction that they men were heading. They were making their descent when one of the men looked up.
“What’s that on that hawk’s wing?” he yelled, pointing up to the pair. Belle gulped, trying to fly as close to Frank as birdly possible without crashing into him.
The other men stopped and squinted. “What’s it matter?” another man shook his head.
“It’s moving?” the first man asked in disbelief, shielding his eyes with one hand. He pulled out a pair of binoculars and tried to zoom into the birds. “Is that a carrier?”
“A message from the south?” one man asked, scrambling to ready his rifle. “Shit, they know we’re in the Territories.”
“It’s a hawk,” the doubtful man said. He ripped the binoculars from the man’s hands and peered into it himself. “Well kick me in the balls. That hawk is with a pigeon.”
At the sound of the word pigeon, the men bristled. They lamented over the fact none of them carried shotguns but rifles would have to do. They changed made a U-turn for the birds, guns in hand.
“Shit,” Frank grumbled, echoing the human word.
Belle’s mind started swirling. She wasn’t sure what to do. How do birds evade getting intercepted?
“Hold on,” Frank said. Belle panicked. Hold on? What did that mean? “Hurry!” Frank barked. Belle moved away from his wing and planted her feet into Frank’s back, gripping firmly. If that hurt him, he didn’t show any sign of it. He then angled downwards and hurtled towards the ground. Belle could only hear the wind rushing in her ears and the flapping of feathers. As soon as they entered the trees, Frank pulled up and started to move swiftly throughout the branches. Belle had to dodge leaves and bark, at times barely missing. She did not have the reflexes for this. Instead she just ducked her head and tried to flatten herself as much as possible.
If the men were running towards them, Belle did not know. She was concentrating more on not falling off or getting knocked off.
Suddenly, little explosions went off, the sound reverberating through the trees. Were they shooting at them? How? The shots seemed to be getting closer. Frank continued to weave between the trees, his pace quickening. Suddenly, the trees cleared out and the birds found themselves gliding over the clear lake.
“Shit, shit, shit.” Belle wasn’t sure if that was her thoughts or if it was Frank speaking out loud.
The sounds of the forest were gone and the air was still for just a second. Bullets whizzed past them, the whistling made the feathers on Belle’s neck stand up.
“Can you swim?” Frank yelled.
“What?!” Belle asked, panicked. She knew that Frank couldn’t swim, let alone herself. “You’re crazy!”
Ignoring her, Frank let out a warbled cry before heading straight towards the lake. Belle braced herself, taking a big gulp of air before they hit the water. The lake was cold and Belle instantly felt like she lost control of her limbs, weightless. Frank’s angle of attack and momentum kept them close towards the surface but she felt them inevitably start to sink.
Belle tried to blink away tears. To end it like this. At least she was saved the dignity of not being intercepted by The Blue Men. She froze. The letter. Her satchel was still tightly bound across her body, it’s contents soaked by now. She apologized to Marisol, hoping it could reach her, somehow.
Suddenly, she felt little nips on her back. She looked up but couldn’t see anything but the muddled blue sky. Something wrapped around her neck and pulled her out of the water. Once out, Belle started coughing, gasping, trying to taste the air. She strained to see who or what had saved her. It was a brown pelican holding Belle in it’s pouched bill. It tried to talk before realizing that it’s mouth was full.
“Frank!” Belle managed to gasp, eyes looking around desperately, unable to move her head.
A few moments passed before something started to emerge from the water. Several other pelicans were pushing Frank up from underneath him. Some others swam over speedily to aid in helping Frank up.
“He’s a bit heavy for his size,” one the of the birds warbled. Belle blinked at the sound. Frank’s cry earlier sounded similar to that. Could it be that he was calling them?
“Can’t say I can carry him for much longer,” another responded. “Let’s get ‘em to shore, pronto.”
Belle watched the birds struggle from her awkward angle as they all headed towards land. Her neck started to hurt but she concentrated on holding her body so that she didn’t put too much strain on it.
Once the birds waded onto land, the bird holding her placed her gently onto the ground. Belle lay there on the stony shore, staring up at the clear blue sky.
“Frank?” Belle coughed out his name. Her whole body felt weighed down and she could barely turn her head. She shivered, the feeling of the cold stones doing her no favours.
“Look at ‘em. They’re gonna freeze to death.”
“Wait, Frank’s bleeding out. Someone fetch Anna, now!”
Those were the last words that reached Belle’s ears before she passed out from the cold.