Rosemary glanced at the dozens of birds around her.“I’ve gotten them up past their bedtime.I’d better let them go.”The scrub jays fluttered away.The last to go was the one from her hat, and then the two of them were left alone in the clearing.“Now you know why I don’t need food or a kitchen,” Rosemary said.“I eat like a bird, literally.”
“You just transform to eat.”
“Yes, exactly.”
Corinthia nodded.Sure, why not?
“And don’t worry,” Rosemary added.“I have the lifespan of a human, not a bird.Or at least I’m pretty sure I do, considering how old I am now.”
Corinthia did not know it was possible to feel relief and disbelief at the same time, but the two feelings sat side by side like books on a shelf.“I’m glad to hear that,” she said.
“I used to stay in bird form most of the time, but the older I get, the more time I spend like this.”
Corinthia nodded some more.Nodding was easy to do.
“When I was a bird I would perch in the trees above the Pollinator Garden for storytime, and then I would become a human to sneak over to the free book cart.Then it was back to bird form to watch TV over back fences.”Rosemary smiled.“You don’t know how wonderful it is to finallytellsomeone!”
Corinthia smiled back.It was impossible not to, because Rosemary was kind and lovely and clever, and really, who cared if she thought she was a scrub jay?Thinking you’re a bird is a quirk, not a dealbreaker.
“You don’t think less of me, do you?”Rosemary asked.She cast a rueful look at her own sarong, and one elegant hand touched her hat self-consciously.“All my clothes are blue and gray, like my feathers.”
“They’re beautiful,” Corinthia said, with complete sincerity, though she was not sure whether she meant clothes or feathers or both.“But we could go shopping somewhere, if you wanted something different…”
“Oh, but I can’t!I have a very hard time leaving the Refuge.”
Stevie had once pointed out how the scrub jays never left the Refuge, and Corinthia had filed it away as an interesting bit of trivia about scrub jay behavior.Now that the woman standing in front of her had applied this bit of trivia to herself, it seemed much more pertinent.Was it a phobia?Or something wrapped up in the idea of believing she was a bird?Or was she truly a bird, with a bird’s instincts?“You really can’t leave?”Corinthia asked.“What happens if you try?”
“I can go a little way—to the library, or just outside the border of the Refuge, but after that it’s difficult.I feel all wrong and anxious.”
“Maybe if you practiced, it would become easier.”
“Do you think it would?”Rosemary said.“I would love to see more of the world.”
There were things Corinthia had to say, and to say them she needed to be closer to Rosemary.She closed the distance and met Rosemary’s gaze.“Listen,” Corinthia said, “I don’t care if you eat acorns in your spare time.It doesn’t bother me if you spend half your days in feathers.I want to understand what is happening to me in this forest.The things I can do; the thingsyoucan do.”
Corinthia went on.“You want to get better at leaving the forest.I want to get better at”—she made a wordless gesture forall of this.“We can help each other.It would be…” Corinthia paused, searching for sensible, rational, convincing words, the kind that would have convinced her if she were on the receiving end.“Mutually beneficial,” she concluded.
“Mutually beneficial,” Rosemary echoed, her eyes wide and solemn.
“It would require spending time together,” Corinthia added, gravely.
“Lots of time,” Rosemary agreed, equally serious.
“Extensive conversations, outings, that sort of thing.”
“Oh, yes.”
“Are you teasing me?”
“Definitely,” Rosemary said, her eyes sparkling.“In fact, we should start tonight.”
“Tonight?”
“Yes, tonight!Nowis always the best time!”
“Some of us,” Corinthia said, trying to be stern, “have to work in the morning.”
“Iknow,” Rosemary said, with great sincerity, as she drew Corinthia toward the green cottage.“You don’t have to stay up.You can just sleep over!”
