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“Not just an owl,” she whispered, turning damp eyes up to his. “My white owl. The one who brought you to me. Trenton … he’s hurt.”
“Be careful.” Trenton stayed her with his hand. “Owls are wild, Ariana. He’ll claw you mercilessly if you try to touch him.”
“He can’t hurt me … he’s unconscious. Please, we’ve got to help him.”
Cautiously, Trenton squatted beside her, looking from the unmoving creature to the solid barn wall beside him. “Apparently your owl flew directly into the barn … hard enough to knock him senseless.”
Ariana nodded vigorously. “He probably wanted to perch inside the barn and struck the window trying to enter. Owls see glass as open space and often hurt themselves because of it.”
“Well, I’d be surprised if he didn’t have quite a concussion. However, he is breathing, and damned lucky about where he fell. The grasses here are very thick and, judging from the natural angle of his wings, I would suspect that nothing is broken.”
“We have to take care of him, Trenton. I’ll never ask another thing of you … but please help me save him.”
Wordlessly, Trenton gathered the injured bird, then rose and moved toward the barn entrance. “We’d better hurry … before he awakens and scratches my eyes out.”
“Thank you,” Ariana said simply, rising to follow.
While Trenton held the owl, Ariana hurried inside and located a small crate. “Put him in the far corner of the barn, where it’s warm,” she instructed, carrying the makeshift cage with her. She waited while Trenton placed the owl on the ground, then lowered the crate over his inert form. “Now he’ll be confined until he’s strong enough to fly.”
“I’m impressed,” Trenton acknowledged. “Though I don’t know why I should be. You’ve obviously cared for sick birds before.”
“Yes … but this one’s special.” She knelt beside the crate. “He’s free to soar the skies … yet he finds me whenever I need him: my own precious symbol of hope. He’s like you, Trenton: offering so much, yet always searching, uncertain where he really belongs, seeking to find out.” Her gaze softened as she stared at the owl. “My extraordinary wanderer … my Odysseus.” She sighed. “Perhaps we’re all really alike in the end: All of us wanderers, all of us searching, venturing into the world in the hopes of discovering our true purpose.”
“So profound. And still you doubt your value, misty angel.” Trenton leaned over, gathering her silken masses of auburn hair and pressing his lips to her nape. “I fear that your vision is far worse than that of your beloved Odysseus. He is blind only to glass. You, on the other hand, are blind to your own worth.” Gently, Trenton drew her to her feet, silencing whatever she was about to say by laying a finger across her lips. “Your patient needs his sleep. As do you, if you want to be strong enough to properly nurse him back to health. Let’s go to bed.”
Ariana glanced over her shoulder, chewing her lip hesitantly. “I don’t want to leave him. What if he awakens? He’ll be frightened.” She turned back to Trenton. “You go to bed. I’ll join you later.”
Trenton didn’t answer. Soberly, he regarded his wife, then silently left the barn.
Feeling the evening chill set in, Ariana curled up beside the crate, wrapping her arms about herself for warmth. She wondered if she’d angered her husband by refusing to accompany him. If so, she couldn’t blame him. After all, such devotion to an owl probably struck him as bizarre.
The barn door creaked, and a moment later Trenton sank down beside her, wrapping a blanket around them both. “Now at least we won’t catch pneumonia,” he muttered.
Ariana looked up, surprise, then gratitude, and finally tenderness registering on her face. “No,” she whispered. “We won’t.”
The tawny eyes opened, blinked dazedly, slid shut, then opened again. Slowly, the owl lifted his head, peering unsteadily through the slats of the crate, meeting the sensitive scrutiny of his rescuer.
“Don’t be frightened, Odysseus,” Ariana soothed, her heart aching at the disorientation clouding his magnificent topaz stare. “You’re all right now. No one is going to hurt you.”
In response, Odysseus’s head drooped back into the hay, and his eyes closed.
“Trenton …” Instinctively, Ariana gripped her husband’s arm beneath the blanket.
“He’s only sleeping, misty angel.” Trenton was as awake as she. “Listlessness and confusion are perfectly normal following a concussion.”
“What can we do for him?”
“For now, nothing. He did awaken, and that’s a good sign. He’ll probably sleep a great deal over the next few days. We’re keeping him warm and confined. Now we’ll have to be patient.”
“He must get well,” she breathed, half to herself, thinking of all the times Odysseus had appeared when she’d needed him most, praying she could remedy his suffering in return.
“He will.” Trenton framed her anxious face between his palms. “I give you my word.”
“How can you be so certain?”
Trenton brushed her cold lips with his thumb. “Because faith as unwavering as yours has the power to heal far more than a mere concussion.”
Ariana’s tightly drawn
