A Song in the Rain Read online

  A Song in the Rain

  Lydia Deyes

  Text copyright © 2019 by Lydia Deyes

  Cover artwork by Daniel Lieske

  Map designed by Brianna da Silva

  All rights reserved. Please be respectful and refrain from reproducing, storing, altering, or sharing this book through any physical or electronic medium without the permission of the author.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the authors’ imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. Yes, even the animals.

  ISBN: 978-1-7334776-0-4

  eBook edition

  September 2019

  www.LydiaDeyes.com

  Dedication

  My many thanks to the friends and family who read and commented on my manuscript throughout its stages of life: my local writers group, my beta readers, and the CritiqueCircle community. With your help, I finally have a book that I can be proud of.

  ◆◆◆

  Special thanks to Patrick, Andrea, Jim, and Dan. You guys have been my light in the darkness and without you, I wouldn’t have had the courage to keep fighting.

  The Prophecy

  Fledgling sparrow, eyes of gold,

  broken in a tempest night.

  Darkness, thick as smoke, behold,

  incites an everlasting blight.

  The only hope against the scourge

  must brave a battle more than might.

  But should a victor soon emerge,

  the hero shall restore the light.

  World Map

  Snake

  I

  I was pulled out of darkness, as slowly as a leaf falling from a tree. At first I felt nothing, remembered nothing. Sensation began at the tips of my wings, tingling with warmth beneath the feathers. I tried to take a deep breath but was consumed by coughing. I tasted bitter, oaken smoke. My nostrils flared at the biting odor. Trying to open my eyes was a battle. When the lids finally cracked, they stung with heat and soot.

  Where am I?

  By swinging my head from left to right, I distinguished a bright, round spot in my bleary surroundings.

  An exit.

  As I started for it, a searing pain shot through my shoulder and my head began to throb. I stumbled, ending with my feet in the air. It took a few tries for me to right myself, half-crawling towards the light. I emerged, perched on the outer bark of a tree hollow.

  The ground below me spun through a sheen of smoke, yet I could taste the fresh air. The base of my tail feathers burned from the heat, and I had no choice. I launched myself from the tree, spreading my right wing, trying to bear the burden of my left. I tumbled less than gracefully through the air. A patch of moss caught me, belly-first. Breathless, I forced myself up and kept pushing myself forward, hopping as fast as I could. I needed to get far away from the burning tree. How long did I have before it spread?

  Oof!

  I turned my head away from the tree to look at whatever I’d just bumped into. A gray squirrel glanced down at me with wide eyes, then returned her gaze to the tree. Her eyes reflected the flames, and her tail twitched nervously. I stood up and winced at the pain in my shoulder and head. I peered around her and saw more woodland creatures, mostly squirrels, all staring at the same thing. It looked like I was the only song sparrow here. All the animals formed a big circle around the edge of the clearing, at the center of which was the tree. Smoke was billowing from its trunk and spreading upwards into the air. Flames licked the grass at its roots, but they never caught.

  That can’t be normal, I thought. Why isn’t it spreading?

  The rest of the animals looked just as confused as I was. I scanned the crowd for anyone I knew, but all the faces belonged to strangers. The squirrel beside me shook her head and muttered something, but I heard no sound. I blinked. Now that I was free from the fire, I noticed the wood wasn’t crackling. A limb hung at an angle, then ripped from the trunk and collapsed to the earth. The ground shuddered from the impact, but I heard nothing.

  Turning to the squirrel beside me, I tugged on her fur with my beak. “Excuse me, Miss, but do you…” I stopped, breathing in sharply. I couldn’t hear my own voice.

  She looked at me, twitching her ears, and responded. Shaking my head, I forced myself to speak again. “I’m scared,” I managed, trembling. “I can’t hear anything, and I don’t know where I am.”

  The squirrel put a reassuring paw on my back. Together with the rest of the forest animals, we watched the mysterious fire consume the tree, leaving nothing but a charred pile of sticks surrounded by an untouched field of green.

  ◆◆◆

  All of us continued in a daze, standing on the edge of the clearing until the last ember fizzled out. This just didn’t happen. I wondered how I knew about the normal nature of forest fires, even though I couldn’t remember a thing from before waking up in the flames. I couldn’t even remember my own name. Reaching back in my mind yielded nothing but empty darkness. I turned my attention instead to the tree — or what had once been a tree, anyway. From the smell of burnt herbs, and because I was lying there when I woke, I guessed this had been some sort of medical center. Someone had probably come across me unconscious and put me there to recuperate.

  But why did it catch fire, and why was the fire localized to this one tree?

  I wondered how many resources they’d gathered over time, all to be lost in a single moment.

  Finally, after what seemed like eons of stillness, the forest came back to life. One by one, the squirrels began to scavenge in the wreckage, looking for anything worth salvaging. Rabbits and voles scattered through the brush, bringing back mouthfuls of leaves and roots. Woodpeckers and robins flew back and forth from the forest to the charred remains in the center of the clearing, carrying small twigs, leaves, and patches of moss. The squirrel beside me got up to join the others.

  “Excuse me, Miss…” I cleared my throat, feeling as though it would somehow restore my hearing. “I want to help.”

  The gray squirrel stopped and turned back towards me. She stood on her hind legs, scratching her belly while she scanned the forest behind me. After a moment, she scampered past me and picked up a hazelnut. She put a paw on her chest, then on the nut.

  “Hazelnut?” I guessed. She shook her head. “Hazel?” Her eyes brightened, and she nodded. When she gestured towards me, I sighed. “I don’t know.”

  Hazel put her paw on my left shoulder, causing a burst of pain to shoot through my wing. I staggered backwards, sucking in my breath. Her face creased with worry, she sniffed my shoulder, then sat close and inspected my wing, holding it gingerly between her paws. It hurt when she moved it. She turned and said something in the direction of one of the rabbits, who hopped over. I stood, watching their mouths move; Hazel motioned at me from time to time while my wing continued to throb.

  After a moment, Hazel scurried off to help the others. The rabbit twitched his ears and bounced once into the woods, looking back at me. I figured he meant for me to follow him, so I hopped behind him. Now that there was no immediate danger, I was more attuned to the pain. It was hard to avoid accidentally moving my wings. I wanted to help the squirrels and other forest animals with whatever they were doing in the aftermath of the fire, but I didn’t know how much good my help was going to be.

  The rabbit found a solid piece of bark and carried it in his mouth as we traveled along a stream. As soon as my eyes drifted to the water, a flashback came without warning. The light was sucked out of the world. Lightning flashed, and I heard a clap of thunder so close, I was sure my eardrums would shatter. I was falling, falling fast… and then, as soon as the vision had come, it was gone. I
was back on the riverbed, surrounded by silence, and I’d fallen onto my back.

  What just happened? Why was I able to hear the thunder?

  I guessed it was some sort of memory. I stared around me in shock.

  The rabbit helped me back up, then continued on at a faster pace, glancing back at me a couple times. We eventually came across a patch of milkweed, beneath a tree whose branches stretched over the river’s edge. He split the milkweed stalk into strands and used them to secure the bark onto my wing. Since I was facing the river as he worked, I focused on my reflection rather than the water, fearing another flashback. A vaguely familiar sparrow looked back at me. At first I examined his brown and black markings and fledgling fuzz, but my gaze was drawn to the eyes. Though I knew they were mine, somehow it felt as though the gold-speckled irises belonged to a stranger.

  Suddenly, intense pain shot through my wings as the rabbit shifted my bones into place. He made the final adjustments and clipped the strands with a swift bite. Then, before I could react, the overhanging branch crashed and almost crushed him. He leapt out of the way just in time, landing in the river. I heard nothing as he sputtered and spat, then crawled back to the shore, grasping the edge of the branch that now dipped into the water.

  What just happened?

  My wing felt heavy and stiff and throbbed with pain, but I was so stunned, I barely noticed it.

  The rabbit shook himself and looked at me warily. He twitched his ears, seeming to dismiss a thought. Turning from the river, he found a plant I didn’t recognize and held out a piece of torn leaf. I wasn’t sure what to do with it until he mimed putting it into his mouth. Trusting him, I chewed and swallowed, grimacing at the bitterness. He then stuffed several leaves into his own cheeks but didn’t swallow them. He nodded at me to do the same, so I picked up a few smaller pieces.

  He must want to replenish the supplies lost in the fire.

  I was glad to do something helpful, even if it was only carrying a few things. By the time we were back to the clearing with our first haul, the pain in my head and wing were starting to fade, and so was the memory of the storm.

  The rest of the day, I assisted the rabbit in gathering various herbs, berries, leaves, and roots. He used gestures to convey their purpose. Some of them helped with pain, others with stomachache. He even managed to show me a few that helped with birthing. I never imagined I’d see a male rabbit miming labor, and it sure was an interesting sight. For a moment, I forgot about my pain and laughed, but stopped short. Laughing silently was somehow even more uncomfortable than speaking.

  By the time the sky began to darken, the animals had tucked the pile of medicines into a burrow and built a makeshift structure of woven branches to protect the entrance from the rain. I wandered around for a while, looking for signs of any other animals that had been in medical care when the tree had ignited. Nothing. No animals were limping or injured, and there were no bones in the ashes of the tree. I was the only one who could have been hurt. I was the only one who could have died.

  Thankfully, Hazel found me before my brooding could get too dark. Since I was unable to fly, she led me to the rabbit’s burrow. He didn’t seem terribly happy to take me in, but didn’t resist when Hazel gave him a stern look. I found a corner to perch in for the night, as out of the way as possible. I was safe, for now. I drifted into uneasy sleep, still wondering what had caused the fire, why I’d lost my hearing, and why I could remember nothing about my past.

  II

  When I heard the crickets, I knew I was dreaming.

  Have I always been deaf in real life but able to hear in dreams?

  It was a quiet night, but I was suddenly aware of every little sound. I could hear frogs peeping and croaking in the distance, breeze rustling the trees, and bats flying overhead, snatching mosquitoes out of the air. I stood with my toes grazing the burnt center of the clearing. All that remained of the tree were charred slivers of wood and ash. But as I inspected it, something at the heart caught my eye. Drawing closer, I could see an odd array of items, all lined up in a row. On the left, a snake’s fang. On the right, a crow’s feather. And in the middle, a wolf’s claw, clean and sharp. When I nudged the items with my beak, they disintegrated into a pile of ash. I sneezed. The tiny cloud lingered for a moment as a dense, shapeless blob, then dissipated into the night. I woke up panting, with the metallic taste of blood on my tongue and silence ringing in my ears. Lying still for a moment, I tried to remember the sound of the frogs and breeze.

  ◆◆◆

  A few days later, Hazel convinced a pair of robins to let me watch them teach their children to fly. I followed the motions as much as I could with my wing strapped to a piece of bark. I enjoyed mimicking the motions and learned a lot during the session, but when it ended, the robins hurried their children away and left me to fend for myself. I didn’t understand why they were avoiding me. I dragged my feet on the way back to the rabbit’s hollow, but a commotion at the entrance made me stop short.

  The entrance was charred black. A pair of groundhogs ventured inside, and when they returned, soot dusted their fur. They dragged out the limp body of the rabbit, covered in burns. He was dead.

  I shook my head, stepping back. All eyes turned towards me. No… behind me.

  When I spun around, half a dozen stones were floating in the air, about as high as the top of my head. As soon as I noticed them, they dropped to the ground.

  What is happening? What kind of sorcery is this?

  I turned back to the other animals. They had once welcomed me into their homes and cared for my medical needs, but now I saw fear in all of their eyes. Even Hazel looked uncomfortable.

  “It’s not my fault!” I tried to protest, shuddering when I couldn’t hear my own words. “I didn’t have anything to do with this. I don’t know what caused the fires… I don’t know why any of this is happening!” I closed my eyes, trying to shut out their fear and find peace. Instead, the fang, feather, and claw were there in the darkness. The taste of blood stung my tongue.

  ◆◆◆

  No one was willing to let me stay in their home after that, no matter how much I protested. They all still drew a connection between the two fires. Me. I hadn’t been in the rabbit’s hollow when it caught fire, but I’d slept there the previous few nights. Hazel was spent time with me at least, but even she shook her head when I asked if I could stay with her. I found new places to rest, but each time I stayed there for a few nights, it was burnt to a crisp by the same mysterious fire that didn’t spread. What if there was a connection? Could something be attacking me?

  I made a habit of sleeping out in the open, so I could get away as soon as flames licked my skin. Sometimes the fire came when I wasn’t there, but each new fire came closer to catching me off guard than the previous one. I had more than a few singed feathers now, and I was running out of places to stay that weren’t near the stream. I might be safer from the flames there, but not from the terrifying flashbacks.

  Every time I saw flowing water, the same memory took over. Thunder and lightning seared my mind, and strange things happened. Sometimes rocks levitated on their own; sometimes an odd breeze ruffled my feathers in the wrong direction. Once, I opened my eyes to find myself on the other side of the stream and had to try to make my way back over. I hopped from rock to rock, barely able to look where I was going, afraid another accident would happen while I was standing in the middle of the stream. I remembered the first flashback and how the poor rabbit nearly got crushed by a falling branch shortly afterward. Unlike the fires, these events seemed too correlated with the flashbacks for them not to be my fault. I had no control over them, but at least they weren’t nearly as harmful as the targeted flames.

  On top of everything else, every night, the same nightmare haunted me. Every morning, I woke to the taste of blood. I wished I knew what the dream meant, and why all of this was happening to me.

  When the moon shifted from half to full, it was finally time to remove my splint. I was ex
cited that I could now be just as helpful as the other birds and I’d actually be able to fly on my own. I wanted to celebrate this happy moment. Hazel gathered a pile of nuts, seeds, and my favorite berries. She even hung a few sprigs of sweet-smelling goldenrod on the branches of my current resting place. But despite all of the extra food she’d prepared, despite the pleasing scents wafting from the tree, no one else came to say hello. When we took the excess food back to the community storage, I looked around, trying to meet the gaze of the other woodland creatures. The young ones stared or looked at me with curiosity, but the adults shot glances my way before hurrying their children away. Their fear and distrust hurt me. I wanted nothing more than to belong.

  I looked sadly at my squirrel friend. She was the only one who showed me any kindness in this place, but I knew from her tired expression that she was sacrificing too much. The more time she spent with me, the more the other creatures avoided her, too. Between the fires and floating rocks and everything else, these animals had so many reasons to fear me. My presence was endangering them, whether I could do anything about it or not.

  I sighed. “I can’t stay here,” I admitted to Hazel. Her expression fell to one of sorrow, but her eyes showed understanding. After saying those few words, the rest came bubbling out of nowhere. All my thoughts and fears and emotions rose to the surface, and even my discomfort at the silence of my voice couldn’t hold them back.

  “The fires are bad, but it’s not just them. There’s so much I don’t understand… the nightmares, the flashbacks, the weird stuff that happens around me… I need to know what’s causing all of it, and I don’t think it’s getting better with time, either. Maybe I have family out there somewhere, or at least someone who knew me before I arrived here. I’m scared, but I don’t know what else to do…”