George nodded.
Declan kept looking at him.
"I understand," George said.
"Go ahead," Declan said.
George touched the bird on the right. She was the smallest, and he felt sorry for her the most. The bird pulled at his magic, it stretched, snapped, and Georgie recoiled, biting his lip. It always hurt when he raised something. He couldn't see the arrow hole under the feathers, but he felt it, and he fed a little of his magic down the line, closing it up, nice and neat, just in case.
The bird shivered. Slowly, she stretched one leg, then the other, rolled, and got to her feet.
MEmEre sucked in her breath. "Now you've done it. You've started the whole thing over again."
"Very good." Declan rose to his feet and moved to stand by the bird. "I want you to close your eyes and turn around, keeping the bird very still. I'm going to touch the bird, and I need you to tell me when I do."
George closed his eyes. A faint touch disturbed the magic. "Now," he said.
"Very good," Declan said. "What am I doing now?"
"You're pinning the wings to the body."
"I need you to tell me when you feel me let go."
A long moment passed. The pressure on the crow vanished. "Now!"
"Excellent. You can turn around now."
Declan walked away until several yards separated them. "Try to make it walk toward me."
"Her," Georgie corrected. "It's a girl bird."
"Sorry. Please make her walk toward me."
George tugged on the line. He'd never before tried to make a bird walk. Stopping the creatures from moving was easy. This was harder. The crow stumbled and spun in place.
"Take your time," Declan said.
George concentrated. The longer he focused on the magic between them, the more complex it became: at first it was a line, then it was a whole bunch of thinner lines, woven together, and then the lines fractured into a glowing web that clutched at the bird. He tried to tug on the web. The crow jerked and fell into the dirt. Georgie shook his head, trying to clear his vision.
"It's all right, Georgie, you don't have to do it," MEmEre said.
"Grandmother, let him be," Rose said. "Please."
George sighed. This just wasn't the way to do it. "Get over to Declan," he whispered.
The crow picked herself up and spread her wings. She took to the air, flew a few feet, and landed on Declan's shoulder.
"Sorry," George said.
"It's good," Declan said. "Try it again."
George nodded. It took him a good ten minutes to figure out what he needed to do. He had to concentrate very closely on the path before the crow to get her to walk. If he let up, she would fly over to Declan. When the crow had finally done her little walk, George let out a happy sigh.
"Tired?" Declan asked.
"No."
"New game, then." Declan opened his hand and showed him a small reddish rock. He tossed the rock into the dirt. "Can she bring it back?"
The crow swooped, grasped the rock, flew back, and dropped it into Declan's palm. George smiled.
Declan raised his eyebrows. "This is supposed to be harder than walking the bird."
"It's easier for me." All he had to do was to concentrate on the rock and then on Declan.
"He used to make the birds steal cherries for us," Jack said.
Declan bent back and hurled the rock into the bushes. The crow took off from his shoulder and followed the path of the rock, perching on a branch. George frowned. He couldn't see the rock from where he sat.
"You can't find it?" Declan asked.
"I have to look through her eyes to find it," George said quietly.
"And you don't like doing that," Declan said.
George shook his head.
"Because you forget you're not a bird when you do it? And it's hard to remember how to get back?"
George startled. "How did you know that?"
"My aunt is a necromancer. What I'm asking you to do is called necromantic possession. There is a trick to it. If I promise you that I can help you get back to your body, will you try it?"
"Rose!" MEmEre jumped off the log.
"George, you don't have to do it, if you don't want to," Rose said. "It's your choice. Nobody will be angry if you don't."
George thought about it. He'd done it only once with a cat, because Jack was a cat whenever he wanted, and he had never been one and wanted to know what it was like. The only reason he had returned to his body at all was because Jack found him, sitting still in the yard, and tackled him from behind, knocking the wind out of him. The worst thing was that he couldn't even remember what it was like to be a cat. He just remembered the vague, scary feeling of looking and looking for something and not being able to find it, and knowing that he was looking for his own body.
He wanted to know what it was like to be a bird.
George looked at Declan. "Okay," he said.
"Whenever you're ready." Declan nodded.
George looked at the crow, grasped the line of magic stretching between them, and pulled, propelling himself into the black body.
The world exploded into colors for which there was no name. For a long moment, he sat still, lost in the vibrancy and shimmering glow of the leaves, until something nudged him gently from the back of his mind.
The rock.
He was supposed to find the rock.
He hopped off the branch into the leaves and searched the ground. There it was, glittering with a dozen hues. So pretty. Pretty, pretty rock.
He took it into his beak and crashed through the bush. The sunlit grass was so beautiful. In the distance, he saw figures: two standing together, crystal clear and glowing, one stronger, the other weaker. Words surfaced in his mind. Rose. MEmEre. He wasn't sure what they meant, but he knew they made him feel good. He saw another figure, smaller, with an odd tint to it. He knew it as well. Jack. A fourth figure waited to his right, the largest of them all. Declan. He had to do something for Declan. He felt drawn to him, and he didn't know why. He spread his wings and flew to him, landing on his arm, Declan warm and rough under his claws. The rock fell from his beak.
There was a fifth figure, one he hadn't seen before. It slumped on the ground, curled into a ball. There was something oddly familiar about it, but it didn't glow like the others.
Declan opened his mouth and made a noise.
Ice slammed into him. He cried out, the world swirled, and George jerked up, gasping. His face was wet. Next to him, Jack stood with an empty bucket.
Rose's arms closed about him. They felt so comfortable and warm.