Page 38 of Out for Blood
Ares observed with watchful eyes as Hawk used a key to unfasten the padlock on Freya’s cage.
“I feel bad,” I said. “Ares will want to fly too.”
“Don’t feel bad. I have someone who helps out when I’m gone. Ares has gotten plenty of flight time since I was here last.”
Hawk stepped inside Freya’s open cage and let out a whistle.
The bird, sitting on one of the low wooden perches, didn’t move.
“Come on now,” Hawk said. “Don’t be like that. I wanted to come sooner.”
He made a softtsk-tsk-tsksound with his tongue and Freya launched herself off the perch. I took a step back as she approached, her wingspan shockingly wide, her movements powerful.
She landed on Hawk’s extended fist, covered by the gauntlet that ran almost all the way to his elbow.
He murmured a greeting and used the tiny clips on the glove to attach her legs, along with a bell that chimed softly through the barn. Then he slipped a black leather hood over her head.
“Doesn’t that scare her?” I asked.
“It calms her,” Hawk said. “Keeps her from being agitated by new surroundings.”
“Let’s go, beauty,” he said. “Time to fly.”
We made our way outside, Freya as still as a statue on Hawk’s hand. She was even more beautiful up close, her chocolate-brown feathers downy, sharp talons gripping the gauntlet that covered Hawk’s forearm.
We walked away from the barn and out into the field, golden under the October sun. My vision wasn’t as clear as it was without the safety goggles, but it was still like being in a movie, standing in the long wild grass with Hawk, Freya planted on his arm like some kind of mythological creature.
“Let’s get this off so you can see,” Hawk said, reaching up to remove the hood from Freya’s head.
She bobbed on his fist, her head swiveling as she took in her new surroundings.
“That’s right, girl,” Hawk said, petting her head. “You know these hunting grounds, don’t you?”
He reached into the leather bag strapped to his body and removed a tiny piece of raw meat.
He offered it to her and a split second later she pecked it out of his hand.
“Good girl.” He looked at me. “Want to pet her?”
“Are you sure it’s okay?”
“It’s fine. Just go slow.”
I reached up carefully, the bird tracking my every move, and ran my hand gently over the back of her head.
“She’s so soft,” I said. “Like silk.”
I pulled back and Hawk carefully unclipped Freya’s talons from the leather glove.
He turned until the wind blew his hair back from his face, then he stepped forward, sweeping his arm up and out.
Freya launched into the sky with a flap of her wings so majestic I felt something shift inside me. She flew low across the field, her great wings carrying her swiftly over the grass.
“She’s hunting,” Hawk said.
She swooped up when she reached the surrounding woods.
“How do you know she’ll come back?”
