Page 39 of Hallowed Bones

“Because I want your opinion before mine ruins it,” she grumbles. “Besides, you like shiny things. You’re basically a magpie.”

“Who said I like shiny things?” I ask. “And I thought crows were the ones that like shiny things.”

Elodie doesn’t get a chance to reply as a deafening thud smacks against the window. We both shriek. I jump up from my chair, heart pounding as I eye the window—where the sound had come from.

“What the actual—” Elodie rushes toward the window, her fingers grazing the latch.

“Wait!” I stop her, diving forward and locking onto her wrist before she can open the window. What if it’s a monster? A nightmare? What if—

“Haven, let go!” Elodie shakes off my hand.

“Don’t,” I whisper-shout. “It could get in.”

She scoffs. “Yeah, because I’m going to let it in,” she says. “It’s probably a bird.”

Then it happens again. Another winged shadow slams into the glass. This time harder. The window shudders as yet another soaring black creature with flapping wings slams into the glass from the other side. Elodie crashes into me, stepping on my foot as she careens back and away from the noise.

“Oh my god!”

Her shout of surprise grows distant in my ears as I peer through the now-smudged glass of the window to the creature on the other side. A black mass flaps madly against the pane. Its beady eyes are locked on mine.

A chill seeps into the room.

The bird isn’t attacking—it’s pleading. Desperate. I can feel it. My breath quickens, fear blooming like rot in my gut.

“It’s going to kill itself,” Elodie whispers. Her voice sounds far away.

She’s right. The bird will keep going—smashing itself into the glass over and over again until it breaks its wings and dies. I don’t know how I know that, but I do.

My hand is already on the latch that I’d told her not to open. I slide it free, and the window swings out. The crow blasts in, feathers scattering, its wings slicing the air. Elodie shrieks, spinning to shut the window while I turn to face the animal.

The bird crashes to the floor, its body trembling, breaths labored. I kneel slowly. One hand hovers above it, then brushes soft feathers—too clean, too perfect for something wild.

“It’s not scared of us,” Elodie breathes, her voice nearly a whisper as she sticks close to my back, peering over at the bird. “Maybe it’s someone’s pet.”

“Maybe,” I murmur. Softly stroking the bird’s chest with the pad of one finger, I move my other hand to inspect its wing. One side bends wrong. Not broken, but not right either.

“Grab a box,” I instruct. “Under the bed.”

She moves, for once without comment. Together we layer newspapers, grab a bowl of water, some sunflower seeds that we had on hand, and create a nest. I’m not sure if birds can eat sunflower seeds, but I don’t want to leave it hungry when we have to go. I cradle the bird in a towel and settle it into its temporary sanctuary.

“We can’t keep it,” Elodie warns. “Pets aren’t allowed in the dorms.”

“We’re not keeping it forever,” I tell her. “We’ll just let it rest for now and see if we can find out who its owner is tomorrow. It might need to be taken to a vet, though…”

She glances from me to the bird and back again. “That was freaky. We were literally just talking about crows.” She chuckles nervously. “Maybe I’m psychic or something—as if.”

I smile at her joke but focus on the animal as I adjust where it lies, panting, inside its box. Elodie helps me load it into the bottom of my wardrobe. She grimaces, but doesn’t say anything, when I leave the door cracked just enough for air. Enough for freedom.

“Wash your hands,” is all she says as she moves back to her side of the room.

I obey in a haze, my mind tangled in feathers and obsidian eyes. When I return, I lace up my Converse in silence. My eyes are on the wardrobe, and Elodie steps in front of it.

“No way,” she tells me, shaking her head. “We’re not staying in just because a suicidal bird decided to break into our dorm room.”

My shoulders slump. Maybe Cameron doesn’t know me and I’m just readable, because of all people to read my exact thoughts, I hadn’t expected it to be Elodie.

“Sorry,” I say. “I know how much you’ve been looking forward to this weekend.”