12. Helena #2
In moments like these, Helena realized she could end up never seeing an owl-bear and still thoroughly enjoy the study.
For a moment, she considered proudly announcing to Dr. J that she was now at peace with being the only Person who hadn’t seen evidence of owl-bears.
But doing so would mean admitting that Bertram was right and Helena previously had been upset, so perhaps she wouldn’t tell Dr. J.
Helena was startled out of her thoughts by a sudden gust of wind from just above, causing her dark hair to wrap around her face.
Helena blew the hair out of her eyes and found the source of the breeze.
At first, all Helena saw—or perhaps all her mind was able to process—was a claw.
One singular claw, hooked like a scythe and just as sharp. The distinctive shape of a bird of prey’s, perfect for ripping flesh or gripping trees.
The claw alone was about the size of Helena’s hand, attached to a toe only slightly longer. There were four toes in total, stretched out in two sets—three toes facing forward, one toe backward—as the great animal came in for a landing.
The toes swiveled in the unique zygodactyl configuration seen almost exclusively in ospreys, owls . . .
And owl-bears.
The owl-bear was a female; this much was clear from her bright gold beak and ridiculously massive size. Helena felt like she cowered in the shadow of a rapidly descending elephant as the owl-bear dropped down to the ground.
The owl-bear’s keen amber eyes were fixated on the ground as she leaned her weight back and thrust her four feet forward for a landing.
Helena had to shield her eyes as the owl-bear’s glittering gold feathers caught the sun.
It was clear to see why camera traps could never have caught her movements—Helena had trouble seeing past the gleam of the reflected light even with her naked eye.
The gold shone brightest in the most heavily-feathered areas—the owl-bear’s chest, legs, tail, and wings—but there were strands of thick gold fur threaded throughout the light brown fur of the owl-bear’s face and body.
Helena was surprised at how quiet the owl-bear’s landing was, even as it was a bit unsteady.
At first Helena wondered if the unsteadiness came from the combination of bird-like feet in a quadrupedal form, but as the owl-bear shuffled her feet to gain purchase, she realized the source of the owl-bear’s imbalance.
One of her wings was bent at an odd angle. Broken, just as Jennie had suspected.
It stirred a strange mix of emotions in Helena.
It hurt her to see so strong and beautiful a creature so brutally injured.
It was an old injury, as the wing had clearly healed, but it had healed bent and wrong.
And what made it even more painful for Helena to look at was the knowledge that it was her species who had caused the owl-bear this pain.
Her species who had built a world to their own specifications, their own needs and desires, with no regards as to how that might affect every other being they shared the planet with.
And yet, there was another emotion within Helena as she watched the owl-bear move toward the water’s edge. There was something inspirational in the owl-bear’s lopsided motions, too: The owl-bear was still flying.
Not as high as she should have been able to, nor as smoothly, and her landing was uneven at best.
But she was flying, nevertheless. She was surviving.
For now.
It was up to Helena, along with Bertram and Jennie, to make sure the owl-bear kept surviving, and that wasn’t going to happen unless they were able to protect her home in these mountains.
This magnificent, slightly broken animal was trapped. Trapped by roads encircling this small stretch of undeveloped mountains, a stretch that would grow smaller and smaller if humans had their way.
Helena would not let them have their way.
Her whole life, all Helena had wanted to do was help animals, help magical creatures, help otherfolk.
And now here was her opportunity to do that.
Helena’s heart thundered in her chest as she slowly reached for her rifle, motion as smooth and silent as she could manage.
The owl-bear walked to the water’s edge and lowered her massive head to take a sip.
Helena tried to remember the abbreviation for drinking that they had established within their ethogram. She couldn’t recall. Her head was dizzy from excitement and fear.
She raised the rifle. She had almost left it back at the lab and thanked the research project spirits (if there were such a thing) that she remembered to take it with her, just in case of this exact scenario.
If someone had finally seen the owl-bear in Person but not been able to start tracking her, it would’ve been a huge letdown.
That said, Helena’s hands were shaking so badly she wasn’t sure if she would be able to fire at all. The idea of aiming properly was beyond unrealistic.
This is on you, Helena scolded herself. Don’t fuck this up. Do it for Dr. J. She trusts you. Do it for Bertram. Prove to Bertram you can do this; show him you deserve to be here—
Helena shook her head, clearing her mind.
No. This isn’t about Bertram. This is about the owl-bears. This is about the otherfolk crossing. Don’t think about anything else. You’re doing this for the owl-bears.
Helena took a deep breath . . . raised the rifle . . . steadied her hands as best she could . . . and fired.
The magiglass casing shot through the air and disintegrated as designed, sending the spell hurtling forth.
There was the slightest ruffle of fur on the owl-bear’s flank, and the jump of a tiny purple spark.
That was a hit, Helena thought to herself. Oh my God, that was a hit.
The owl-bear looked up. She peered around the trees, and for the briefest second Helena worried the owl-bear would see her. But then the owl-bear shook her body (was there a code for that? Helena couldn’t remember) and returned to lapping at the water.
The owl-bear finished drinking in what could have been five seconds or five years—time had frozen for Helena the moment she first laid eyes on her.
The owl-bear wandered around the edge of the lake for a bit, sniffing around with her beak in the dirt (did owl-bears have a more bear-like sense of smell?) and even ate a marigold growing on the bank (opportunistic foraging omnivore, Helena noted).
Then, with three powerful flaps of her wings, the owl-bear made an awkward and unsteady ascent back into the sky.
Helena stood quietly, trying not to lose sight of the owl-bear while not stepping into the owl-bear’s sight.
But the owl-bear seemed to have vanished, and no matter which direction Helena ran or how carefully she looked up through branches, she didn’t regain sight of her.
The owl-bear was gone.
But hopefully, the tracking spell was gone with her.
If so, that meant that that owl-bear had just officially become V-1.