6. Chapter SixRORY
Chapter Six
RORY
Dawn shattered the sky with jagged pinks and oranges. I ruffled my feathers, shaking off the morning dew that clung to me. Mina stepped out onto the creaky porch. She hugged herself against the bite of fall air, her breath forming brief, fragile clouds.
Her gaze swept across the yard, lingering on the fallen branches and scattered leaves before lifting to the roof. “Oh no,” she murmured. “The window wasn’t the only thing that went to pieces.”
My gullet tightened as I followed her gaze to the dislodged shingles and the gaping hole the storm had torn open. The damage was worse than I’d first thought.
Mina huffed into her cupped hands, trying to steal some warmth from the frosty morning. She craned her neck, squinting at the roof. Her smile was gone, replaced by worry. It was the kind of face someone makes when life’s just too much. My talons dug into the cold earth as I watched her, helpless.
She shrugged and let out a sigh. “Well, there’s no point in wishing it away. This problem won’t fix itself.” With that, she disappeared back into the house. I knew what was coming next and flapped my wings in agitation.
A moment later, she reemerged with a tool belt slung over her shoulder and a lengthy rope in hand. She made for the shed, where an old ladder leaned precariously against the wall. My gobbles of protest fell on deaf ears as she yanked the ladder free and started towards the house.
If she got hurt, how could I get help? The curse made me powerless to protect her as I should.
“Don’t worry, silly. I got this.” Mina set the ladder against the side of the house and tested its stability with a few shakes. The wooden frame creaked with the movement.
I paced in tight circles around Mina and the ladder. If I was human, I’d have shut this down with a few gruff words. Mina was hellbent on refusing to ask for help even when it was clear she needed it. That trait might have earned my respect if it weren’t so dangerous.
She tied the rope around her waist with a practiced knot, then fastened the tool belt, its heavy tools clanking together. Mina looked like an action hero, but in a cheesy movie. The kind where the sassy lead goes too far and pays the price. Mina glanced at the roof, inhaled deeply, and began her climb.
“Wait, stop!” I barked out in my head. But I couldn’t say a word. Didn’t she get it was dangerous? My mind raced. If she fell, it would be much worse than a sprained ankle. The first frost of the season had hardened the ground. A fall from that height could break bones, or worse.
I remembered the times in my past when I’d taken similar risks, thinking I was invincible. It was only through sheer luck that I’d come away in one piece, and I knew better now. Experience had tempered my recklessness, but Mina seemed driven to learn the hard way.
She inched higher; the ladder swayed with each movement. Damn it all. I wanted to shout, to reason with her, to tell her that accepting help wasn’t a sign of weakness.
Mina reached the top and balanced on the highest rung, her fingers clutched the edge of the roof for support. After examining the damage, she took out her rope, untied it, and secured it to the chimney. This woman is driving me crazy. Even if she knew how to fix the shingles, the storm had left the roof covered in ice.
All I could manage was an indignant gobble. She glanced down at me, sweat already beading on her forehead despite the cool air. “Are you still worried? Don’t be. I might not look it, but I have some experience.”
Is she kidding me? Her well-being was the one thing keeping me anchored to this godforsaken farmstead, and watching her flirt with disaster like this was more than I could bear.
She loosened a shingle, and the ladder wobbled, causing her to clutch the roof in a white-knuckled grip. My breath caught in my throat. But Mina steadied herself and then went back to prying at the shingle with more caution.
Time stretched on.
All the while, my eyes never left her.
The ladder shifted again, more violently this time, and my world slowed to a crawl. Her body arched backwards, arms flailing to grasp the roof, the air, anything that could save her.
A scream tore from her lips as gravity took hold.
I didn’t think. Couldn’t. There was no time for thought. Instincts older than my curse, older than my human doubts, roared to life within me. Protect . The command echoed through my mind with primal force. A burst of forgotten magic flared within me. A spark that grew into a raging inferno.
For her, I seized it with every ounce of my being.
Agony lanced through me. Bones stretched and contorted. Sinew and muscle wove themselves into new patterns. Feathers burst from my skin like hot shrapnel, then dissolved into taut flesh.
The chilly morning air bit into my human skin with a thousand tiny teeth, shocking me into full awareness. I saw her falling, her eyes wide with terror, her mouth frozen in a silent scream. With a burst of speed, I lunged to the spot where she would land, arms outstretched. Her body collided with mine, the force knocking us both to the ground. I rolled, taking the brunt of the impact, and held her tight until we skidded to a halt on the frost-hardened earth.
Silence enveloped us, broken only by the ragged sound of our breathing. I felt the thudding cadence of her heart against my chest. The warmth of her body seeped into me. Damn it. Holding her felt right. But even that was a distant thing, overshadowed by the sheer relief that she was unhurt.
Mina stirred, and I loosened my grip just enough for her to look up. Her eyes held a dazed look. She took in my face, my rough beard, and the rest of me in one glance. “Who are you?” she breathed.
This was the moment of truth. The point of no return. “Howdy,” I said, my voice rough as gravel.
Her gaze flickered with confusion, then settled into something more guarded. She didn’t recognize me, of course, not in this form. Why would she? It had been years since anyone had seen me as a man.
Slowly, Mina removed herself from my arms and stood on her own. She seemed to play out different scenarios in her head. I could be a wanderer, a farm worker, or perhaps a distant neighbor. But never the turkey who’d shadowed her every move these past days.
“Thank you,” she said, warily. “I didn’t see you... where did you even come from?”
I grunted, pushing myself to a sitting position. My body ached like hell. Going to feel that tomorrow. The magic still buzzed under my skin, leaving me jittery. “Just passing through,” I said, scrambling for a story that would make sense to her. “Heard the scream and ran over. Good thing too, or you’d be a pancake right about now.”
Shit. Real smooth, genius. But my brain struggled to piece together a halfway believable story that didn’t involve, “Hey, I’m that feral turkey you’ve been talking to.”
Mina brushed dirt from her elbows and palms, her eyes never leaving mine. Suspicion laced her features, but she wasn’t the type to take someone’s help for granted, even if it came from an unexpected source.
The chill from the ground jolted me back to reality. I glanced down, and reality hit me like a truck. Well, hell . Naked as the day I was born. “Uh, hate to ask, but you wouldn’t have a spare pair of men’s jeans lying around... Or a huge sock?”
Mina gasped, her hand flying to her mouth as she took a step back. The color rushed to her cheeks when she realized what had been in front of her the whole time. “ Oh! ” She turned away quickly, then glanced back over her shoulder despite herself. “In the barn. There’s... there’s a blanket in the loft.”
I started towards the barn, trying to act like it was normal to be buck naked in freezing weather. The weight of my new situation pressed down on me with every step I took. Somehow, I’d broken free from that damn turkey curse, at least for now. Why? Hell, if I knew. But one thing was certain: I wasn’t willing to go back to being poultry.
At the barn door, I paused and looked back at Mina. She held the ladder, her body tense as if deciding whether to climb back up or call it a day. “You shouldn’t try it again,” I called out. “It’s too dangerous.”
She met my gaze, and for a moment I thought she might argue, might tell me to mind my own business. But then she sighed and nodded. “You’re right. I’ll call someone for help.”
“Good girl.”
Mina’s eyes widened, and she clamped a hand over her mouth, stifling what I assumed was a gasp. I couldn’t help but smirk at her reaction.
Shaking my head, I headed for the barn. The familiar scents of hay and livestock hit me as I entered. It was surreal seeing this place with human eyes again. I climbed to the loft, muscles protesting the unfamiliar movement. There, draped over a bale, was the promised blanket. It wasn’t exactly king-sized, but it’d have to do. I wrapped it around my waist, tying it off with a knot that I hoped would hold.
For a moment, I stood there, taking stock. Hands, feet, a grizzled face that wasn’t all beak. Damn, it felt good to be human again.
Climbing down from the loft, memories came flooding back to me. Winters spent chopping firewood till my hands blistered. Springs mending endless stretches of fence. Summers harvesting under a merciless sun. All the shit I’d signed up for to get away from city life. Now, watching Mina struggle with this place solo... it didn’t sit right.
I stepped out of the barn, adjusting the blanket on my frame. Mina was coiling the rope at the base of the ladder. She looked tired. More than just physically worn out from her near fall.
“You alright?” I called out, immediately regretting how gruff I sounded.
She glanced up, startled. “Yeah, I’m... I’m fine. Thanks again for... you know.”
I grunted, not sure what else to say.
Mina stood and wiped her hands on her jeans, leaving smudges of dirt on the fabric. She looked at me, then quickly away, her eyes darting like a sparrow’s. “You never said your name.”
“Rory.”
“I’m Mina... and this is going to sound strange, but have we met before?”
How was I supposed to explain that I’d been living with her for days now? That as a turkey, I’d absorbed every detail of her life because it was the only thing keeping me sane.
“Maple Ridge is a small town. We might have passed by each other.” It was a weak save, and I knew it.
“And you were passing by in the cold... In your birthday suit and suddenly helped me?”
“Look, I’m not some hero. I just didn’t want to see you splattered on the ground.”
Silence hung between us. She was searching my face for something. I didn’t know what. All I could offer was the blank stare of a man with too many secrets.
“Please don’t misunderstand,” she said softly. “I appreciate it, but you could have just called out and scared me back onto the roof.”
I almost laughed at that. If she’d known how many times I’d squawked uselessly from below...
“Next time I’ll shout,” I said.
She studied me for a long moment. “There’s hot coffee inside if you want to warm up.”
The sensible thing would be to decline and make a run for my cabin while I still had legs to carry me. But sense had never been my strong suit.
“Coffee sounds good.”
“Come inside. It’s too cold to be standing outside like that.” Mina led the way to the farmhouse.
It was exactly like I remembered, a charming, faded relic of the past with peeling paint and a porch that drooped slightly. The warm air and the smell of freshly baked goods washed over me as we entered. My stomach growled loudly, and I remembered what it was like to be hungry for human food.
She pointed to a chair in the kitchen. “Take a seat. I’ll get the coffee.”
I sat down. The inside was just as cluttered and cozy as I remembered, with plants, stacks of books, and knitting projects strewn about.
Mina returned with two steaming mugs. She hesitated before handing it to me, as if approaching a wild animal. I took it and let the heat seep into my fingers. She sat across from me, her hands resting on the table, fidgeting with her mug. “So... Why were you out in the cold like that?”
Here it was. The moment where I’d have to make up some tale or come clean. I took a sip of coffee and nearly burned my tongue. It was strong and bitter, just how I used to like it. How much could I tell her without sounding completely insane? Probably not a lot, but I had to try something. I owed her an explanation. And maybe more than that.