The Falconer – Part 2: Fly Free

On Daniel's last morning, the glen was shining.

The mist had burned off. The sun blazed on the heather, turning the hillsides to rose and gold. A golden eagle drifted far overhead, a dot in the sky. Daniel stood in the grass with the leather glove on his fist and Morag on his arm, her feathers ruffled by the breeze.

"Ready?" said Ruairi.

"No."

"Good. Go."

He lifted his arm. Morag opened her wings and lifted away, a sudden gust of chestnut and white. She flew low over the heather, beating down the glen, banking at the burn, soaring up to a distant rock. Daniel watched her go, his heart soaring with her.

"She'll come back?" he called.

"If you call right."

He raised the glove. He whistled, once, as Ruairi had taught him. Morag turned on the wind. She dropped from the sky like a thrown spear and landed on his fist, wings flaring, with a gentle thump. Her amber eyes met his.

"You did it," said Ruairi, quietly.

"She came back."

"She did."

Daniel laughed, a bright, shaky sound. His eyes were wet. He fed her a morsel. She took it, delicately, and settled.

They walked back to the courtyard through the heather, Morag riding on Daniel's glove. The stone walls were warm in the sun. At the gate, Ruairi stopped and leaned on the post. The hawk hopped across to perch beside him.

"Can I ask you something?" said Daniel.

"Yes."

"May I come back?"

"I was going to ask that."

"May I kiss you, Ruairi?"

"Yes," said Ruairi, a rough whisper. "And if you say stop, you must stay for the autumn flights."

"That isn't a punishment."

"I know."

Daniel kissed him, gentle and trembling, a gloved hand rising to the grey-flecked beard. Ruairi kissed him back with a deep, slow sweetness, tasting of tea and woodsmoke. Morag watched from the gatepost with one amber eye, unimpressed. The wind combed the heather.

When they parted, both of them were smiling.

"Green?" asked Ruairi.

"Green," said Daniel. "Very green."

He came back for the autumn flights, and the winter ones. Morag allows him on the glove. She is, in general, unimpressed.

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