Chapter 15. The End of Atticus

A cold wind was blowing from the north. Nisreen gathered her cloak more tightly around her. Milak wasn’t beside her. He was further back, already in formation waiting for his family to arrive. A thin glow of light illumined the eastern horizon. The sun was making its way to sunrise. In the trees, the Watchers had already gathered to bid a distant farewell to Atticus. No one else came. Especially not Atticus family. The others didn’t gamble their lives to watch the gore of the Ritual. Nisreen’s eyes turned to Atticus’ naked body. He was nothing but bones. Not only had he caught contagion, he must have had a wasting sickness. It was an illness he hid beneath his fine clothes. This would not be a feast, or a operation of sustenance, this would only be the destruction of Contagion. The question was how would Granny divide him up. The young and the old would be hard pressed to get what little meat there was off his bones. With every bit of her living existence, Nisreen wished she was not here. She was here though, and here she would stay until the Ritual was over.

From the sky her kin began to drop. Her cousin Nate and family glided into their spot in the concentric circle. Malik’s mother, sister and father landed beside him. Other’s came. By the time the sun crested the rim of the earth all were present.

In the distance a movement caught her eye. Nisreen saw Uncle Possim beside the garden shed. His broken body hadn’t responded the Ritual. He was as he always was. The brown cloak he wore marked him as disabled. In this moment, Nisreen wished she wore a brown cloak, wished she was not burdened by her health. He caught her gaze and smiled. He looked happy. Why? His eyes turned to Atticus. She looked at her dead harasser. In the warming light of the sun, she noticed his pustules were all gone. All! Old Shelia’s had not gone away. Why? Was it possible the salve Uncle Possim had made, had obliterated them? Had anyone else noticed? Surely Granny had.

And so it began. Nisreen steeled herself as Granny breathed out the low grunt chant of transformation. She closed her eyes and felt her body morph and change. It occurred to her that this transformation was seen as natural and not magic. It was natural for her kind. Was that all that magic was? Was it something that was natural, born into, flowing in the blood, just a trait inherited? She felt the tug of her beak, her wings, her feathers. Her vision became sharp. Through veiled eyelashes she peaked at Malik’s d and saw his wings sprout and his beak emerge. The new sun reflected off his black iridescent feathers. He was magnificent!

Granny made a shrill sound in her throat, calling all to attention. The Ritual would fail if all didn’t apply themselves. Nisreen tightly closed her eyes and let the Ritual carry her beyond herself and into the realms of duty. That sacred space was all that mattered now, all that was necessary.

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When the time came for the body to be consumed only the young males were called forward to crush and devour Atticus. Nisreen kept her eyes closed. She knew her cousin Nate, and Malik standing beside what remained of her tormentor. The crunch of his bones rang in the still morning air. She wanted to cover her ears with her wings, but she couldn’t. She wanted to be anywhere but here, but she couldn’t leave. If she did it would be a distraction, and break the concentration necessary to eradicate contagion.

When it was finally over, Nisreen opened her eyes. Atticus was completely gone. Nothing remained. She saw Nate wipe the blood off his beak with his wings. Nausea twirled inside of here. At least this time if she did throw up, she would not risk spreading contagion. She turned her attention to the garden shed, Uncle Possim was not there. He alone didn’t have to participate in the grisly Ritual. Again, Nisreen wished she wore a brown cloak.

It was time to leave. Though only the young males had partaken, all would separate to their place of cleansing. Cleanliness was very important when dealing with Contagion. Nisreen’s heart sank as she rose into the air. The wind tugged at her and called to her, but did not comfort her. Was this form, this ability enough to keep her going for the rest of her life…to keep her at her duty? A small voice inside of her whispered, “Maybe, maybe not.” The voice was not helpful. When she reached the stream, she landed softly. All around her the wind whipped through the bare trees. The cold air bit her bald head. She closed her eyes and began to the process of reemergence. The beak, the wings the sharp talons all returned to the place inside that stored them. Her natural form returned and she pulled her hood over her head. It was over for now. Would now last or had Contagion already taken root in her community? She hoped it was over, prayed it was over, but it might not be. These sober thoughts drove her home.

As she walked to the house, sunlight flitted through the bare branches. She couldn’t help but remember how Atticus had appeared to her after Old Shelia passed. He had most likely watched her change her form, he had definitely chased her in the air. Stupid Hunter! He was gone now. Forever gone. His death meant Malik wouldn’t be sleeping in the front room tonight. He wouldn’t eat breakfast with her tomorrow or take her out for a clandestine sling shot lesson. She had almost mastered the weapon.

The sound of voices broke into her the silence. Up ahead was her yard. Under the trees was Malik. He and the other young males were talking in earnest. Her cousin Nate’s voice rose and fell as he said, “Did you taste mint? I tasted mint.”

Malik said, “It was probably the salve Uncle Possim put on him.”

Nate nodded. “For the first time ever, I didn’t taste bitterness of death, did you?”

The young males shook their heads.

Nisreen stopped where she was. Had Uncle Possim’s salve have two advantageous properties? Were there more?