Chapter 3. The Remains

The remains of Old Shelia lay silent. The morning shadows stretched across the dew wet grasses. A thin fog hovered around the body like a wispy cloud dropped from heaven. It was a good omen. Nisreen didn’t know if an angel had come for the old female, but she hoped so. She and her family gathered around Old Shelila’s empty body. Though her body was of no use to her soul now, it still had value. It was a ripe field of grain for those who ate contagion.

Granny stood at the head of the body and raised her arms to the sun’s elongating spears of light. A slow hiss rose in her empty vocal cords. The sound of great wings filled the air. Nisreen looked up, her kinfolk were arriving for the feast. Her kind shared their food, their bounty. It was important that their tribes were not selfish. Controlling pestilence and disease was a difficult life, some thought a gory life, while others found it abominable. At a great distance in the trees The Watchers had come. Among them was Atticus, a Hunter of the Sky Children. His golden eyes glinted in the morning light. The Watchers were Voyeurs, they had not come to honor the sacred rituals, they had come for the gore, the ugly, and witness what they called The Humiliation of Nisreen’s kind.

As for Nisreen, she turned her attention away from Atticus and the Watchers. They soon would lend the sounds of their delighted disgust to the grunts of Granny’s prayers. All members of Nisreen’s family surrounded the corpse in concentric circles, Granny began to grunt a hypnotic rhythm of sacred words. The sound worked its way in to the holes that were Nisreen’s ears. It crept softly into her mind. She felt the transformation in her mouth, her small teeth turned to a razor sharp beak, large black feathers replaced her fingers, hands and arms. Her body became compact and covered in a film of protective silk. The toes on her black feet sprouted talons. Her vision shifted to a soft blurry haze. Her mind focused, dedicated to the matter at hand. Nothing would distract her. Now was the time to feast.

While The Watchers shrieked in horror, or grunted with twisted pleasure, Nisreen’s family and her kind with sharp beaks and talons, took their turns according to family association to divided the remains. The soft portions were for the babes and elders. The planks of flesh for the young and growing and the brain was for Granny. Granny was the Keeper of good memories. All The Watchers saw was the gore, the blood, the carrion but this was not what Nisreen saw. She saw the bounty, the gift. She saw the relief in her relatives eyes because they would live another day, another week on this bounty.

Granny waved her feathers at Nisreen. It was Nisreen turn to receive from the body. With a bow and a silent prayer of gratitude, Nisreen dipped her head into the carcass. With care she took what was her portion, and only her portion. Carrion Eaters didn’t have the luxury of hunters. They couldn’t take a life, they had to wait until one was given. Full, she returned to her place and closed her eyes.

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The ripping of flesh and the chop of beaks continued for a while. Nisreen never watched. She kept her eyes tightly shut. Across her talons she felt the tickle of eager ants marching to gather tiny morsels to take back to their colonies. The flies were beginning to zoom in and out around her. They would plant their eggs in the remains. Nisreen knew it was important that her kind left very little for the flies. Flies were believed to be the carriers of contagion, as were the rats that were moving through the grass. In truth no one knew how the infections arrived or spread. This mystery had yet to be solved.

Granny hissed low and long. Nisreen opened her eyes.The body was decimated. What remained were bones with scraps of flesh on them. Bold rats, skittering wood mice, joined the crows who descended for the left overs. Gray squirrels dropped from the trees. Now hordes of multi colored ants began to march and the air filled with gnats and flies. Slow opossums moved forward.

Once again Granny began her rhythmic grunts. Their work was done. In unison the family raised their black iridescent wings, morning light fractured of the surface of their feathers. The sun was warm and welcoming. With a single push and leap Nisreen felt the tug of the air in her feathers. The sound of large beating wings filled the sky creating a large shadow on the ground and a draft of wind as they rose. Delight filled Nisreen’s body. Though she hated many aspects of her kind, this feathered flight was her most loved. If only she had real feathered wings all the time. Flight in her normal form, was quick, and more efficient, but this was magic, such magic. If she lived another life, after this one, as some believed, she hoped to come back as a sparrow. If she were a sparrow she wouldn’t consume disease, or rotting flesh. Her food would be seeds, grains, fruit and insects. The insect part didn’t sound so good, but each life had its pros and cons. Nisreen hissed to herself, Focus! Why spoil current joy with errant wishes?

Moving in concentric circles her family flew up to the thermals. They held their wings steady and let the thermal carry them. In tandem they moved toward Nisreen’s home. With a turn of her wings Granny lead the family back down to the earth. They landed in formation. The instant they touched earth they scattered.

On her taloned feet Nisreen ran toward the stream. It was her place of reverence and transformation. After the removal of disease, a time of cleansing was required. When she reached the stream the first thing she did was look at her reflection in the slow moving stream. Her feathers were blood soaked. Bits of entrails clung to her head. Her beak was stained with blood. She was a monster. Nisreen closed her eyes and began to slowly spin. The silk binding around her body dissolved. One by one her feathers disappeared, her talons retracted into her toes and then her beak retracted into teeth. A ray of warm sunlight swirled around her. The taste of death left her tongue. She sank down on the ground and wept.

After awhile, she began to hear the rustle of autumn leaves. The ache in her chest grew dull. Breathing became easier. On the trail she heard foot steps. She raised her head. It was Atticus.