The White City Read Online Free PDF Page B

He called Jolie’s name, but she did not rise. She was beyond being roused, he realized. She would need to rest longer to recover.
    But Sally was so close! He could almost reach her tonight if only …
    He came up from the river and gazed at B’hoy. They might reach her by horse in less than a day, but a crow could fly faster.
    Could I? Ray wondered.
    He had mastered the crow’s speech. He had learned to see from his eyes, to link with B’hoy’s thoughts over a short distance. Was he ready?
    B’hoy swooped down from the tree and landed in front of him momentarily before taking flight. Ray closed his eyes.
    He took slow, deep breaths until he calmed his mind. He felt the moonlight on his skin. The damp forest and the vast wilderness surrounding him. He felt the weight of the earth beneath his knees. As B’hoy hovered above him, the bird’s flapping wings became the only sound he could hear. His mind drew on all this and then went dark.
    The crow beat its wings against the still night air. Ray looked down. In the dark of the forest floor, he saw himself tranquil and kneeling among the underbrush and fallen leaves. The crow beat its wings. The night was dark. Black feathers against black sky.
    Ray looked down again. The forest floor was empty.
    The horse let out a shuddering snort as Ray beat his wings and rose higher, flapping through the branches of the cottonwoods. He ascended above the treetops. A great field of stars shone overhead. He saw the crow silhouetted against them. B’hoy squawked and swooped forward, drifting ahead on the breeze that blew above the creek bed.
    Ray stretched out his wings and followed.
    With B’hoy leading, Ray flew up from the tree-filled bottomlands to the ridgeline above. The shadow of the mountains, rimmed in mist, stood ghostly against night. Ray flew farther and farther, the hills drifting past below.
    Then he felt his fingers clutching at empty air. His arms were now heavy and long and no longer supporting him.
    B’hoy circled around, cawing ferociously. Ray felt feathersagain where his fingers had been. He flapped but was descending, as if an anchor had been tied to his waist. Waves of pain shot through his body. He tumbled. The wings returned. He drifted closer to the ground and then he felt the helplessness of his arms and legs kicking. Back and forth, he struggled between forms, feathers and flesh, spinning and toppling until he struck the earth.
    He gasped as he rolled over onto his stomach, with dust stinging his eyes. B’hoy was standing before him, blinking and cocking his head.
    Ray groaned, “No … I almost …”
    Sweat broke out over his body, and a cold chill shook him. His stomach knotted, and he struggled to rise to his elbows. He stood weakly, staggering a moment before recovering his balance.
    “Lead me back,” he whispered to B’hoy.
    Ray opened his eyes. Jolie was kneeling over a cookfire, pulling bundles of blackened leaves from the coals with a stick. Ray grunted and Jolie turned.
    “I thought I was exhausted,” she said, “but you have not stirred all day.”
    Ray sat up, stiff but glad that the sickening effects had left him. “I did it, Jolie,” he said. “I took crow form.”
    Jolie stared with astonishment as Ray recounted the events of the night. “… But I don’t know what happened. I just lost the connection.”
    “You are lucky to be alive,” Jolie said as she opened the bundles of burnt leaves to reveal steaming trout.
    They ate together, and Ray told B’hoy to go out and searchfor the steamcoach’s position. When they finished the meal and were down at the river filling their waterskins, Jolie said, “Ray. There is something I need to tell you.”
    “What is it?” He felt suddenly anxious, but he wasn’t sure why.
    She took a deep breath and met his gaze. “Yesterday. In the river—”
    “I’m sorry,” he said quickly. “I shouldn’t have gone on like that. I was just glad you were alive.”
    “I know.” She gave