The birds came at six fifteen.
I knew this because I was awake before six. Watching from the east wing window with my tea when they emerged from the northern tree line in the particular loose formation they always flew in, not a tight flock, more like a group of individuals who had agreed on a general direction and were executing it at their own pace.
Below the window, at the edge of the grounds where the grass met the stone path, Damon was crouched beside Eli.
Eli was in his coat and boots, which meant Damon had either helped him or Eli had managed it himself in the dark with the stubborn independence he applied to things he wanted badly enough. Damon had one hand on Eli's shoulder, not directing him, just there, and was pointing toward the tree line with the other.
Eli found the bird
