Kira and the Winged One |Lesbian Story|

4.

India was a new member of our bird-watching expedition. The next morning, I learned later that she had just moved to the island, too, and both her parents worked from home. Mr. Shirokani was telling us as usual how wonderful Mother Nature was, flowers here and a tree there at a bend at the creek where they could swim in. I saw her further along the shore.

Far away from the camp, she was sitting on a shady cypress while we gathered around a campfire. I was sitting under a poplar tree, watching her. Mr. Shirokani went on with his enthusiastic talk. Unlike the others, she didn't join the group, sitting leisurely on the tree's sturdy branch. She had a book on her lap and a pencil in one hand. She kept glancing up to the sky.

"Wonder who that is," Mikail, one of the boys from my class said. "She's cute."

"She's called India," Yulia said.

"India after the country?"

"Something like that."

The girl must have heard us talking about her but she didn't move. When Mr. Shirokani called in a break, everyone dispersed to find their own amusements around the lake. I could have slipped out of the group to the cave, instead, I went up to the new girl.

"What are you doing up there?" I said.

She clicked her tongue. It must be her dominant habit.

"Damn you," she said. "You spooked it away."

"Spooked what away?"

"The Bluejay."

She put the book aside and stabbed the pencil into her messy bun. She swung over the branch and dropped into the ground. She stood looking at me. She was shorter and had hair as black as midnight and the kind of eyes that made you want to check your own face in the mirror.

"Never mind," she said. "It'll come again."

She pointed up to the rooftop. The Bluejay was up there, tipping its blue tail back and forth and chirping.

"That's its song," she said. "It's telling its family there's danger near. Danger. That's you."

I frowned, feeling offended.

"So you speak fluent birds?" I said. India gave me a look then pointed up into the tree.

"If you climb up to where I was and look along that branch there, you'll see its nest. There are three tiny hatchlings. But don't you dare go anywhere near them."

She turned to me again and stared at me with hooded eyes.

"Where do you live?"

"Aleksandrovsk-Sakhalinsky,"

"Oh, same," India said. "I live in Block Seven."

"That's where I live, too!"

"Are you the family with a sick baby?" she asked straightforwardly. I was taken aback.

"Yes," I answered sharply. I didn't really want to talk about it with a stranger, but something about the girl drew it out of me.

"What's his name?" India continued to ask

"We haven't decided yet." I didn't know why I kept answering her questions. It was none of her business anyway. India clicked her tongue again and rolled her eyes toward the sky.

She opened her book.

"Have a look at this," she said. I peered at the yellowish pages. It was full of birds. Beautifully detailed pencil drawings, lots of them colored in blues and greens and reds. I was immensely impressed.

"This is the Bluejay," she said. "They're common, but nevertheless very beautiful. A sparrow. And these are tits."

"Excuse me?" I squeaked. India looked like she wanted to stab me with her pencil.

"They're a family of small passerine birds, usually spotted in Africa, where we used to live," she said. "And lovely chaffinches. And this is the goldfinch that I saw a few days ago."

India showed me the goldfinch, the greens and reds and bright yellows in it.

"My favorite," she said and slapped the book shut again.

"You must like birds then," I said, and she looked at me like something I'd said made her question my IQ.

"Don't you?" she said. "Isn't it why you are here?"

I shrugged one shoulder. It wasn't exactly my sole reason to be here, but I didn't say that.

"I guess," I said.

"Typical," India sighed. "Do you like drawings?"

"Sometimes."

"Drawing makes you look at the world more closely. It helps you appreciate what you're looking at. Did you know that?"

I said nothing. India stared at me for another long weird moment.

"What color is a Bluejay?" she suddenly asked. I had no idea what warranted me this pop quiz.

"Blue."

"Ha, wrong!" she turned on her heels and walked off. "I look forward to seeing you again. I hope the baby will get well soon."

I stood there, blinking for a moment longer as my mind tried to wrap itself around what had just happened.

~*~

I tried to stay awake that night, but it was hopeless. I was dreaming straight away. I dreamed that the cave girl was in the Bluejay's nest. The Bluejay fed her on earthworms and spiders and she got stronger and stronger until she sprouted wings and flew out of the tree and over the lake towards India. She sat on the cypress drawing her. When I went closer to them, India hissed,

"Stay away. She's mine!"

I woke up and turned to look over my shoulder. India was sleeping soundly on the other side of the tent. The night birds were singing outside. When the campfire went out and I was sure everyone was asleep, I pulled some clothes on, crept out of the tent, got my flashlight, and tiptoed through the camp. I took a jar of cheese, crackers, and blueberries, the snack I had with me for the trip, then headed towards the cave.

"You must be crazy," I told myself. When I passed the cypress tree, I looked up at the bluejay's nest and caught a glimpse of the bird. I saw the sheens of blue feathers where the moonlight shined on its back. It is supposed to be blue, isn't it? I thought.

At the mouth of the cave, I took a deep breath and stepped inside. The scuttling and scratching started again. Something skittered across my food and I nearly dropped the flashlight. I came to the boulder and shined the light behind.

"You again?" she squeaked. "Thought you had gone away."

"I've brought you something," I said as calmly as I could.

She opened her eyes and looked at me. I showed her the jar of cheese and berries. If she didn't recognize the cheese, then at least she recognized the berries.

After a long silent moment, she reached for the jar and I handed it across the gap between us, but her hand started to wobble and I had to take it back again.

"No strength," she murmured.

"You mind I get in?" I whispered. She didn't say anything, so I took it as a yes.

I squeezed and slid down the rock. I squatted down beside her. I held the open jar and shined the light onto the food. She dipped her dirty fingers in and grabbed a handful of cheese and berries. She shoved everything into her mouth, bits and pieces dropped onto her hair. The purple juice trickled down her lips, down over her chin.

She took another handful and enjoyed it.

"Have some warm tea," I said and poured the tea from my thermo bottle. "How long did you go without food?"

"Don't know." She drank the tea and belched. Then she dropped back. Her head slumped against the wall again.

"Food of the gods," she whispered.

I put everything away and shined the light on her. There was the earthy smell mixed with the night fragrant breeze. She opened her eyes.

"Where you from?" I asked.

"Nowhere."

"Have you always been here?"

"No."

"Then you must be from somewhere."

"Nowhere. Nowhere."

"Alright, alright," I said. "But you can't possibly stay here forever. People are going to find you here."

"Don't let them come." She turned her sharp eyes to me.

"But I can't guarantee that," I said.

"Don't let them see me," she said again, but this time, her voice was softer. I sat there, staring back at her. She was pale as the moon, her eyes almost seemed luminous. There was nothing I could do.

I nodded.