Leila steadied herself and pushed forward with Sarika as Landon walked back up to lead the group down the trail. The path pushed on through some lazy, low-hanging trees and brambles that shoved their way into the legs of passersby, until it opened up on a ramshackle bundle of small, cabin-like buildings. All that remained of the B.E.A.C. group was Sarika, Leila, and Leila’s two possible-new-friends Mikey and Britt. Leila shrugged at the small group. The dozen or so members who’d been milling around the parking lot earlier either went off with Shawn or had split off during all the drama.
Landon stopped the group in front of a large, barn-like building that stood taller than the rest of the smaller shed-like structures. He turned around to face everyone, hands on his hips, a smile on his face.
“Welcome to Philadelphia’s branch of the Raptor Trust,” he said with a proud smile. He turned to look at the buildings. “The original Trust was founded in Millington, New Jersey, and this branch opened a few years ago.” Leila pulled out her phone and began taking notes while Landon went on. “Feel free to explore the grounds. We’ve got a few hawks and kestrels, a couple of owls here and there. Some are in the middle of rehabilitation, others are un-releasable, and we care for them here thanks to our staff of volunteers. We work with different institutions in the city to educate people about them as much as possible.”
“Staff?” Sarika asked. Everyone turned and looked at her.
“Sarika,” Leila said, giving her a look.
“What?” Sarika asked. “There’s like, no one here.”
“Well, there’s one other caretaker here today,” Landon continued sadly. “But you’re right, staff is light. We’re likely to be closed down in the coming months if funding doesn’t go through, as the Fairmount Park system makes room for renovations and new construction. This site is poised to go. Rumor has it there will be a greenhouse or something. And then there’s the old Thomas Mansion, the gardens, and groves. It kind of sucks, all that history with no place in the future. People just don’t care.”
Leila.
Leila winced, moving her hand up to the pressure in her forehead. Sarika grabbed her arm and pulled her close.
He can help me. He can help us.
The voices. So much for the break, the distraction. Here they were, and they were being direct again, whispering on the wind, pushing against the inside of her head.
Come.
Leila shook her head, the pain rattling against her skull.
Come to the mansion. Come to me.
“Road. Path. Bushes. Grass,” Leila muttered. Sarika looked at her, and Leila returned the glance, her eyes wide, hoping she’d understand in the way that best friends do what was going on without her having to say anything. Sarika nodded. Of course she did.
“But, we’ll see!” Landon perked up. “Might save this place, might save the mansion and the grounds. Maybe someone cares. So go on, explore, and meet back here in, say, an hour or so? I’m pretty sure I can set up a showing of some of the raptors while you all look around.”
The students dispersed, but Sarika stayed by Leila’s side as they started to walk towards one of the big cages. They kicked up dirt and pebbles as they walked together; the area surrounding the Trust was a bit unkempt. Inside, a bronze-colored, large bird sat on a high perch, with an enormous branch twisting and turning its way up inside the cage. It looked like a huge piece of driftwood, plucked from the ocean and hammered into the ground, sticking up in the air, with holes throughout the trunk.
“That’s Liberty, our golden eagle,” Landon said, walking up behind Leila and Sarika. The little owl was still on his shoulder, eyes darting about curiously. “You know, because he’s bronze and rusty, kinda like the Liberty Bell, but not really. Tourists get a kick out of it, though.”
“What’s his story?” Leila asked.
“Well,” Landon began as he moved next to her. He glanced at her from the side, peering over the owl on his shoulder. The thin black beard on his face, shaved so close to his cheeks, chin, and upper lip, brought out the white of his teeth. “Someone was trying to keep her as a pet, and they ended up cutting the tips of her wings too short. Wing clipping, they call it. Sometimes people do that with small birds like parakeets, parrots, or lovebirds.
“It’s better than pinioning, at least, where they remove the wing joint. This way they just can’t fly away for a while, as opposed to leaving them grounded forever.” He looked up at the eagle, and his eyes seemed to light up when he talked about the bird.
“Unfortunately, whoever did the work on her cut way too much. We had to bandage them up when they dropped her off here. One had gotten a little infected. She’ll never fly again.” He sighed heavily.
“You can’t keep a creature like this as a pet,” he continued, his eyes wide and sad.
“Aren’t you kinda doing that, though?” Sarika asked.
“This is different. We’re keeping her safe,” Landon said, looking back at Sarika and Leila with noticeable irritation before he focused his attention back on the eagle. “Before they clipped her wings, the person was trying to use her like a falcon. You know, for sport and all that, training them to hunt. You can’t really do that with eagles. I mean, you can. People in the Middle East do that, nomadic people. It’s a symbiotic existence. But here? As a pet and a hobby, out in the suburbs of Philadelphia?”
He stared at the eagle for a while, a beat of silence passing between him, Sarika, and Leila, and then turned back to them.
“Hey, so, I don’t think I got your name?” He nodded, looking past the little owl again, who continued to look about before finally focusing on Sarika.
“Sarika,” she said, reaching a hand past Leila.
“Great to meet you,” he said, shaking her hand. He looked at Leila and then back at Sarika. “And it’s Leila, yes? Can I, um, can I talk to you for a moment? Alone?”
Leila looked over at Sarika, who raised her eyebrows, giving her a thoughtful look. She knew that look. It asked if she was going to be okay, despite what had just happened.
Leila gave her a quick nod, and Sarika smiled back at Landon.
“Well, I'm going to go look at . . . some birds . . . or something,” Sarika said. She gave Leila’s hand a reassuring squeeze and strolled off, turning behind the building.
“So,” Leila said, her heart quickening.
“So.” Landon nodded and then exhaled. “Look, I, um, I would like to apologize.”
“Oh?”
“Yeah, listen.” Landon looked around, the little owl swaying with him as he did so, and then he turned to Leila, speaking in a soft voice. “I’m not supposed to be out, well, trying to fly Milford out here. Or, um, anywhere, really.” He scratched the back of the owl’s head and sighed. “What you saw the other day . . . I wanted to run over and help you, but by the time I wrangled Milford up here and he’d calmed down enough for me to move anywhere, your boyfriend—”
“Ha!” Leila interrupted.
“Okay, so your friend from this club of yours,” Landon continued, shrugging. “It seemed pretty under control and all, with a couple of people huddled around you, and the ambulance down the block. It doesn’t excuse me just standing on the sidelines like that, I know, but—”
“So, essentially you chose the owl over a human?” Leila interrupted, arching an eyebrow and crossing her arms.
“Uh, well,” Landon squirmed, all that confidence just falling off him. “When you put it that way, I guess I did. I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay. I think I get it,” Leila said, nodding.
“Thanks,” Landon said, rubbing at the back of his neck. Leila stood there in awkward silence with him for a moment, looking from him to Milford to the eagle in the cage. The sounds of the remaining members of B.E.A.C. wandering the Trust filtered in, soft voices muttering from not too far off.
“So, is this the part where you tell me his real story?” Leila asked, looking back at Milford.
“Story?”