Disclaimer: Tamora Pierce is awesome. We all know that.
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The Hawk
The hawk was confused. He was dizzy and nauseous and all he knew was that he had to get away. He had to get away and the stormwings were after him and, oh gods his head hurt. But more importantly he had to get away, even though he could hardly fly straight. And he was so weak. He just kept going; he had to get away from these creatures. They would kill him. And the horizon wasn't staying put.
Suddenly a loud whistle pierced his thoughts. It cleared his mind and he saw the eight metal monsters look for its source. In that moment the hawk dove into the swampland. He could loose himself in the trees and underbrush. He had to get away.
Once on the ground, the large black bird allowed himself to pause and get his breath while looking for a place to hide. These creatures were smart and would not give up easily. Thick underbrush and reeds looked tempting, but he knew he had to be farther from he place he had dropped if he could hope to elude them. Quickly the hawk found a hollow log and hid. He didn't know how long, but he was still shaking. He was sure they had flown over him at least twice. He tried to even breath quietly. If they found him, there was nothing he could do. He wouldn't be able to get back into the air and away fast enough.
So he waited. Time passed, it seemed to be awhile since he had heard anything. But he wouldn't come out for the world. He had to get away. He didn't trust anything. And he was still so nauseous. He didn't even know how he had gotten here. But he had to hide.
Until there was a girl. She was so calm. He waddled out of the log into the warm sunlight. She picked him up and it felt safe to be in her arms. The hawk was hardly sure of anything anymore, but from the warmth and caring this girl exuded, he implicitly trusted her. Her voice was soothing. He didn't understand what she was saying, but it was gentle and comforting. He cried out when she started playing with his wing. But she seemed to be fashioning some sort of splint, and he trusted her so much.
After that he just seemed to be waiting. The girl talked to him and took him somewhere. There was another woman too. He definitely he knew her; he just could not remember the word that was her name. They seemed to move around a lot. He was always in a half dreaming state and he felt trapped. At one point, he realized that days must have passed, but he was still so sick that he could not be sure. He remained so queasy that food only made it worse, but the honey water was good. And he was always cold. Before long a fever set in and the large bird really did not know what was going on.
Then she was calling to him again. But this time she was a hawk, a kindred spirit, and he understood her.
"Arram," the hawk-girl called. "Come on. You're too far off. It's alright. Arram, it's safe. You have to come closer."
Suddenly it all made sense. He was Arram. He was too far off. He had to get closer to her. It was vitally important and he strained towards her comforting presence as much as he could. He was getting closer, he could feel it and he felt safer every moment. Until all of a sudden—
-Pop-
Numair was a man again. He was tired, and hungry. But he was okay now. He could finally rest. Alanna was there, so it would be okay. He needed some sleep. He would find out about this fascinating hawk-girl later. She would be there for him when he awoke, he knew.