A.N: If you are reading this it means I finally finished the next chapter. This also means I am creatively drained for a few days. I've never written so much in such a short amount of time and I don't want to get sloppy so I may have to plan the next chapter out a little bit. I want to thank everyone who is following this story, adding it to their favorites and reviewing. I no idea why you are still reading this because frankly, I don't think it's that good yet, but I love your support regardless.

Also, feel free to ask questions about anything that you notice. Maya asked if Godric was 13. Yes, for now he is. I wanted him to have a certain innocence and weakness about him. For me, I always thought of him as an abuse victim before he is turned. Even then he is still at the mercy of his Maker. In addition, I wanted him to like Nix, but not lust her yet. However, I am realizing Godric may need to have impromptu birthdays soon to keep the story moving. Keep this in mind if he magically turns 15 or there is a time jump.

One last side note, would it be easier for you if I capitalized "He/Him/His" when referencing Godric's maker? Let me know and I'll change it.

***All of my bird information came from The Cornell Lab of Ornithology All about Birds website. They were extremely helpful and really interesting if you want to know more about feather structures or birds in general.****

I only own Fredrick and Nix. No True Blood or Godric for me.

Enjoy

Chapter 4

I go back to her tree early the next morning finishing my chores in record time that even Fredrick is impressed. I risked getting up before the sun rose to start on them. Whenever I heard him coming I'd hide in the pantry with the strong herbs and spices waiting for his footsteps to fade before continuing. When Fredrick came into the kitchen I was grabbing supplies for my day stuffing them into my bag already dressed. He yawns stretching and twisting his back. I heard him popping his neck a sickening sound that always makes me cringe.

"There is no possible way that is pleasant feeling" I mutter shaking my head.

"Where are you off to?" he says groggily looking around taking in the freshly swept floor, clean dishes and breakfast in front of him. "Did you do all of this already?" He motions to the room in wonder.

I nod "I am going to try to –"

"See your lady friend?" he interrupts pulling his bread apart lazily smirking at me.

I rub bridge of my nose squinting as I do so

"You are never going to let this go are you?" I mutter exasperated by his knowing smirks and jeers.

He tries to suppress a grin failing terribly

"Nah, it is much more entertaining to harass you about it." I roll my eyes

"Goodbye Fredrick, I will see you before nightfall" I announce ending the conversation walking out the door, but not before hearing

"Make sure to steal a kiss for me!" and Fredrick laughing light heartedly.

…..

I pray she is there as I approach the tree seeing my blanket and sheet have been moved. I had already decided I wouldn't do anything to scare her away this time. I sit on the rock drawing pictures in the snow with a stick. I start swirling lines together in the shape of a basket or nest then add branches and a trunk. The image takes form of the tree in front of me. I glance up every one and then to look for defining features of the tree and notice a feather fluttering down landing feet from me. I rise to examine it picking the thick thing up by the calamus. It was long and whimsical, like nothing I'd ever seen, the colors of gold, burgundy gracing the top and deep sapphire towards the lower shaft coming together resembling a flame. I note the way it has longer pieces that hang from the eye in a lacey fashion. It was the most amazing feather I had since and I was at a loss of what bird it could be from never seeing a feather with so many colors and this vibrant. I take it between my fingers captivated by the silky texture; it seemed more like a decorative quill then a device for flying. I look at the nest remembering how I thought she had been in there the first time we met. Was she an angel sent from the heavens? I bear in mind how her kisses cured my bruises, though it could not explain the fire she produced from her fingertips. Is she a demon? I look at the fiery feather, surely not I assure myself. Why would she help me if she was an evil spirit? If anything she would let my bruises stay or exacerbate them. Whatever she was, she wasn't showing up today. The sun fades to the west telling me it is almost time leave. I lay out the newest supplies for her. Three simple dresses, all black with long sleeves. I also found an ancient pair of brown leather boots that lace up to ones shins near what I guessed would be her size.

Each item came from the dark room at the end of his hall two doors down from his. It was a dim room which gave you a sense of dread whilst you approach the heavy wood door. In spite of the eerie aura around the door nothing was different. It hand the same iron latch that catches every now and then, the same creak near every door had in the passageway, and the same sap colored finish covering over the rough surface of the wood. The door drags as you enter the cramped room. It is unadorned with only two large trunks and a wardrobe against the right wall. He told all the slaves if we ever needed new attire or shoes we were to find it in there. The single munificent act we received from him. The trunks were full of leather shoes both for men and women of all sizes. Each a different style varying on how worn they appeared. In the wardrobe you are bombarded with dresses, corsets, shirts pants, jackets and everything in between. Some of the garments were exquisite, particularly the women's gowns. Most of the maids never wore them, but kept one in their belongings. Gracelynn's was pink and gold with mint green leafs around the bodice. She wore it on our birthdays or if she went to town. Her flaxen hair shimmering as it reflected off the shinny material. I know Fredrick still keeps it in his trunk for I caught him clutching it to his chest, inhaling her scent tears welling up in his eyes.

The men's jackets were fine as well, though Fredrick and I went for the warmer more durable ones instead of formal choices covered in embroidery and tassels. The room was dreary and lifeless; regardless it became one of the servant's favorite rooms. We never questioned where the clothes came from, we were just thankful.

I glance trying to spot her before I headed back home. I twirl the feather between my fingers looking around one last time giving up and walking back home defeated, but not empty handed. I place the feather in my bag on top of everything else so it would not be damaged.

….

Fredrick is in the hen house collecting eggs to sell when I enter. His face focused checking each egg above a candle, seeing which had chicks and which did not. He gives me a quick nod and continues. I walk to the stables making sure the horses had water and a sufficient amount of food. I stroke each ones mane and ask if they had good days -a silly habit, but one I did every night- they whinny in response. Checking inside the hut I see Fredrick kept everything tidy and untouched, I decide to sweep once more for good measures. I ponder the feather curiosity gnawing away in my mind. There was no bird with these colors that I knew of, and why would it be so bright in the winter? Surely that would make it easier prey? Fredrick breaks my thoughts as he enters wiping his dirt incrusted hands on his pants.

"I was going to bathe before he comes would you care to join me?" I twinge a little remembering my last bath experience knowing Fredrick refuses to let it happen again.

I agree and we head down to the bath house glancing at the sky every now and then making sure we had enough time.

"Did you see your friend today?" Fredrick says nudging me as he pours water into two basins testing the waters temperature.

"No, but I did find this" I pull the feather from my bag holding it out to him.

He takes it from my hands in the same awe I had when I first laid sight on it.

"Where did you find this?" he whispers wonderstruck by its beauty, I see him glide the back of his hand on it feeling its silkiness.

"On the ground, have you ever seen such a bird?" my voice seeping with inquisitiveness watching his expressions.

He studies its weigh and brushes it downward checking how much air passes through it.

"I've never seen such a bird, but this feather did not come from a wing. It is not contour or one of the bird's remige,"

he comes beside me showing the inner vane

"see these barbs are not close together like most contour feather."

He sees the confusion on my face "Um, the feathers that make the bird fly" he checks for my understanding, I nod as he places a thumb pushing against the barbs

"the barb's barbules are long, yet do not merge with the hooklets."

I lift and eyebrow lost again

"The hooklets tie the barbules together making it whole, thus allowing the bird to fly. This almost looks like a tail feather or perhaps a down one."

He seems engrossed by its length and color. I smile amazed by his knowledge. Fredrick was the only slave we had that could read well so if he had a spare moment his nose was always in one of the books around the quarters. He taught me last year, but I still struggled every now and then.

"I will search through our books tonight and see if I can find out more about it." He declares handing it back to me.

I smile excited by the prospect of learning what the feather could be from. We continue idle chit chat washing quickly. Fredrick checks to see if all my welts were healing properly before spreading more of the harsh smelling medicine over it. The stuff burns like fire, but I determined I should save the root she gave me for emergencies only.

….

That night he did not come for either of us, we spent the entire time searching through every book we could locate for any information regarding the feather, but nothing came through. This bothered Fredrick to no end

"How can it not be here?" He laments flipping throughout pages putting his head in his palms.

I yawn desperate to stay awake pulling another book from the shelf and starting the laborious task of searching through it for any details.

"Books have all the answers! Where could it possibly be? We've checked every single one with birds" He protest tossing yet another book aside, realizing I was having the same results as him I toss mine in the ever growing pile as well.

"Perhaps, it's a new kind?" I suggest stretching starting to put the books back on the shelf.

He joins me nodding still frustrated by the lack of answers. I rub my temples in effort to ease my headache caused by exhaustion both mentally and physically. We place the last book away heading to bed knowing we will regret this night in the morning. I glance towards the window reckoning we would get around three hours of sleep. I put on a night shirt and place the feather under my pillow before lying down and falling asleep dreaming of it snowing feathers around her tree.

The next few days are spent the same awakening up before sunrise, cleaning everything scrupulously, and running to her tree. She did not come the first four days, but I always left her something. Be it food, water, or even a small bit of thread and sewing needle. The one I found was rusted, but worked fine when I tried it out. The only things that seemed to stay were the dresses. They remained in the crook of the tree where I left them, untouched by anything. I feared they were too small, but with further investigation they seemed like they would fit her perfectly. I wondered what could be wrong with them to make her avoid them so.

I do not see her until the fifth day; I had just placed a forest green velvet cloak on a tree branch when she advanced to me. She had the leather boots on and seemed to have fashioned a new dress from the old sheet I gave her. I noticed fresh blood on her dress and turned my attention to what was in her hands. She was carrying three dead rabbits that soiled the white ground with drops of blood. Her hands were stained a shade of scarlet red. She drops them beside the rock eyeing the cloak with displeasure. She walks pass me and begins climbing her tree, I see the way she ascends with ease and see her defined muscles as she pulls herself into the nest getting a bundle of something descending from the tree with ease. She stalks up to me and pushing the bag into my arms. I open it and see all my gifts placed inside. I look up hurt seeing her pointing to the dresses.

"I want you to have these, they are gifts." I respond.

She smiles nodding, but refuses them when I try to give them back to her. She points again to the dresses shaking her head.

"You must take them, otherwise you will freeze." I reply weakly not moving.

She scowls, shaking her head more intensely taking a step back from them looking almost afraid.

"What makes you fear them so?" I question taking one in my hand trying to understand.

She looks at them in my hand and seems to relax a bit inching closer. I watch as she touches it hesitantly waiting for something bad to happen. She runs her hand over it timidly with a look of distress, jerking her hand back she goes back to the rabbits kneeling in front of them.

She cuts into a large white one's back thighs with her large knife placing her fingers inside the flesh. I turn my head when she begins starts to pull the skin back. It is an act I've seen thousands of times and I've performed, but seeing her elegant hands execute the brutal task makes me wince, feeling sympathy towards the rabbit. I hear a sickening chop and turn back knowing the head is gone. She hangs the skin on a tree branch and ties the decapitated hare letting it dangle lifelessly, placing the blade on its chest carving down its cavity stopping at the stomach. Foul bile rises to my throat causing me to vomit involuntarily when its entrails spill out. She turns at the sound of my retching looking concerned. I use the tree trunk for support hearing her move behind me. I wipe my mouth with sleeve coughing faintly. When I turn she smiles apologetically, the rabbits are gone and any sign of the butchering has vanished. She tilts her head down with an expression of fret at my shaken state. Reaching out to pet me, my eyes widen at her hands still smothered in blood. She become aware of my reaction and quickly hides her hands behind her grabbing a rag from the rock wiping her hands roughly. She shows them off as if saying

"All gone, please don't be sick again" she nods questioningly,

"I'm fine" I confirm. Thus began our friendship.