Chapter 10: Questions

"So what was the purpose of the bands?"

Marina was roosting with Cassiel and Socrates, the latter of which had been tirelessly answering their questions for the past few hours. Socrates seemed to understand everything about the Humans, and his responses were very clear and patient. Marina was beginning to hope that he would come with them if they ever escaped—it was as though Frieda and Zephyr had been combined into a single, much younger bat.

"The bands seem to vary in specific purpose, but they do have one thing in common: identification. If the Humans capture a bat, they place a band of some sort on his or her arm. This band, as the two of you can see, is engraved with Human markings. Each band has a different combination of markings that allow the Humans to tell one bat from another."

"And why would the Humans want to do that?" Cassiel prompted.

"Some Humans, like the ones at the research facility, use the bands to directly track a bat's movement. They have machines that can somehow lead them to whichever bat they choose. Don't worry though," he added, seeing the look on Marina's face, "yours do not serve that purpose. In your case, the Humans are again demonstrating their keen interest in us bats. By capturing bats during the migration process—specifically ones that have been banded already—they can estimate the routes we take and the distances we travel. These things seem to be of extreme interest to them."

"But why do they care?" Marina asked. "How does it affect them?"

Socrates hesitated. Marina had quickly learned that she could always tell how certain he was of his answer based on how long it took him to respond.

"That is, unfortunately, still a mystery. I doubt we will ever know the Humans entirely. But I have a theory."

"And?" His theories always had a convincing ring to them.

"It seems to me that Humans both suffer and benefit from an unnaturally strong, curious nature. They have no predators to worry about, no migrations to prepare…in all, they are in no real danger—they, themselves, are their one and only enemy. It seems that the Humans, unlike most of us, seek answers to questions simply for enjoyment, for the pleasure of knowing. It gives their lives purpose."

Marina found herself nodding. Socrates's explanation made perfect sense. True, it was somewhat anticlimactic—no war, no Nocturna, no exciting transformation, no blind faith. It was plain, and boring, and logical; she could see no reason to doubt it. Marina felt herself smile a bit: Shade would've been so disappointed.

"It's very nice of you to answer all of our questions," Cassiel said appreciatively. "But there's still something that's been bothering me."

"Go on," Socrates encouraged. "It is a welcome change to be in the company of bats that share my curiosity."

Cassiel tilted his head, "How did you come to be a Brightwing elder in a Silverwing colony?"

Marina stared at Socrates intently, for this was a question that she had been meaning to ask for quite some time. However, she had forced herself to suppress it, fearing that it would be rude to pry into his past. How long will it take him to answer? she wondered. Will he answer at all?

Socrates swallowed and his eyes fell to his claws. "It's a long story, really."

Marina noticed that his smile seemed to fade as he thought carefully about his response. What was he about to say? She was beginning to wonder if she really wanted to know.

"As I'm sure you can imagine," he began, glancing at Marina, "The Brightwing colonies have a horrible reputation of being intolerant. Whenever someone is different, they become paranoid, and they remedy the problem by any means necessary. With you it was your band, with me it was my interest in the Humans. I studied them frequently, getting far closer than the elders advised. I was constantly warned away from them. I was told that I would be captured, tortured, and killed. But my curiosity got the better of me, and I began to see that the Humans posed no real threat." Catching the dubious expression on Marina's face, he added: "Well, not the ones I had been observing anyway. I said as much when I returned, but my colony was not interested. None of them had the slightest bit of curiosity in them. Then, when elders caught wind of the 'rumors' I was spreading, they weren't happy. I was driven out."

Marina nodded sympathetically. She knew what it was like to be shunned by your own colony. She knew what it was like to be forced to leave your family, to feel as though you didn't have a friend in the world. Until she had met Shade, she was certain that she was doomed to just die alone one cold winter night. She tried to say something to comfort him, but Socrates's story was not finished yet.

"I flew alone for many nights, distancing myself from everyone I had ever known. It was very difficult for me: I had to leave my parents, my friends, and my mate-to-be. I was beginning to think that I would live out the rest of my life in solitude when I came across the Silverwings over there." With his claw, he pointed to the tall spruce tree where a number of silver-furred bats hung, sleeping. "They took me in and gave me a home. They were caring, and sympathetic, and never questioned me about my past life. That would have been enough for me, but unfortunately it was not meant to last."

Socrates's face became pained and Marina felt a shiver of premonition as he continued:

"We were attacked by owls one night. It wasn't law enforcement or self-defense, or any other so-called 'valid' excuse: these owls were all alone—just a few friends that thought it would be fun to attack a small group of innocent bats. After all, who's going to miss a few nameless Silverwings? Their assault was brutal. They weren't even concerned with eating us; they were just having a laugh."

Marina felt her stomach clench, her own mind reciprocating the fear that must have gripped the poor bats. Her parents had told her stories, so long ago, of rogue owls that attacked traveling bat colonies in the dead of night, just for fun. Until now, she had never been sure whether to believe them, but looking into Socrates's sorrow-stricken eyes, she knew that this was no simple myth; and it didn't end there.

"It was chaos. We were being slaughtered. Within seconds, nearly half of our number lay limp on the ground, and still the owls showed no signs of backing off. All around me, bats were circling in confusion—they didn't want to be attacked themselves, but they were afraid to leave their loved ones behind. The elders had been flying at the front of the colony, and had been among the first victims, leaving those who were still alive panicked and disorganized. So I made a decision. I took charge, ordering anyone still circling to split up and head into the trees. The owls were unable to follow, and chose to settle down on the ground and pick at the less fortunate ones instead. I can only assume that they must have eaten them one-by-one, because I was already trying to lead the survivors further away. We had suffered severe losses, and everyone was looking for someone turn to, someone to trust with their safety. So they made me chief elder."

He paused for a moment and sighed. "I wish they hadn't."

"But you saved half of the colony!" Marina exclaimed in disbelief.

"That's not such a comforting thought. I saved half, but only after losing half."

"It wasn't your fault," Cassiel reassured him, "You took charge when no one else would, and I'm sure that every one of the bats in that tree over there is grateful to you."

"He's right," Marina agreed, "What else could you have done?"

"Believe me," Socrates answered, "I've asked myself that question countless times."

The three of them roosted in awkward silence, thoroughly depressed. Marina hadn't expected such a dramatic story from Socrates—he had never shown any signs of weakness or trauma. He was always kind, and patient, and helpful, and it made her a little uneasy to see him so undone. She spoke up, hoping to comfort him:

"Look, you've got nothing to feel guilty about. I mean, Shade got his colony's entire roost burned down!"

"Our colony's roost," Cassiel corrected, and Marina felt her spirits lift a little. "And he nearly got us all killed when he led that group to the research building."

Socrates gave a short chuckle. Encouraged, Marina continued:

"He has a talent for getting himself into trouble," she said. "And always manages drag us along with him."

"Sounds exciting." Socrates raised an eyebrow, his usual smile creeping back onto his face. "It seems I never stood much chance with you, Marina. How am I supposed to compete with such a courageous bat?"

Suddenly, he was himself again, and Marina and Cassiel joked and laughed along with him. They told more stories, and asked more questions, but beneath it all Marina found herself worrying that she would never get to have more adventures again—that she would be stuck here forever.

She squinted slightly as the light from the ceiling became more intense. Usually, the glass window dimmed the sun slightly—just enough that the light was bearable. But now her eyes were burning as though she were back outside, in its full glare. She sent echoes towards the ceiling and noticed that one of the panes of the skylight seemed to be ajar. A silver blur streaked through the opening and began circling around the forest, calling out.

"Cassiel! Marina! Are you here?"