When my eyes finally had the strength to open, I found myself in my bed, wrapped in what seemed like hundreds of blankets. My head was pounding again, something I seemed to never be free of. Aside from my head, my entire body felt stiff. Twisting my head to look at my guard was a chore I nearly couldn't manage. The serpiente guard's shoulders dropped in relief, as he scuttled away- most likely to tell my parents. Within moments, Mother and Father were at their knees beside me, both their faces lined with worry.

"Pop…" I tried to grin, not really sure if it came out or not, "You have a gray hair…" He looked mortified as his hand reflexively touched his hair. Then, he caught my joke and turned to Mother, "He's fine. Make him do chores."

She put a retraining hand on his arm before turning to me, "How do you feel?"

"Stiff."

"You'll feel that way for a few more days," she said, rubbing swear-slicked hair back from my forehead.

"I'm cold," I suddenly realized, despite all the covering on me that I was indeed shivering.

"You have a fever, babe," Mother leaned close, her eyes alight with sympathy and worry. "You just need rest." Her eyes flicked behind my line of vision, and then quickly back to me. "That bird… the one you had with you? He's here, in the cage over there," she pointed, and I struggled up to see, despite her protests. The beast was restrained in a cage of metal, squeaking indignantly. His wing had been healed, I could see. I flopped back onto the pillows. Father moved closer, saying, "We think he can become human, but it he is like you, have may have forgotten or merely can't." His eyes glittered, "If he is like you, then you aren't alone."

This was the last thought I had before I slept again.

…*…

Upon awaking, a scratching noise first reached my ears. Literally.

"Ow!" I jerked up, clutching my ear. The black bird squeaked as my movement tossed him fluttering to the floor. He had scratched me! I glared at the hawk as he raced around the floor of my room. "You," I growled, clambering from my bed. My legs, not strong enough to hold me yet, folded under me, but I had expected that. I crawled along after the bird, making futile grabs at it when I felt it was close enough, yet he always managed to slip away. Finally, I stopped and leaned against the wall. I was exhausted, and couldn't even get up to get back to my bed. I was panting as if I had run at least five miles. Tipping my head back, I let my bare chest rise and fall spasmodically.

Warmth near my hand caught my attention, and it turned out to be the pest. He nuzzled my hand with what almost looked like affection. "You know…" I managed between gasps, "I suppose… you need a name…" The pest looked at me with wide, expectant eyes. "Pest…" I groaned, looking away. That was it. Pest. "Samka," I said, lifting my hand from his reach lest he bite me again. Samka meant 'pest' in one of the Old Languages.

Surprisingly, he understood. He flitted onto my lap, giving a happy chirp. "You're heavy," I muttered, but made no attempt to push him off. I can't remember what happened next exactly, but I guess I fell asleep. When I opened my eyes, I was in the same position; the hawk wandered my lap like a wary dog. I looked up to see a ring of people standing around me. Father was one of them.

"Would you mind calling off your watchdog?" he smirked, nodding to the bird.

I shot him a puzzled look.

"We tried to move you to your bed," Father explained, "because I really don't know how you got here, and your little bird there bit one of my men. Put him out for a few days. Would you like to sleep in your bed, or would you rather remain on the floor?"

I decided the bed would be much more comfortable than the floor, and I pushed the hawk from my lap to reach for a hand up. He made an indignant squawk, but made no move to bite another guard as I leaned on my father, who helped me get back to bed. Instead, the bird hopped along beside me and, as I lay down, he jumped and fluttered onto one of my pillows.

"Why were you up?" Father asked as he started pulling my covers over me.

"Samka was annoying me," I murmured, feeling weary in the warmth of my blankets, "I tried to catch him to put him away… he's too fast."

Father reached for the bird, only to jerk his hand back as the beak opened and snapped at him. "He is a nasty one," he growled, "I think you're the only one who can even go near him." His hunch was confirmed as the bird scooted closer, resting his soft body against my ear and cheek. Father sighed resignedly, and patted my forehead as he had done when I was a child, "Get some rest." He jerked his hand away before my guardian could take a bite, and exited the room.

"You need to behave," I yawned, knowing somehow that the bird understood. Comforted by his protective presence, I fell deeply asleep.