Young Writers Society

A steady drum set the beat and bare feet thumped to the rhythm across wet sand, punctuated by the crackling of a bonfire that popped intermittently over the wild tune of the fiddle, the flute, and the bagpipes. It was an upbeat melody that reminded a blue-eyed dancer of home, of spring meadows and of games in the swift-flowing river. Mostly, though, it was reminiscent of other nights, similar nights, spent under a midnight sky painted silver with stars in celebration of victory.

The dancers moved in perfect tandem with one another. Some dances might be compared with those of birds — soft, fast, precise, the steps taken on the toes in preparation for every leap and bound and spin that might come. This one, however, was not so delicate nor so gentle. It was fast, fun, and brimming with an energy that only came from so many joyous souls in one place at one time moving together.

Jay's hair flew in an onyx stream behind her, decorated with a single red ribbon to hold her braid in place as she spun and stomped with the music. A smile lit up her face as the sun does a morning sky and she found herself lost in the rhythm and the exhilaration of such physical exertion.

It was when morning came that she began to regret her decision. Not the dancing, of course, but, rather, the amount of alcohol that she’d ingested that had proceeded to cause her excessive memory loss of the glorious night before and, though it had offered temporary euphoria, ended with more of a hangover than she really would’ve wished for.

She came to this particular realization when she awakened to an abhorrently loud, high-pitched squawk next to her face and the painful twisting of an ear.

The young woman made an incoherent exclamation of pain and rolled over, swatting at the brilliant blue bird that had been sitting on her to get it off and to go away. The moment she opened her eyes in order to locate and get rid of her assailant she found herself promptly blinded by the glaring sunlight. She snapped another few choice words to no one in particular and buried her face in the jacket she’d ended up using as a pillow on the beach. A headache had already begun to make her entire head throb with every pulse of her heart.

The bird, however, was very persistent, and was quickly back to agitate her. This time it decided to pull on her hair incessantly. Once more she tried to swat it away and again it evaded her, only to return and attempt similar shenanigans until she got up.

“Happy now?” Jay demanded of it, grabbing the jacket and stalking off down the beach in a huff with her eyes squinted against the pale sand and shining ocean off to her right.

The beast alighted upon her shoulder without an answer, as was typical of such a creature. She sniffed disdainfully at the avian and shrugged her jacket on — which displaced the black-throated corvid-like bird and only sufficed to worsen her condition due to the raucous shriek it uttered in protest. Why couldn’t she have found a quieter beast that fateful day three years ago?

She was fourteen when she’d discovered it. To be honest, she didn’t have any idea what it was. At first she thought it was a crow, then a bluebird, and now she was fairly certain it was a jay — but she’d never seen any kind of jay with a tail longer than its body or such an extravagant little crest made of several dark feathers. At some point she’d given up on identifying the companion she now simply knew as “Mags” but found herself wishing daily her voice wasn’t so shrill.

Once she stopped moving around so much the bird calmed down and sat in content silence. She found herself wondering idly where the nearest town was. She must’ve been through one the night before but couldn’t exactly remember where it was or what it was called. Maybe she should’ve listened to Thuki and cut down on her drinking before she left.

Ah, well, it was what it was and she’d been in far worse situations. No one had stolen anything off her (not that she had much worth stealing) and Mags was alive and well, so she didn’t find much reason to worry. Besides, why expend such energy when she could already hardly think through the grogginess and sickness she felt.

She was already halfway down the beach when she stopped dead in her tracks, patting the top of her bare head. Her hat! She spun around with such speed she nearly tripped over her own feet and fell over from vertigo, but luckily was a rather agile fellow despite her lack of sobriety and managed to keep her feet and stumble back towards the ashen sticks of the bonfire and pick her way through the numerous fallen bodies of passed-out men and women who hadn’t been awakened at the crack of dawn by some lousy bird.

It took her longer than it should have to figure out where she’d been asleep and locate the worn leather sailor’s hat. It didn’t look like much. The only thing even remotely noticeable about it was the emerald green, plumulaceous panache sparkling like a gem in the morning sunshine. She picked it up, brushed off the dust, and popped it atop her crown with a sigh of relief; she wouldn’t have known what to do with herself had she lost it.

“You shoulda told me, ya useless feather-brain,” she grumbled to Mags as she started back off down the beach towards civilization. “You’re smart ‘nuff t’ wake me up ’n get in me way ’n pick pockets but ya couldn’ even have told me I was missin’ me hat?”