I stole her. I shouldn’t have done it, but I did.
They were killing her, and I couldn’t stand it. I had no plan, but they did.
Maderas had one goal, and making more of her was it, even if it meant breaking her in the process. Her tiny nape feathers brushed against my cheek, and she smelled like ash and copper. Hummingbirds should smell like nectar, but they’d bled her dry. And for what? Nothing more than beauty. One drop of her blood could make even the most shriveled crow look young again. I was just a sparrow, but I knew her beauty belonged to her alone.
“Jess?” Her voice was a whisper lost in the crunching of snow under my horse’s hooves, but I heard her.