Laughter was not something that he was accustomed to.

And yet, here it was—looking down at him with hardened eyes as it passed like a breath of foul air swimming in his throat.

"Scavenger."

The laughter singed his heart from within, leaving traces of the fire; burnt and black.

Someone stood in his way as he was, vainly, trying to make his way back to class as quietly as possible. How naïve he thought himself to be—to have the gall to think that a day would pass so serenely as though he was invisible. The truth was that he wasn't, however.

As much as Vaughn wished he could sometimes disappear from the face of the island, he could not, and it angered him so.

The tragedy of life was living, and so it had been since;

Since that day.

"Going somewhere?"

He tried to push past the crowd that had formed to stare.

"Are scavengers deaf?" In the midst of his attempt, a hand reached out to grab his arm—another, his hair.

For what reason did he wear it long?

He must have been so naïve.

So naïve to have thought that he was his friend—

"Leave him Ty, first years don't deserve your attention."

"Which is why, Cam, we teach them," The bald eagle tugged harder on Vaughn's hair and the latter fell to the ground without a sound.

It was strange how the heart made no sound as it broke. Vaughn had always thought that such a thing, so loud on a normal basis—beating, every second every minute—would have the strength to let, at least, a final sigh escape its lips.

But even his heart had to disappoint him.

Let him down, just like the rest of the world did, really.

There was barely time for the vulture to react as he heard the scuffling of feet and passing of shadows. His hair was in his face, and he swept the silver curtain aside—only to meet the eyes of the devil.

He paused to correct himself; for he was sure that there were many devils on the island. For all he knew, everyone was a devil. Perhaps hell was empty after all.

Ty's gaze was far too insulting and humiliating to be attributed a word for. Young Vaughn had yet to understand that this was all, in fact, reality.

Yes, that's the word.

Reality.

There was a disturbing sound, a wet secretion by his ear.

"Matches your hair," The bald eagle laughed, and there was a chorus that followed.

Something had landed on his shoulder. Vaughn looked to his right, daring his eyes to acknowledge the added humiliation.

The thing was white, gel-like, and in the middle a mixture of brown and black.

Cameron—his friend, or so he had thought he was—merely watched on.

The very scene of the past was completed, grandly, by the stares of those who stood over him, their laughter filling his ears like water.

He was falling in dark waters; drowning like a child in a storming ocean on a thunderous night.

Vaughn seemed to have lost himself somewhere along the way,

And perhaps this was what he had come to be, today.

____________________________

The sparrow sat quietly in the waiting room, his Avian fluttering by his shoulder. His silent world swayed like a blossom in the wind, still heart watching from within its cage at the shadows of time passing without word. As if to complement the ticking of the grandfather clock on his far left, his legs swung carelessly like a pendulum that was lost in its monotony of swinging to and fro; a dull, heavy rhythm that prompted one to consider the inevitable end that fragile life was bound to meet.

It was the click of the door as it opened that brought Io out of his monotony.

His eyes lit up at the sight of the eagle.

"Luka!" Leaving his seat and approaching the predator, Io was blinded by the pleasant surprise. Though he, as usual, encountered much difficulty reading the former's expression, he was not disheartened in the least.

"You were called too?"

The eagle nodded lightly, and this response seemed fairly dull to the pleased sparrow. Glancing at the door that Luka had left ajar, Io thought that perhaps he simply had not expected his presence. That was, in part, the problematic truth.

The larger part that resided in the predator spoke of his disbelief. He now thought himself foolishly naïve to think that the headmistress would only call upon him and not Io.

Luka's consciousness came to an unlikely chasm, in which rendered him immobile for a brief moment.

They stared; and for the longest time, said nothing.

"Iolani?" Callaghan peered out from behind the door to V's office. Startled that Luka had yet to leave, he cleared his throat and averted his gaze.

Io approached the professor. "Yes professor?"

"Oh." The widowbird was careful to fix his gaze on the sparrow. "Well, the headmistress will see you now."

The student nodded and, after glancing over his shoulder to give the eagle a light-hearted wave, he stepped into the office.

Left behind, Luka watched as the door closed shut behind the sparrow.

The remains of the sun filtered through the windows with a half-hearted sigh. Curtains drawn aside to reveal its blood red fall, the eye—

Closed shut.

*

"Welcome, welcome," V said airily as Io made his awed entrance, surveying the curious objects and furniture that decorated the office. He smiled politely, tottering over to the seat in front of her desk. "Oh pray don't sit, this will only take a while."

The boy nodded with a sheepish smile, backing away from the chair and standing, instead, awkwardly behind it. He had to resist the urge to stare at the intricate designs that were so curiously carved on its frame. "Good evening professor."

"Yes, yes. Let's put aside all formalities shall we?" Her Avian squawked a hideous laugh and Lyra practically jumped out of her feathers. "Surely, you are aware of the reason for your visit?"

"Well, ma'am," The boy began politely, "I hope this is about Pipa—"

"Really? How silly you little prey can be, it amuses me so," She laughed, leaning back against her velvet arm chair with a dismissive wave of her hand. "Of course not dear. It has nothing to do with that canary, we don't have time for unimportant things."

"Unimportant?" He couldn't. He couldn't stop himself.

Io had barely registered the word that left his lips before the headmistress rose with an odd frown.

"Dissatisfied, are we?" She smiled, fingers laced together as she stepped aside.

The boy made no attempt to answer as he looked on, simply—despite the dead stare that the bearded vulture seemed to fix on him.

"No matter," The headmistress grinned, gliding towards the gothic couch that she had invited Luka to sit on moments before. "Details of your satisfaction are of no interest to me. I have called upon you to speak about your...poor conduct."

She made herself yet another cup of black, abyssal liquid while Io waited for her to continue.

For some reason, he appeared rather comfortable in the darkness of the room.

"There have been rumors amongst the student body. Something about a poor sparrow being...friends with a golden eagle," V sipped her tea languidly. "What is your opinion of such a ridiculous fallacy?"

Io bit his lip in disappointment. He certainly felt rather let-down, since he had been expecting a calm negotiation of terms regarding Pipa's sleep.

This, in comparison, seemed almost trivial.

"I have no opinion...?" He replied carefully, watching as the headmistress set her cup and saucer on the coffee table.

"Rest assured dear I understand what you mean. I believe you, too, are stunned by the pure falsity of such a claim?" She grinned knowingly. "Flabbergasted, I see, that such an awfully twisted version of truth exists?"

Io cocked his head to the side in confusion. "Falsity?"

"Um. I'm...not sure about that, but I am quite certain that I expressed having no opinion, ma'am."

V blinked in surprise.

"Well then are you saying that the rumors were true?" The headmistress appeared fairly amused, and Io was happy to entertain.

"Yes ma'am. Luka and I are fr—"

The nails at his throat resembled the threat of talons hovering the surface of the skin at his neck—poised above his artery ready for a kill.

It drew on his collection of fears; reaching past his cage and taking from its chest all that was golden and joy. Io could feel the beat of the wings of his heart, not in his cage but his mouth, ready to be taken into the dark.

The note of silence that ensued merely widened the gulf between predator and prey.

She let out a hawkish laugh after a painful minute, and the sharp sound rang in his ears—enhanced by the close proximity.

"Oh dear," She managed between fits of exaggerated mirth, clutching her chest as though it was laughter that seized it and shook her shoulders to such an extent. "How amusing it is to speak to prey! Indeed, it is."

Confused, Io let her speak to herself. He refused to participate in her unknown joy.

"Did you really, haha, for just one moment, really think that you were friends?"

It was then when the darkness began to sink into his heart, weighing down the wings that sought free flight.

"Um, of course. Ma'am. I've always thought that."

"Ah, yes yes. Such a pity..." The headmistress looked on airily. "Looks like my little one hasn't been making the message clear to you both, has he?"

"Vaughn?" The boy prompted. He was instantly reminded of the letter in his locker; and the words carved onto the blackboard.

"Let us not digress," She dismissed in nothing more than a blink. "Which reminds me; he digresses quite so often that I have to put him back on track if I say so myself," V said under her breath as she rolled her eyes.

"The thing, dear sparrow, is this;" The headmistress emphasized with a step that closed the distance, "predators don't make friends with what they feed on."

"It just doesn't happen," She smiled with her teeth. "You see dear sparrow, let us imagine what were to happen if you were to be friends with, say, your sunflower seeds."

"You talk to them, share moments of joy and happiness, and whatever useless emotion there is in the world; and then what? Will you bear to feed off such creatures?"

Io opened his mouth to reply—

"Oh of course you wouldn't. Then we have here, a problematic issue, do you not see, sparrow?"

"Just how will you plan to survive when you refuse to feed?"

"This nature; this hierarchy, chain, title, role—whatever complex word you may wish to attribute it to—it stabilizes the world."

"This is what we need for social order. Someone to feed us. And for them, someone to feed on. We, dear sparrow, need. To eat."

V paused, glancing at her nails.

"Pray, don't interfere."

Courage, bravery, stupidity—anything that turned one into a fool; Io summoned it.

He unlocked his cage and released, inside, the creature that was about to take form.

"But how is that fair? How is it? How can one be born with the right to feed off someone else—"

"Born?"

The boy paused.

He felt the word pull taut in the air; tensed, ready to snap.

His creature drew back into its cage, hesitant all of a sudden.

"Born? " She repeated, tone pitched to one of offence, and then;

Disgust.

Her smile died with an acid air; eyes wide with bitter virulence—

"Get out."

"But ma'am, please, just think about—"

"GET OUT!"

The bearded vulture screeched a cry, baring its wings wide to intimidate the poor boy who was bent on seeking out the answers to his questions.

But perhaps now wasn't the time.

But if not now,

Then when?

_________________________

The young vulture shrugged off his coat in a careful manner, pulling his hair to the side and slipping it off with an unlikely grace.

He caught a glimpse of the ugly white stain on the shoulder of his coat; flinching harshly before using a cloth to scrape the excrement away. Nox shivered in disgust at the sight of another Avian's mark, as disturbed as any other human would have been had they seen another human's faeces.

She darted to her makeshift nest, situated at the high corner of Vaughn's room.

It wasn't very large.

In fact, the size appeared to be a mere shrivel upon division since it was shared by him and his mother. After all, scavengers couldn't possibly take up much space, could they?

The vulture placed his book bag by the entrance and made his way—quietly, so as not to attract attention—down to the laundry room of the predator's dormitories.

He hoped to himself that the pigeons were away; taking a break or slacking off elsewhere, he didn't care. All he wanted was to be alone.

Alone, and abandoned.

They harbored a phantom pride that manifested in his cage, casting a fog that haunted his very heart and killed all emotion under their vengeful hands. Darkness was warm, and this ghost seemed to create for Vaughn a sanctuary of lies—of false smiles and false tears—that hid the raw things produced by the fragile heart. He liked it here.

Or did he?

The vulture swept aside all weakness and seized the door latch, sliding it aside and entering the laundry room with blank eyes. To his empty joy, there was, as he hoped, no one in the room.

Having been saved from more embarrassment and humiliation, Vaughn should have felt the rush of relief and perhaps a slither of hope. And because he didn't, the boy created those emotions for himself.

At this preliminary stage, such false things were far from convincing—not to the creature in his cage and much less the ones that belonged to others.

But was that really any of his concern?

Vaughn was already—

He had placed his coat in the washing and was about to add the conditioner when a sudden click of the latch had him seized. Thoughts arrested, he drew towards the door in attempt to open it.

It wouldn't.

The latch was on the other side.

Vaughn was already broken.

______________________________

Iolani Tori was far from enthusiastic by the time he left the headmistress' office behind. Callaghan had kindly reminded him of the club meeting shortly after his dismissal—though the professor, being terrible at putting up a false front, sounded awfully apologetic for doing so.

Io didn't wish for pity; much less anyone to feel sorry for his plight. His responsibilities as a club president (with little to no one to lead, however) had to be fulfilled, and the night—however dark—should not pose as a deterrent to his seeking for the light.

This was, for all intents and purposes, a convenient excuse for the boy. It sounded all too simple; this light of a soul that stood against the darkness in any context.

So simple that he was beginning to think that it was rather...naïve.

*

The corridors at night were poorly lit; cold, shivering flames against pale stone walls with little indication of warmth and guidance at all. It was inevitable that Io encountered several Nocturnes on his way to the Astronomy tower with Lyra, but a single glance in his direction turned disinterested heads away (literally, their heads turned away). Perhaps this was to be accounted for, by the unspoken rift between the typical diurnals and Nocturnes—and that the latter had most probably yet to hear the various versions of lies going around about himself.

How Io found the tower with little to no difficulty and no interruptions, he did not know. The event was oddly relieving however, as if someone had stroked the ringing bars of his cage and soothed the creature within.

He was climbing flights (yes, flights, at least seven if he recalled correctly) of stairs to the club room when he heard the beat of familiar wings. The boy had come to notice the various patterns of flight that each Avian had to offer, especially since tree sparrows were, typically, rather boring. Victoria's of course, was suitably grand.

The crisp sound of her wings beating firmly resembled the fierce crack of a whip—a cut.

She landed before him; talons finding comfort in the sturdy banister on his right. And by comfort, naturally, she meant leaving several well-intended scratch marks on the dark wood.

Hello sparrow, she began rather lightly, staring past the boy and his Avian and looking, instead, out of the window behind his back. The moon seemed to her a little awry tonight. It appears I have a message for you. Trust Luka to treat me like a pigeon; I say he'd better watch his back.

Io couldn't help but laugh kindly. Peering down at the tiny scroll of parchment paper tied to Victoria's feet, he quickly offered to rid of it.

Please do, the eagle replied with utmost exasperation. I've had enough of this Winged—oh, will you do me a favor dear?

"What is it?" Io asked, squinting at the barely visible thread attached to Victoria's feet.

Do tell the boy to treat his own Avian with more respect. He is rather disappointing when it comes to a conversation; I hope you know what I mean.

It was Lyra's turn to laugh. Indeed!

"Well, Luka's just quiet, that's all. He's actually very thoughtful."

Victoria could have rolled her eyes. Thoughtful? Heavens, dear. He's thoughtless! Have you ever heard what's going on in his mind?

"Hmm..." Io considered the question, finally loosening the knot at her feet, "not really."

Exactly. The eagle ruffled her feathers as if to prove a point, watching as Io removed the tiny scroll of parchment paper attached to her feet. I sometimes think myself quite foolish for harboring any meagre affections I had—initially of course, towards him.

He straightened out the note and read it.

Come.

__________________________

The young Vaughn was never one to cry.

His odd ability, in which he deemed a talent, was perhaps something that most humans would have wished for at some point of time in their meagre lives; and that was to cast away all emotion—to kill it under the hands of reality. How he did so, hide the monster in his cage with loving lies, he did not know.

The vulture was lost in the reality that he had constructed for himself; so lost that he was trapped. And so he was, indeed, when someone had decided that locking the boy in the laundry room was a good idea for a light-hearted prank.

How long he had been leaning against the wall, quietly broken, Vaughn did not know.

In fact, the scavenger had come to realize that there were many things in this world that he did not know of. Knowledge was, for all intents and purposes, infinite and short at the same time and it simply confused him so.

It was only until supper that his mother had finally noticed her child missing.

Of course, Vaughn was always—always—on time when it came to council meetings, and this was a convenient (and perhaps the sole) signal for his mother; who initially had not the heart to think much of his disappearance.

It didn't occur to her that Vaughn was trapped somewhere—alone.

Tired.

Broken.

"Vaughn? Vaughn, pray tell me why you weren't at the council meeting in the afternoon," Was the first thing she had said upon his quiet arrival in her office.

His eyes, those soulless things, raised to meet hers. "Something happened, mother. I'm sorry."

"And that would be...?" To the young vulture's disappointment, there were no eyes to meet.

He decided to tell her.

"Someone thought it would be nice to lock me in the laundry room."

"Oh! How thoughtful," V snorted, seemingly amused; gaze remaining fixed on the bland report laid out before her.

He blinked. Blank.

Understanding that his efforts would, once again, slither down the dull sewers only to be forgotten in the wake of its stench; Vaughn slipped away.

His hand, as it laid upon the brass handle of the door, froze—as if there was something more.

And to his surprise, there was.

"Vaughn?"

He turned around, strangely expectant. "Yes?"

She looked at him, as if seeing him for the first time.

"Love is a construct."

"It doesn't exist."

He looked away. "I am aware."

V said nothing, as if this was a mere lecture that every mother should give to their child.

"The only people you should trust have the same blood as you."

And though the headmistress was not looking at him as she said this, Vaughn felt as though she had seen through the very lie that he had used to mask deadly emotion.

He learnt that his mother was very good at watching; and perhaps she had always been.

Perhaps in some odd manner;

The scavengers believed that blood was thicker than water.

_________________________________

He held out the packet of roasted sunflower seeds; silent in his offer. 
They were at the treehouse, as usual. On a shivering night; underneath the pale moon.

Io's head tilted in confusion, but he received the package with two hands—a polite gesture that his mother had taught him to do ever since he was three. "What's this?"

The eagle watched as his companion squinted at the packaging, making a wishful attempt at deciphering the printed words on brown paper that looked very much to him like a secret code.

"Sunflower seeds," Luka said.

Io glowed.

It was almost predictable—the way his eyes lit up at the unspoken affection that hid itself like a humble blossom amongst small words that meant so little. He regarded it as though it was a dandelion; one that swayed quietly in the light breeze, yielding to its whisper and call.

The boy's gaze flitted between the packet of sunflower seeds and the one who so strangely bestowed it upon him; as if the former was a gracious reward withheld and the latter, the withholder. "F-For me...?"

Silly sparrow. If not you, then who?

"Well, I mean, I thought it was...it could have been for Lyra," Io defended his confusion, huffing at Victoria who had made the quipped comment. "I'm just a little surprised, that's all. Pleasantly. Surprised."

He turned to Luka with a smile that glowed. "Thank you, Luka!"

It was strange to see the prey smile so brightly in the darkness of the night. Luka found this light so endearing. For some reason, it seemed to draw; and it drew him, casting its line and taking the thing in his chest along with it.

"You remembered," Io pointed out curiously as he sat crossed-leg beside the eagle, phrasing his comment like a question though his tone begged to differ. "No one's ever done that for me."

Rather than no one's really remembered Io's likes and dislikes (in fact, there were many other people who did remember—such as Pipa and Jiro, for starters), the boy didn't exactly have any friends to share such information with in the first place.

"Luka?"

"Yes?"

"Are we...friends?"

The eagle turned to him, pausing for a brief moment in well-considered thought before his mind rested on the uncertain unknown.

"I don't know."

"We are, aren't we? I mean, I like you—and you like me. Um, well at least I hope so." Io smiled sheepishly, scratching the side of his head in an embarrassed manner. "That's all we need, right?"

"I guess."

"Do you like my company?" He asked next, a hint of excitement in his voice, concealed but revealed by the spark in his eyes.

"I do."

Victoria laughed at the simplicity of his answer. An answer that meant all the world to the sparrow. He smiled as if the night wasn't dark, and spoke as if it was not a prey talking to a predator.

"Then I'm glad! 'Cuz I really like talking to you. I just like talking to you. I just really, really like talking to you."

"About?"

"About..."

Io paused, hesitant all of a sudden. He wondered what it was—exactly—that they had been talking about for the past few nights.

What were they talking about?

"About...nothing, I guess," Io couldn't help but sigh at his own intelligence. He thought himself hopeless, and Lyra promptly agreed.

"Nothing is good," Came an unexpected reply.

Io looked up, only to see a light in Luka's eyes. He couldn't tell if it was the moon; or if it the soft glow of the kerosene lamp burning in the treehouse. What was Luka looking at anyway? Where did the light come from?

"Let us...talk about nothing," The eagle laughed shortly. It was a laugh all the same, and it brought the fluttering of Io's heart to new heights, spreading its wings and beating hard and strong.

"You—you laughed!"

"I did."

"I've never seen you laugh!"

"Then you have, now."

Both Luka and Victoria were clearly amused by the excitement that the former's laugh had brought about in Io's heart. It seemed to have changed the night.

But just when was a night like this normal? Luka thought.

Nights like these were—

They were special.

They were always special—

But does that make it...normal, then?

If every night was special, it follows then that it wasn't special.

"You're right. Miss Tenner said this afternoon that 'everyone's special'. But does that mean, then, that no one is? Since everyone is special then aren't we all special? It follows then that...that no one stands out! Doesn't it...?"

"We're taking it too far," Luka flicked the sparrow's forehead and said in a teasing lilt.

"Aw...what's—"

"Don't ask me what's too far."

"Aw...why—"

"Don't ask me why not."

Io laughed, and Luka smiled to no one in particular.

"You did that just to tease me!"

"You don't like it?"

"...of course...not?" Io was puzzled. Why would anyone like to be teased?

Victoria's laughter was turning boisterous in Luka's mind. He told her to shut up.

She didn't. She was laughing so hard, it was impossible to stop.

"Why is Victoria laughing so hard? Um, was...was it something I said?"

Luka shook his head, cursing his Avian silently. "No. Leave her."

You are so mature, he internalized offhandedly, resigned. Victoria played along.

Why, thank you. I believe you are too.

This was followed by a long moment of quiet happiness.

So quiet that the night seemed to sleep along with it; shadows waiting alongside a tiny flame flickering, housed in a humble kerosene lamp. Such a darkness yearned for a friend, for there were times when, even, the night found loneliness in itself.

The eagle appeared to adopt a strange understanding for this loneliness—a friendly cloud put to sleep by the dark, and an understanding that woke in its stead. Luka was aware of the night that existed within him; and perhaps not just in himself, but most of humankind too.

He was, however, upset, and a little infuriated by V's effortless success in awakening such a darkness he had tried to keep away. So dark, that Luka felt a little lost within himself.

His friend, sensing this conflation of unrest and ire, sought to bring him back.

"Luka, is everything alright?" Io looked up at him; his eyes a light from which his windows had reflected the glow of the moon. He waited, expectant. The air—poignant.

The eagle lowered his gaze, resting upon the one beside him.

"Is it ever possible for everything to be alright?"

This questioned came as quite a shock to the younger of the two, for it had always been him—and only him—who was keen on looking further and delving deeper into the unknown. It was a pleasant surprise, nevertheless. And Io took it in his stride.

"I'm sorry Luka. I shouldn't have asked that—um, will you let me rephrase?" He responded sheepishly, looking down at his lap in an embarrassed manner. To some extent, he was guilty for assuming that his friend would not question his question. He almost thought that an attribute of his own.

Certainly, Io was right. In fact, had it been a week ago, Io would have been, surely; definitely; without a doubt—correct. The change in (or rather, the revelation of) Luka's behaviour was rather bizarre.

The eagle had always been one to accept things the way they were; and he did so, of course, with the impassive, indifferent; unthinking, unfeeling mind that he somehow possessed.

"Is there something you'd like to tell me?" His friend asked after a while. Luka's silence that ensued was, as a matter of fact, not a product of his thinking but instead, of his inability to come up with a sufficient, satisfactory reply.

He simply did not know what to say.

It seemed at this point that there was, in fact, too many things he wanted to say that he had not the courage to choose one. This led to the inevitable process of elimination—whereby Luka, mentally, began to prioritize and leave out certain options which he deemed less significant.

"Are you...okay?" Was what the eagle ended up with.

For all one could say, this was a foolish, ridiculous choice. It defeated common sense; where the obvious lights had pointed him towards and this—this was certainly not one of them.

But for some reason, the question had a light of its own. A small, flickering flame that was to be snuffed out by the darkness.

Io had laughed at this. "I would like to say yes, Luka."

"But I don't think I can."

He smiled sadly, looking up at the eagle.

"How about you?" And when his companion did not answer, went on, "are you okay?"

It was only when the question had turned on himself that Luka realized just how hard it was to answer it. The bitter ache at the back of his throat was far from pleasant; grinding fragile words from the heart into nothing more than crystals of broken glass in which he swallowed willingly.

"You know," Io continued to gaze up at the eagle with the most disarming smile. "Sometimes I think it's okay not to be okay."

"Does that make any sense?"

Strange;

For the boy had no weapon, and yet—he disarmed.

"I suppose." Came Luka's languid reply. And then, despite himself, he let slip a small smile.

It was, to Io, just as disarming.

He didn't stop to consider, however, just how this smile was in itself a show of Luka's old side. A side that he had considered weak.

His armour of apathy; of detachment and perhaps insouciance, seemed to vanish under the light of his companion's smile and this—to both Luka and his Avian—proved to be a jarring problem. He began to recall the word of caution that V had so kindly provided without a care—wondering if his friend, too, had been subject to such subtle disregard for their right of choice.

Luka had the impression that subtle was not the word to describe V whenever she spoke to any prey at all.

"Are you thinking about Miss V?" Io asked after a moment of soothing silence, still staring, and of course—still smiling.

"Yes."

"I thought about her too. After...well, after that." He nodded lamely at his own words. "Is it weird to say that I wasn't really affected by it?"

Luka found it rather strange indeed. Unexpected, really.

Well it is quite amusing if you ask me, Victoria commented lightly, talons scratching the wood underneath. That disgusting scavenger. I've never felt so distraught in my whole entire birdlife! Not to mention displeased.

Her Winged quietly agreed, but said nothing aloud.

"You were mad?" Io asked in an incredulous manner, eyes wide as he gazed at the golden eagle. "You? Victoria?"

Why of course my dear. I have honed myself an instinct that finds scavengers so repulsive.

To her newfound amusement, Victoria was entertained by Io's awed reaction—which consisted of him gasping and falling backwards although he was sitting crossed-legged on the floor.

No, I'm merely joking, sparrow. I'd rather not talk about the conversation we had with the headmistress, she paused with a sigh. If you are curious, which I know you are, perhaps you could ask that fair statue beside you.

Io blinked, turning to give the supposed statue by his side a wilful glance. Said statue moved—proving his Avian quite wrong.

"If you wish, then I shall."

This response created a form of discord within the younger of the two, leaving one of the creatures in his cage quite unsettled indeed. He sought to address this conflict between his puzzled mind and steady heart; willing one to reign over the other.

Io's gaze followed his companion's, as if searching for an answer and strangely thinking that he would find it in the eagle's eyes. He found himself being led to the dark cloak of night that seemed to obscure one's vision; where even the clouds could not be seen and all that was left was a piece of darkness that seemed, somehow, within reach.

It was perspective that made it so—for the sky at night seemed to lack depth as compared to one lit by daylight.

The pair gazed past the balcony and into the darkness; quiet.

"What are you looking at?" Asked the curious.

The disheartened paused to think. He took an awfully long time, perhaps delaying the answer he so wished would be different. In fact, more often than so the answers were already on Luka's tongue. Thinking was a matter of deciding whether or not to let them out.

"It's dark," He said, and Io stared at the night sky which was, indeed, very dark.

But that was not what Io had been looking at, initially.

It wasn't what he saw at all.

"You know, Luka," He began, reaching over to poke the other's shoulder in an all-too-friendly manner. But what was 'too-friendly'?

Were they not already friends?

"The night is dark;

But there are stars."

The eagle glanced down at the boy who was looking at the stars, and for some strange reason—he saw them in his eyes. He wondered if it was a trick of the light.

But was there any light?

All was dark and everything—

Was without hope.

"Luka," He shifted to face his friend with a smile that glowed.

"What do you see?"

Luka had seen the dark sky,

But he was beginning

to see the moon.

The night had found a friend; and that was the moon.

_____________________________

A curse left her lips the moment he was out of sight.

V was burning inside; her eyes scalding everything that entered its narrow vision and stealing bits of life that each animate object seemed to hold—fuelling her heated soul form within.

Io had left her in more than a rage.

There was not one prey who had done this to her. Not in her reign for three years, no.

V dominated.

It was her nature to do so—she was not born to do this; no.

She had created her nature.

The vulture seized the imaginary sparrow in front of her and wrung its neck like a rubber toy.

Her rubber toy.

She could not stand this any longer.

There was not one prey who had done this to her. Not in her reign for three years, no.

And she would allow no exceptions.

Io was special, yes—

And perhaps this was why she should take him out.

"Call for Vaughn, will you?" She said to her Avian as she stroked his crown. "He hasn't had any homework to do lately."

__________________________

A/N: Uwaaaa /.\ sorry it's on a cliff again but honestly you just read 6k words aren't you tired?? DDD:

To some extent, this chapter is for those readers who have a certain affection for Vaughn. I mean he does have his reasons for being very very cynical. After all, everyone does. And yes, in the beginning, Ty's Avian literally...excreted on his shoulder. I think, in their social world, this is probably the worst form of humiliation. It's like a human peeing on another human.

That scene was a show of dehumanization, perhaps. But in a different form. If I were to get a message out there on the inequalities and the discrimination in the world, people wouldn't be able to face it straight on. It's really hard to. It's only through something indirect--perhaps something like this, this scene with Vaughn--that humans are able to see the true nature of themselves. Quite sad, isn't it?

Well I guess Io is getting there, somehow. And as we all know, there is something special about him (Hi Samantha!) and he has to break this vicious cycle of discrimination and pain. It's not going to be easy. And he can't do it alone.

The questions that Io began to ask himself after listening to V talking about 'survival' and 'feeding off' others is an obvious reference to our current society--and how we are...actually...exploiting many people without knowing that we are.

We dub it as 'survival', but what purpose is 'survival' without being human? If it's 'survival', then are we not like any other animal? (which is also why this book is about birds too. It is to show the contrast between human and animals and whether or not there is a difference and if we should treat each different. Simply because we are different doesn't mean that we should be treated differently. It also alludes to race and religion and people in general)

Is this the true face of social order?

Is there really a need to feed?

If there isn't, then surely, there has to be a way...

For Io and Luka to be together (?)

-Cuppiecake who is quite emotional right nao