Her office was a place that trembled strength and arrested souls. They faltered at the sight of a dark, looming shadow; cast by the winding stairs of Gothic design, black; as with the rest of the furniture, and dull, like the warm, almost-red glow of the ceiling lights.

The dark crystalline desk, placed before towering shelves that rose like stones—tombstones—reflected a sinister beauty that belonged to the woman who sat behind it.

V stroked her Avian on his head, smiling as though she would very much like to have this peace murdered.

It was then when he entered; his hair kept into a low ponytail; his arrival swift and barely audible.

She glanced up.

"Oh. You're early," The headmistress waved a dismissive hand—a usual gesture for him to take a seat. In fact, her greeting was not any different from the one she did the day before, or the day before that either.

Vaughn was always early.

"You have news for me?" She proceeded to ask calmly, eyes trained on the unimportant papers before her despite the presence of another.

The student did not sit. He stood, quite still, beside the gothic armchair that was really meant for décor and not for sitting. V didn't particularly mind; as long as it served its purpose of making the room...fashionable.

An office should, after all, look like an office.

"Mother, did you know about the girl?" Vaughn began quite strangely; after all, it wasn't like him to cut to the chase. But perhaps there were times when everyone would, for reasons, behave differently in changing circumstances.

Vaughn however, never really stopped to think if this was change that he was experiencing; or merely a discovery of another him.

"Girl?" The headmistress laughed, as if amused, "what about this...girl, you talk of?"

Her Avian—a bearded vulture—fixed a dead stare at Nox.

"Mother," He felt the dried cracks in his patience with an anguish. "You know she is not."

"Not what, child?"

"Dead."

She smiled.

"Of course she isn't," Her gaze lowered to her nails, as if finding the conversation rather unnecessary to her dearer time.

Vaughn waited, Nox ruffling her feathers impatiently by his side.

She however, refused to continue.

"Mother—"

"Oh please," The headmistress snapped with a mocking laugh, "don't bore me any further. I don't remember bringing you up in this manner, really. Have I not made myself clear that some lives are far less valuable than others?"

She raised her voice as if she was a parent reprimanding her child for spilling a glass of milk.

"Believe me Vaughn, there are some people who leave the world as if they were never here in the first place. Such insignificant existences—oh you don't want to end up like one of them do you?"

He knew what she would say next.

"Living, child, is survival. And to survive, you feed."

"Do not stray, Vaughn."

"It is none of your business whether someone else is dead or alive—as long as you survive."

At this, her Avian screeched in agreement; as though her words had a lively factor that could remove the death that caked its eyes.

Vaughn said nothing. Only nodded.

"Do understand," The headmistress turned to pour something dark into a dark Chelsea teacup. "You will thank me for it, I'm sure. In the future."

She handed him the cup of jasmine tea and he noticed the delicate butterflies decorating the saucer. He saw this gesture as some sort of resolution. A cup of tea after some warped form of pastoral care but distorted or not, Vaughn knew that there was only one person in the world who would love him without condition.

He drank the tea.

Though he very much hated it.

Not that his mother knew, either way.

"Have you spoken to that eagle lately?"

The headmistress asked with a sudden interest. Vaughn returned the teacup and its saucer to her desk, nodding briefly.

"Fairly."

"Oh!" She turned in surprise. "What did you speak of?"

The black vulture paused.

He knew very well what they spoke of. And he knew very well how Luka thought of him in general. Rather, he knew very well how everyone else thought of him.

That itself came as a comfort to Vaughn; for most humans spent their lives worrying over what others thought of them and how they should portray themselves in front of the world—but Vaughn?

No.

He felt nothing like that, for he was sure that everyone—everyone—hated him. And it pleased him to feel so.

The vulture didn't have to worry about false smiles, and false laughs, and false joy and even false love, for the matter.

Hatred was his only reality.

"The sparrow."

"The sparrow?" V repeated, eyes caught with interest. "How so? Are they enemies?"

"Not particularly."

Then they narrowed.

"Acquaintances?"

"No. I doubt so."

She frowned with a laugh.

"Friends?"

"No."

Vaughn's answer was definite. And he was quite sure of it, too.

After all, he was certain—that there was no such thing as friends.

______________________________

Victoria was a swift flyer and Io, in comparison, looked like a fish out of water. He was, of course, chasing after the predator on land and though this was supposedly his optimal ground, Io realized that he was barely close to anything that would have been considered swift.

Lyra urged him on, as usual. Though she too, had little stamina to keep up with the golden eagle.

The north towers were quite a distance away from the library in the east, and the building anxiety that stirred within the boy's chest was beginning to rattle the bars of his cage. Impatience was a demanding visitor, and Io had not the heart to cater to its every need.

It only served to fuel his candle of curiosity; it's flame stagnant.

Alit.

The trio turned a corner and Io almost collided with a student going in the opposite direction. He was lucky that they were no predator; and thus, forgave him easily.

"I'm so sorry!"

"It's fine, are you alright?"

"Yes I am! Um, I um, I'm late for something so."

"Class? Haha, same here," The girl laughed. "See you around!"

"Bye!"

Io struggled to catch up with the golden eagle who had not stopped to wait for him. She seemed to be leading him to a fairly urgent matter.

The lack of communication (or the inability to hear her voice, for the matter) made things very difficult for the curious sparrow; as questions, overwhelming, burned bright in his chest without answers to douse such dangerous flames.

At last, they had crossed the connecting bridge and Io was finally beginning to understand just where Victoria was leading him.

They stopped outside the infirmary upon the sight of her Winged.

Luka was leaning against one of the arch frames that lined the corridors—alone; waiting. His arms were folded across his chest, eyes downcast and seemingly impassive.

He looked up when Victoria drew closer, Io and Lyra in tow.

Glancing once at the double doors of the infirmary, he beckoned the sparrow over.

"What's going on?" Io began with curious eyes and a fairly loud voice, fueled by anticipation.

Luka put a finger to his lips.

"Quiet."

Io nodded.

The eagle glanced at the infirmary. He knew not how to put this, but he saw no benefit of withholding such relevant news.

"They want to put her to sleep."

At first, Io did not understand, exactly, what Luka had meant by sleep. But then he realized that there was, really, no other definition that could render him useless, and explain the horrible sink of his heart.

"Why?" He asked first. "Who would do such a thing? Pipa's not dead—"

Again, Luka was quick to silence the sparrow. There were voices—faint—coming from inside the infirmary.

"V. Goldfinch was speaking to Faustes about it. I heard."

"No way. They can't do that, she's still alive. It's obvious that she is, she can't be...they can't decide that for her," His voice broke in the strangest manner.

Urgent, he began to search for an answer.

"Her brother! She has a brother—surely, he won't agree to this, will he? Luka," Io looked up at his friend. "They wouldn't."

It reminded him of when the sparrow was thought dead. Luka, too, though in disbelief, had thought that Io had passed. Surely, if the girl did not wake either; without a breath of air, a sign of life, a beat of her heart—surely, she was dead?

Were these not ways to tell the presence or absence of life?

"There must be some way...some way we can prove that she's alive. She could wake up! Any moment, she could," The boy insisted. "Why would they...they could just leave her in the infirmary—there's nothing wrong with that. Why must they..."

Luka watched as a sadness he could not understand began to unfold before his eyes.

He wondered if this sorrow was similar to the one he felt the last time.

"Do you think I can go in? Will they stop me from seeing her?" Io asked, gaze unsteady, darting from the doors of the infirmary to the embers in the eagle's eyes.

Luka was honest.

"V is inside. She will not let you in."

His heart screamed an angry note of frustration; helpless as circumstances wrapped itself around his active mind, taunting, yet restricting choice and action.

Luka could almost hear this. And perhaps for this reason, he offered the next line.

"If you want," He began with a gaze so strong, it burned. "I could talk to them."

Io's head raised in hope, and their eyes met. "Will you?"

There was a pause in their conversation; for the eagle had sensed a third presence approaching and was quick to hush his companion.

Her footsteps, dainty, were heard first. She appeared soon after, behind a wall, as if she knew that she was found out and had come to confess to her crime.

Gretchen Klein stood before the pair, eyes locked onto Io's. She however, had not the courage to look at the predator.

She had simply heard the beginning of the conversation between the two, and—starving for ripe news and gossip to sink her teeth into and satisfy her desires for attention—had stopped to listen.

At present, she shuffled her feet awkwardly, pretending as though she wasn't caught red-handed in her act, and that it was never a crime to eavesdrop on an interesting topic.

In her defense, she couldn't simply shut her ears and play deaf. Ears were meant to listen. She could not stop them from listening.

What had surprised her however, was the fact that Io—a mere tree sparrow—was on such friendly terms with the most sought after predator. Of course, nothing could be compared to her dear Prince Jalaal but nevertheless, she was well aware that a golden eagle was placed higher on the chain as compared to a northern harrier.

Her mind raced ahead of her heart, already imagining the praise and attention that she would receive with the announcement of such radical news; a sparrow, friends with an eagle. No—no, that would sound absurd.

No one would believe her.

In fact, what would sound more reasonable to the general public?

From her knowledge, Gretchen understood that hunting season had been long over since the end of the Hunt ball. This, therefore, came as a surprise to her. What she failed to understand, at present moment, was the interaction between these two.

They resembled nothing like predator and prey. Far too informal, too raw, and definitely far too fond.

Gretchen was, without a doubt, jealous.

Her heart turned green from the affection that the sparrow and the eagle shared—something that she had longed to possess with her predator.

The fact that they were not even related as predator and prey only served to fuel her jealously even further. It was impossible.

Impossible for them to be friends.

"Gretchen? Are you alright? You're very pale," Io woke the peacock from the depths of her green heart. She glanced up, eyes darting between the sparrow and the eagle.

She noticed that it was hard for her to hold her gaze, especially with the predator. It heightened her resentment for the one who was able to do so. And so easily, for the matter.

"I'm fine."

Her snap was cold and appeared louder than she had intended it to be. Gretchen bid him no goodbye, and descended the stairs fleetingly—whisking herself to Jalaal's quarters with a sense of immediacy.

Piping news stirred in her mind; and soon, the air of the island.

____________________________

"Sweet, you smile so strangely," Jalaal noticed upon his prey's entrance. His room—palatial, as his father had requested—was occupied adequately by a couple of his friends. Predators, of the same rank. Alongside, their prey were standing quietly apart from the group, looking on as their masters played their third round of poker.

"Prince!" Gretchen curtsied by the doorway, her head bowed in an endearing manner as he so liked her to do so. "I have news."

He laughed, amused by her simple excitement. The northern harrier beckoned her over.

She approached, and, manners perfect, greeted the room full of predators with a well-practiced smile. They nodded in return, very much pleased by her bold yet mannered nature which had come across as rare amongst many prey.

This delighted Gretchen since she was, after all, very good at establishing a distinction between her and the...the ordinary. She understood this personality of hers as a talent, and used it well to her advantage.

"What news, sweet?"

"Trivial news," She said humbly. "There is nothing that can be more important than the prince, after all."

His lips curled up in a rare smile. "Clever."

"But my prince, it is only the truth," Gretchen smiled with a calculated tilt of her head. "And so is what I am about to say of the golden eagle and a sparrow."

At this, the peacock knew that she had the attention of the entire room in her hands.

Everyone was looking at her with a sudden interest—and this pleased her very much indeed. Though there were other exotics in the room as well, some, amongst the prey, she felt as though she was raised on elevated ground. A pedestal.

"Do tell, sweet," Jalaal prompted, placing his hand on the small of her back as if in encouragement.

Gretchen relished in this perfect attendance of undivided attention.

She began her story.

"I was going to class, my prince. Thinking about you, of course—so I was distracted. I hadn't heard the noises in the hallway down below. In the north towers. It was outside the infirmary; I was descending the stairs and, half-way down, heard voices. Because they seemed unfamiliar, I stopped first, worried that they were predators. One of them were, I found. It was the golden eagle."

"Sullivan?" A predator asked, and she nodded.

"Yes, that's him. The one who was awarded the title during the games."

She continued. "He was talking to the sparrow. A tree sparrow. I barely notice him, so I'm not entirely sure of his name but he appeared to be a first year."

"What were they talking about?" Jalaal leaned forward in his seat, listening intently.

"Something about sleeping, and death. I also heard the headmistress' name," The keywords were important. They made up the bulk of her story.

It was at this—the moment the words left her lips—that Gretchen realized who, exactly, Io and Luka had been talking about.

They were talking about Pipa, the girl she had invited to join the Sorority.

Was V going to euthanize her?

Surely, at this point, she should care.

After all, the canary was worth her concern—she was beautiful, and she was part of the Sorority. She must care. She had to, it was only right to do so.

Strangely however, deep down, Gretchen didn't seem to care very much at all.

"Surely, there must be some sort of mis—"

"No," Jalaal was quick to defend. After all, doubting his prey was doubting him. "Sullivan has no prey, I'm sure. The hunting season is over, and the last I saw him was at the ball without one."

No one dared to say a word against this. It was equivalent to defying royalty and that certainly didn't sit well with any of their selfish, human minds.

"They were speaking amiably. I heard them loud and clear," She emphasized in support of her predator's stand. Her use was necessary. "The eagle was calm, at least. The sparrow was fairly anxious, and his voice was unrestrained." She wanted to present herself as kind and forgiving, so of course some form of euphemism was imperative in the story. Unrestrained was simply a nicer word for what she regarded as unrefined.

"Amiably?"

"They can't be friends." There. They were thinking her absurd. She knew it would turn out like this—

"Of course not," Jalaal scoffed, leaning back against the vintage sofa he had specifically imported from his home country. The airship encountered some problems with it, but of course they could not possibly deny a prince. "Is it not obvious? It's what Sullivan wants the sparrow to think they are. That eagle, he is cunning. I know him."

Gretchen breathed a sigh of relief at her predator's calm and rational conclusion. It made perfect sense to her, and yet served to heighten the value of this piece of gossip.

The game of poker resumed; but the subject remained.

"Wasn't there some rumor that he was the one who won the games?"

"Who?"

"The sparrow."

Silence ensued. Cards were played.

"I thought it was just some nonsense that the prey were spreading. To boost their morale, or something like that. Logically, they would want to believe it possible for a prey to win the games."

"All lies, of course," He added. "Typical prey."

"Imagine how ashamed that scavenger would be if a sparrow beat him at his game."

Jalaal delighted in this joke very much, and his laugh was a priceless reward. "Indeed."

"I mean, a golden eagle is plausible, of course, but a sparrow? He would've gone crazy if he lost to someone like that."

Laughter followed, as with the flow of cards.

Little did they know—while a game of cards was played in this enclosed space, something bigger was brewing; stirring on the outside.

A larger game.

How?

No, walls did not have ears.

Neither did the windows; or any inanimate object, for the matter.

There was a parrot in the room.

_____________________________

The insistent buzz that filled the great hall had little effect on Io. His mind was harping, still, on the various implications of Luka's words.

He reconsidered his response; whether it had been appropriate in his moment of panic and pale anxiety, and how he and the predator had agreed on a temporary solution which came at a certain price.

"I smell baked potatoes," Vijay rubbed his hands together in anticipation as they made their way across the hall in the middle of lunchtime. "It's been long since the cook made them."

Io agreed lightly, tailing his class president as they approached the food table. His eyes however, searched the right side of the hall.

"Something wrong?" The storm petrel paused to look at his friend. He tried to follow his gaze.

The sparrow who had been searching for someone stopped to reassure his classmate with a smile. "Ah, no. It was...nothing. I thought I saw someone."

Io was, in truth, worried about Luka.

Yes, the latter had agreed to speak to Goldfinch and Faustes regarding the matter—Pipa's sleep, to put it simply—but surely suspicion should arise if he were to be concerned? A predator with absolutely no connection to the girl; what would they think?

Io thought himself far too cowardly to admit the obvious gaps in their plan, and of course, face the glaring reality of his useless nature under such circumstances.

Things were out of his control.

But nevertheless, there must be some things that he could play a part in deciding. A choice of his own, an active, conscious decision—

"Io did you, um...do something?"

The sparrow cut himself from his stream of consciousness to face his friend. Vijay's voice was low, and his head was lowered to avoid the eyes that were, all of a sudden, on them. He felt the growing darkness that ebbed its way into his cage and fought back his urge to leave the hall.

"What's going on?"

"I don't know."

"Shall we leave?"

Io threw a glance over his shoulder for a brief moment.

Even the left side of the hall was looking.

"Why is everyone looking at you?" He asked.

Vijay shook his head quietly. "Sorry Io. I...I don't think it's me they're looking at."

"Come on Io, let's leave," He added in haste, uncomfortable with the attention that they were receiving.

"But you were hungry. If it's me, then I should go. You stay—"

"It makes no difference," The storm petrel reasoned anxiously, matching the former's urgent whisper. "What if they follow you? I'm going to tell a teacher."

"Sparrow."

They turned, startled by the voice. Io didn't recognize it at first, and he almost didn't recognize its source even as he was looking at it, until he saw that she was wearing the student council tie.

"Jane?"

The phoenix beckoned him to follow.

She exited the hall by the right; and suddenly the murmurs rose to a careless height.

Io could hear the word on every tongue, seemingly loud and very, very clear.

He bid Vijay a hasty goodbye and together with Lyra, left the haunting whispers behind.

*

"I am to relay a message," She began as soon as they were far from dangerous human minds. "V would like to see you as soon as your lessons end. At her office."

"The headmistress?" Io said quietly, swallowing every version of fear that threatened to silence the beat of his heart. "Did she say why?"

"She gave no reason."

Nothing. Absolutely nothing on the island reflected the miserable state of his mind. There was not a single dark cloud in the invisible sky; not a drop of rain; and not a sign of wavering peace.

Everything was still and independent of his pale fear, as though the sun or the clouds cared not for his existence.

Far too insignificant for their attention.

Jane waited.

He turned to her with a note of thanks, which she returned with a nod.

The phoenix was about to leave the sparrow to his box of horrors when he decided to ask a question so unrelated that she was startled.

"What is your real name?"

Jane paused, unnecessarily contemplative as she deemed. "It is a Chinese name."

"Ah, so you are Chinese?"

"Yes," She noted, and out of standard manners, returned the question. "And you?"

"Does it matter?" Io sat on the grass, under a tree.

She stood.

"No."

"So what is your name?"

Jane assumed that the sparrow was having trouble coming to terms with the unwelcomed attention he was receiving. She considered telling him about the rumors.

"Jing. It means well."

"Well?" He repeated. "As in good-natured?"

"No. Just—a well."

"The one you draw water from?"

"Yes," She answered simply, meeting his gaze. She felt defeated all of a sudden, wondering if the sparrow felt the same.

"Jing," He had pronounced it strangely, but it did not matter much to the phoenix. "Will you sit beside me?"

"I am a predator."

It wasn't an answer. The comment seemed to him both relevant but unnecessary at the same time. She sat down, nevertheless, and continued plainly.

"You. And Luka."

"V has asked to see both of you."

"Oh," Io blinked. "Thank you," he said, not having expected her to tell him something out of the norm. He was glad that she did.

"It is normal," Jing added. "I doubt she would do anything to your friend. You should worry about yourself."

Friend. She had said that Luka was his friend.

The sparrow's gaze softened. He appeared vulnerable to the phoenix, and she was sure his heart could be destroyed within that office of V's.

She had not the heart to say it, however.

So Jing sat very still; breathing—but not necessarily feeling as though she was...alive.

_____________________________

Luka had not the appetite for a meal.

The predator's common room served drinks and classic meat—lamb, deer and beef—but he did not order anything upon entering the unoccupied room.

His quarters were deemed unconducive for thinking; for the sight of sunflower seeds merely made his heart far too loud and rendered him incapable of productive thought. The common room however, fortunately empty, was void of distractions and perfectly boring. Conducive, or as Luka would think, for productive thinking.

Victoria was out hunting, and he was comfortably alone with his quiet mind.

He revised the conversation with Goldfinch, recalling its content and listing out, by the side, how he would go about convincing Faustes of his stand. Callaghan would have to come in, at some point, for he was a useful hold over the deputy headmaster—

The door opened.

"You were right here?" Dimitri crossed the common room towards where Luka was sitting, a look of frustration in his eyes. "Your Avian sure likes to send people on unnecessary trips to nowhere."

Luka returned his gaze impassively.

"You're not going to apologize?" The falcon raised a brow after a pause, folding his arms as if unsatisfied.

"That is her nature. Not mine," Luka pointed out effectively, for Dimitri raised his hands in defeat and sighed.

"Whatever you say. V wants you in her office."

The eagle frowned.

"Don't ask me why," Dimitri laid out hastily. But being the typical double-standard falcon he was, he turned to Luka with prying eyes—too insistent to halt. "Why did you do something like that?"

Dimitri had asked him why; just like everyone else had. It was a question that Luka did not wish to answer—nor had the answer to, for the matter.

"Do what?"

The falcon clicked his tongue in annoyance and shifted his weight uncomfortably. "You know what; the sparrow," He sighed. "This isn't a game, Sullivan—you don't make friends with what you feed off. It doesn't work that way."

"Besides, hunting season's long over. Move on. Time to get a mate. Take this as advice from a kind senior," Dimitri shrugged, inviting himself to take a seat beside the eagle. "Even if you do wish to live forever in the hunt, at least look for an exotic. Come on, a tree sparrow? You find those everywhere."

Luka laughed shortly.

Dimitri snorted, amazed at the condescending behavior of someone a year younger than himself.

"Just saying. Anyone would kill to look like you, or have your Avian," The falcon propped his legs up on the coffee table. "Don't throw them all away as if they don't matter to you, because that's like pissing on everyone else who cares about what you have and aren't lucky enough to have it."

The eagle, very much like any other human, did not wish to hear what he already knew.

He rose from his seat and left the room without a word.

*

V was not in her office when Luka came by. In fact, the only one who resided in her nest during that current moment was Callaghan, her prey.

For all intents and purposes, Luka should have known. He was, also, rather amazed that he had yet to say a word to this bespectacled professor who—though very much powerless in authority—had an unspoken hold over the two who did hold the most authority on the island.

"Oh, Mr. Sullivan. Yes, the headmistress is expecting you," Callaghan smiled politely with a bow of his head. "Allow me to excuse myself."

Luka held out his arm to prevent the other from escaping.

Of course, this served to startle the widowbird—who was already having a hard time looking the student in the eye.

"Is something the matter?" He asked quickly. "The headmistress will arrive soon, I assure you. Please have a seat, the wait will not take long—"

"Pipa."

At this, Callaghan blinked with a pause. His gaze darted across the floor, as if planning his route of escape.

"Pipa? I...I'm afraid I have no idea what you're talking about, Mr. Sullivan."

"Change her mind. You know it's not right." Of course it wasn't right. Not when there was still a chance of her waking, just like Io—

"Oh please," Entered V, a glass of red wine between her fingertips. "Stop bothering the poor Mark, he's had enough for the day, haven't you Wint?"

Callaghan said something under his breath which sounded like an apology; many apologies, in fact, strung together in quick succession, before he excused himself and retreated into the next room.

This all happened very quickly, and before the eagle could fully register the unsettling notion of being alone in the same room with a bearded vulture, he was left quite displaced in the middle of a storm.

A storm that was about to brew.

"Sit down Luka, I'm afraid words take longer than one might think they do," She gestured to the empty couch on her left.

Luka nodded; but he did not sit.

He also didn't bother inquiring about the headmistress' abnormal drinking hours.

"Very well, stand if you may," V smirked in amusement, taking a seat herself as she swirled the glass in her hand. "What is it with you and prey? Now I hope you haven't been going through the rest of my board regarding the existence of an insignificant canary. It's such a waste of your time."

Was it because of Io? Because of him, that he had begun to notice the careless diction that V couldn't bother to censor in the absence of prey?

He waited for her to continue.

"Oh, please. Luka," She laughed. "You have far more important things to do; and talking to sparrows is not one of them."

V had said this as though she was having a light conversation with the eagle—a sort of friendly exchange between two old friends that Luka barely found familiar or comforting in the slightest.

"Surely, you are no ordinary predator dear. You understand why you were awarded the victory, do you not?"

"The one you took from him? Yes," Luka met her gaze impassively. "I understand."

At this, the headmistress drew her lips into a thin line.

"Correct if I'm wrong, Luka, but were you, perhaps, suggesting that I stole that sparrow's victory and oh-so-kindly bestowed it upon you?"

The eagle was unfazed.

"Am I wrong?"

"Oh, no," V laughed once more, thoroughly amused. She had known that he was hard to handle, but as each passing second went by she was beginning to think that she might just have underestimated the eagle. "Of course you are."

"You see, Luka. This is where you have, unfortunately, misunderstood my intentions. Now, allow me to define theft," The headmistress said after a sip of her wine that was starting to look a lot less like it under the red light. "It is to take one's possession without permission."

"Well Luka, the victory was never supposed to belong to a prey. At all. Any prey, as a matter of fact," She smiled falsely, "not a sparrow. Not a tree sparrow. And surely not your silly tree sparrow."

"It was never his victory. Now you see why it is not stealing, dear?"

Ire.

How long had it been since he had felt the rage burn in his chest? Taking, along with it, the smoke of reason and the chill of indifference?

Such a heat thawed the logic that had placed a lock on his cage and there was not a single part of him that seared in frustration at the injustice.

"I understand that youth is a pleasant folly you wish to live, Luka," She rose with a smile. "But sometimes we cannot afford to do foolish things. Not when we have eyes following our every move."

"And wherever you go; wherever we watch."

The effect of her Avian—perched on top of the shelves that backed the walls—spreading his wings with a hideous call was enhanced by Luka's dawning realization that Io was in trouble.

"Tragic, really," V nodded. "Your piteous friendship with that silly thing would only bring harm to him."

"Which, by the way, I hope has not progressed very far. Friendship is temporary, I assure you."

For some reason, this reminded the eagle of a certain vulture. His mind jumped to the most plausible conclusion; that Vaughn had told his mother about him and Io.

"Scavengers."

Such was the bitter virulence that attacked reason. Having lost his grip on all rationality, Luka had lashed out with something he should not have said—the word saturated with a vengeance that he sought to return.

V, however, appeared just as unfazed as Luka had been, from before.

"Oh, please. Don't use vulgar words, they mean so little."

The eagle turned his back on her, hand on the door which he pushed—outwards—and left the darkness behind.

___________________________

"Luka?"

For the very first time, the eagle wished that he was hearing things.

"You were called too?"

He had emerged from the office; uncomfortable with the foreign resentment that hung by his cage, when he saw the very person they had been speaking about—sitting in the waiting room, swinging his legs in the most carefree manner that Luka had the misfortune of witnessing.

____________________________

A/N: NUUUU such tragic ;_; tragic such ;_; sob sob dammit why does cuppie like angst?? I don't even know :/ To be honest, I enjoy writing V because of the way she talks. Picture above is a northern harrier (Jalaal)! I also enjoyed writing the scene of gossip, because that is, really, how rumors spread and the truth gets distorted. It's not the evidence that matter—it's how it is interpreted by the one who hears it. Gretchen didn't mean to make it sound as if Luka and Io were doing something punishable by metaphoric death. The other predators and prey merely saw it as that.

On the same note, the theme of metaphoric death is prevalent in this chapter, which is why its titled 'Living Dead' (not because, you know, I play the game :3), but because for some reason...some humans just seem to live like they are dead.

What is it to live?

Without love and kindness and friendship and courage—is it worth living a life like that?

And lastly, to live without emotion—is that not equivalent to death?

Of course, we are dealing, here, with metaphoric death and not literal death. Which means that the characters don't literally die but feel as though they are dead or in the process of dying slowly.

Uwa, such a long explanation. I hope you are not bored with the story ;_;

-Cuppiecake (loves u v.v.v much eep)