After buying a loaf of the 2 ring bread and a new pot of ink, Foran returned to the inn. It was still a free day, but the magic had vanished after the robbery. He just wanted to eat his bread and sketch that strange white bird. 

He settled into his hay pile in the stables, tearing off a chunk of the thick dark bread as he did so. Leafing through his notebook to a blank page, he stopped, chewing his bread thoughtfully. It was strong and hearty, full of nuts and bits of fruit. 

A shaft of sun fell through a crack in the stable walls, illuminating the blank page and making the yellow straw glow like spun gold. Sighing, he reclined, thinking back to the split second when he got a clear view of the white bird of prey. 

It had long graceful wings, white, but... he screwed up his mind in memory. There had been little gold flecks in the feathers too. Yes, that was right. He began to sketch, dipping the battered feather quill into his new ink. Slowly the bird took shape. A hooked yellow beak, and golden eyes with large black pupils bloomed on the page. A flared tail, large wings spread wide, beak open as if to-

A chittering call rang outside the shed. 

Foran sat bolt upright, a splotch of ink landing on the sketched bird's talons. There was always a myriad of varied bird calls around Kreport, but this one was totally foreign, just like the white bird. Scrambling out of the hay pile, he bolted back outside. 

Perched serenely on top of the stables was the snowy white skybird. It cooed happily as it saw him, clicking its beak.

Now that he could see it still and close up, Foran made out more details. The bird was sleek and shaped vaguely like a falcon. It's scaly talons looked as sharp as knives, as did its hooked beak. The golden eyes glittered with intelligence, and the white feathers fluffed out expressively as he drew near. 

Giving another chitter, it soared down to him. Foran flinched as the sharp talons came close to his face, but the falcon landed gently on his arm, balancing on it's scaly skin rather than digging its talons into him. 

He blinked in astonishment, and the bird blinked back. 

------------------------------------

"Foran! what is that thing doing on your shoulder?" Karlen hissed, pullling into the kitchen before the master could see. 

The strange white bird would not move from its place on Foran's shoulder. He shrugged. 

"I have no clue. It showed up outside a few minutes ago and now it won't leave." The bird clicked its beak in a satisfied way, preening its feathers mockingly. 

"You can't let the master see that! No servants are allowed to keep pets, remember?" 

"Yeah, I do," he said disgruntled. "But maybe you want to be the one to take this sharp clawed bird off my shoulder, because I don't." 

A hand suddenly descended on his bird free shoulder. Looking behind him, startled, Foran saw Leechbeard. His bright green eyes were fixed on the bird with disbelief and wonder. 

Lowering his voice so much that even Karlen couldn't hear, Leechbeard gripped him tightly and muttered, "Foran, you've got to come with me, now." 

"But-" he protested.

"Now!" Leechbeard growled urgently, already tugging back out the door. 

Giving Karlen an apologetic look, he followed Leechbeard outside again. To his surprise, the old sky captain kept leading him onward through town. 

"Sir? Sir where are we-"

"Hold on lad. We can't talk here," he replied curtly, seizing Foran's arm and herding him down a dark alley between two shops. Only there did they stop, both Foran and his new bird staring at Leechbeard questioningly. 

The retired sailor ran a hand through his long hair, eyes fixed on the pair of them. 

"Foran, my lad. Do you have any idea what that bird on your shoulder is?" 

Foran looked over at it, and replied truthfully, "No." 

Eyes shining and a grin breaking over his weathered face, Leechbeard whispered, "It's a wind rider. Very intelligent, very rare, and only drawn to one group of people."

Foran raised an eyebrow. Leechbeard's eyes were glowing and he seemed to be almost feverish. He was tempted to make a run for it, but couldn't contain his curiousity. 

"Who?" he asked, twisting his hands self conciously. 

Leechbeard shook his head in wonder, looking at Foran. "Storm strikers."