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So weary. Every flap of a wing, every dip of the head is tiring. The weight of years on my back makes me wonder how I can fly at all but fly I must, fly to that retched mountain with its ensnaring scents of frankincense and myrrh. The embers on my feathers do nothing for the chilling wind against my face. I almost wish the tendrils of sky could blow the heart of the flames out, to let me feel real.

A bird shouldn’t burn and live. It shouldn’t carry the warmth of a sun in its breast as if it were nothing more than another feather. For millennia, I have carried this roaring heat. From one end of the world to the other and yet it never seems to get any lighter.

As I approach the sheer face of the mountain, I wonder how long it will remain the place I return to. It has changed, become smoother with time, less jagged and forbidding. It is now just a mountain, like any other. The people below, who I’ve watched grow from mindless animals to creatures of thought, have ceased to remember its purpose. Where once there were offerings of gold, jewels and scents, there is nought but bare ground.

Or so I had come to believe but there, standing on the ledge of my eternal home, is a human. I spiral high, trying to focus my rheumy eyes on it. Female, I think, with long, fire-gold hair. Young, maybe, perhaps just out of childhood.

I circle closer, the air ruffling my stiff plumage. Yes, definitely young, anxious. She looks around at the branch strewn ledge and the blackened rocks. Almost reverently, she picks up a shard of raw glass – made when there was once sand on the rocks – and turns it in her hands.

Folding my wings, I plummet and sweep down in spectacular fashion, landing with my aching wings spread wide. The feathers whisper in the breeze, embers flutter around my head and body as I stand in aged splendour.

The glass shatters as she whirls and her eyes meet mine. What stunning eyes, though they are wide with fear. Golden orbs flecked with emerald and sapphire, almost as spectacular as my own opalescent eyes.

The pain in my wings becomes too much to bear. I fold them, creakily, over my back. Still the human female stares, her eyes flicking over my body: the crested head, hooked beak, down to the powerful talons and around, no doubt, to the long, elegant tail. I bring my head down, a painful movement, until my eye’s level with hers.

‘What are you doing on my mountain?’ the voice sounds aged and cracked and it takes me a moment to realise the voice is mine. I had remained silent for so long, I’d almost forgotten what I sounded like.

The human gulps and takes a small step back. It’s a good thing I landed between her and the ledge for she probably wouldn’t have noticed it in her effort to get away.

‘Well,’ I say after a moment of silence, ‘do you not have a tongue?’

She nods then a foolish smile spreads on her lips. ‘You’re much bigger than I thought.’ Her voice, soft, melodious, sounds pleasant to my old ears.

‘Did you expect a songbird?’ I snap, not in anger, merely to see how she will react.

‘N-no,’ she shakes her head vigorously, ‘maybe eagle sized. And with a longer neck. You look-‘

‘Like a predator?’ I huff and shuffle along the ledge to the pile of branches I had amassed over the course of a year. ‘Of course, I must eat. Meat is best.’

The girl makes a noise, not unlike a sigh and something drops to the floor. I look over my shoulder and see a fruit roll on the rocks, its purple skin dull even with the sun on it; a fig. I do enjoy figs, their soft, sweet flesh so unlike the usual fair of salty meat and tough sinew. My favourite treat, a treat I had not tasted in many centuries. A treat I had not received since the last humans came seeking me.

Pausing in my musings, I turn around and stare at the fruit. ‘Do you not wish to eat that? It is a shame, to waste good food.’

‘I brought it, for you.’ She mumbles as she picks the fig up and brushes the dirt of it. Rolling the fruit in her hands, she speaks again, more to the fruit than me.

‘I read that if you wanted your favour, then to bring a gift. The book said gold or jewels or incense or maybe a basket of figs but,’ she sits down heavily, still rolling the fruit in her hands, ‘I can’t afford gold or jewels and I wouldn’t know what incense to bring. I don’t even have enough for a basket of figs, so I brought one. I don’t think I will get a big favour, just a small one but a small one is all I want.’

I tap my talons off the rock. This was the first time I had had any visitor for centuries; even in those days, it was old men seeking fortunes or wealthy women seeking men but never a person just out of her childhood. What could one such as she possibly want from me? Instead of asking her favour, I turn back to my task of building the retched nest. I tuck a branch under my wing and hobble over to the cluster I had made the week before.

‘Here, make yourself useful and grab that branch over there,’ I say, pointing to a thick bough of yew with my beak.

Without a word, the girl picks up the branch and starts dragging it behind her.

‘You are young, how do you know of me? I thought I had gone from the memory of man centuries ago.’ A half-truth but a useful one. ‘Do you not fear me?’

The girl pauses and wipes a hand across her brow. ‘No, why should I? I came seeking you so why would I fear what I seek? Besides, no-one would believe me if I ran back down the mountain shouting that the firebird is some giant eagle.’

I shrug my wings. Young creatures seem much bolder and this one is no exception. Still, her evasiveness to my questions irks me and I drop my branch. I whip my head around and part my beak, hissing violently. I feel rather than see my body blaze and the effect on the girl is dramatic. She leaps back, the branch thumping down as she raises her arms to shield her face. A stream of nonsense spews from her mouth until I calm and the flames die down to flowing embers once more.

‘How do you know of me?’ I ask again.

‘Books,’ she whispers, ‘stories, myths. I came today, midsummer, because the legends say you return at the height of summer to be reborn. That’s what they say, anyway. So I came, with my small gift, to ask a wish.’

‘A wish?’ I bite back a chuckle. How humans can make up such nonsense I will never know. But, as I think on it, the idea of me being a wish granter isn’t too farfetched. Though, back then, the ‘wishes’ were granted with wisdom and good sense. I gather humans have embellished the idea somewhat.

‘Yes,’ she holds out the fig and bows her head. ‘Please, will you? If I help you build the nest, will you grant me a wish?’

I cock my head, considering her offer. Extra help would make the task easier and, if her wish is simple, then I could answer it the same way I used too.

‘Very well.’ I bob me head and point to the nest. ‘Place that branch at the back. Yew branches to the back, holly to the front and rowan either side.’

She nods and pulls the branch to the back as I drop my own at the front. Working in silence, we arrange the branches into a rough circular shape. We both settle down, her on her rump, me on my talons and take a breather.

‘That’s hard work,’ she says as she gulps water from a pouch at her side.

‘I suppose.’ I hadn’t really thought about it. The task had been done so many times that I’d forgotten if it was hard work.

‘So, is that it?’ she asks as she looks at the mess of wood.

I shake my head and point to a pile of resin chips. ‘No, now we must scatter the scents into it or it will not work.’

She takes a handful and places each chip into a crack in the nest. So careful with such a raw thing, so different from my own method of throwing them at random. With our combined efforts, we get through the pile until the nest smells of cloying scents.

‘It doesn’t look like much,’ she says as she walks around the nest. ‘Just looks like a pile of twigs.’

‘What did you expect, strands of gold and silver? Bedecked in jewels and fine silks?’ I laugh and jump into the nest, tearing the bottom with my talons. ‘It’s a nest, nothing more or less.’

‘And you? Are you the firebird?’

‘Do I look like one? Have you seen aught like me before?’ I ask snappishly.

‘I suppose you have to be then.’ She says with a shrug.

‘Well, then I am.’ I settle down and rest my head on the nest edge. ‘What’s your wish?’

‘To live forever.’ She mumbles.

I stare, wide eyed at this little human. Without thinking, I burst into laughter, flapping my wings against my side and shrieking to the sky.

Something thumps against my wing and I see the fig roll away. The girl sobs and curses colourfully.

‘You, you beast! You don’t understand.’

I pick up the fig between two talons and stare at it. ‘Forgive me, but I thought you asked for a wish, not a curse.’

‘I did.’ She scrubs the back of her hand across her eyes. ‘People have such small lives. There’s so much to see and do but, I can’t get it all done in my short life.’

‘And you think and extended life would help? Do you think stretching your life force out would aid in in your search for wonders?’

She nods.

‘Then you are wrong. Do you know how old I am?’ I ask, turning the fig in my talons, its juices trickling down my toes.

‘No. centuries old I guess.’ She says, sitting down.

‘No, I’m older, much older. I’m so old I do not know myself how old I am. That or I stopped counting long ago.’ I pop the fig into my beak, relishing the sweetness. ‘Hmm, nothing like a fig.’ I crunch the twigs beneath my feet as I lean over to stare at the girl. ‘So old, so weary. I have seen more than you can imagine many times over. Once, it was glorious, to see the first rise of the sun, the furious blast of volcanos, the rage of the earth. Then nothing surprised me anymore. I saw it all and it became dull.’

The girl sank her chin into her cupped hands and blew a sigh. ‘You make being long lived sound boring.’

‘It is boring.’ I cock my head as a thought trickles into my head. ‘But, one thing I can say for sure, meeting people was never dull. They had stories, such stories to explain the world. Sometimes they were tragic and sometimes, they were beautiful. But never boring.’

The girl hums and ahhs a bit before looking up. ‘Do you not make up stories?’

‘No. I have seen it all, there is no wonder.’ I whisper. ‘Stories are born of people’s imaginations and imagination is born of wonder lust.’

‘But, if people lived long enough-‘

I hiss, cutting her off. ‘Then nothing would be worth looking for because you know you have all the time in the world to see it. Because you have a finite life, you can see the wonder in the world. You can find the stories, make the stories. You can experience the world in its glory.’

She stares, wide eyed and stands slowly.

I shake my head. ‘I envy humans and their short lives. Short, but never small, never stagnant, like mine.’

The girl tip toes to my side and stretches out a hand. The gentle touch of her fingers on my wing calms me. I settle, letting her stroke my feathers.

‘They’re not hot at all.’ She says as she sits by me.

‘Only if I want them to be.’

For a moment, all is quiet except the wind around the mountain. The girl sits, her legs stretched out and her back against the nest, toying with a twig.

‘Will you still grant me a wish?’ she asks.

‘That depends on the wish.’

She tilts her head back and stares up at me, her flecked eyes sparkling. ‘I wish to have a feather, just one feather.’

‘A feather? Now that, I can give.’ I pluck a chest feather out and let it flutter onto her lap where it lies, glowing softly. ‘What purpose would it serve you?’

‘A reminder.’ She says, twirling the feather between her fingers. ‘To look for wonders. Perhaps, one day, I’ll return to this mountain.’

‘Oh?’

‘Yes, I will go, see the world. Then I’ll return and tell you all the stories I have.’

I chuckle and stand tall. ‘Then I will give you a gift. When you return to my mountain, when you have all the stories you want and seen what you wish to see, I will take you on a journey.’

‘What sort of journey?’ she asks as she gets up and stands away from the nest.

‘The longest and the shortest, the greatest and the smallest. The journey of a lifetime and of a moment.’

She snorts a laugh and shakes her head in a bemused fashion. ‘I don’t understand.’

‘You will understand when you return. Now, stand back.’ I raise my wings and spread my tail feathers. I tilt me head back and say one last thing. ‘Shield your eyes, dear child.’

The heat starts and the flames build from my breast and course through my body. The flames leap higher and bite until I can feel them no more. With a cry of both pain and elation, I feel the fire consume my body and all goes black.

When I awake, the girl is gone. My body feels fresh, new and rejuvenated. I flap my wings with joy and relish in the freedom of my young limbs. With a hop skip, I take to the skies and sing my praises to the world and begin my journey afresh.

Time passes and, though I am not old, my body suffered terribly in a storm. I feel weak as I beat my way to the mountain, to where I can renew my strength. It is a terrible thing to admit, to being caught in bad weather, to almost have the fires doused. It would have been embarrassing indeed to have fallen and only be returned to strength through the paltry heat of the sun.

But the mountain looms closer and I feel relief flood through my limbs. As I approach, I see a figure, bent and hobbling, making its way slowly up the mountain. I never thought in such a short time I would have another visitor. Surely it wasn’t time yet for the girl to return?

I land, clumsily, on the ledge, wondering how I could make my nest. I hadn’t prepared, hadn’t thought about it but, in the corner, by the back wall, lies a pile of branches; yew, rowan and holly. I start arranging them into the rough circle, completely engrossed in my task.

‘I did it. Every year, when I returned, I brought the branches and the resins. I carried them all, alone.’

The voice is old but musical. I turn and see the girl though a girl no more. Her back is bent, her once fiery hair grey with only a few wisps of pale orange to show its old colour. Wrinkles frame her face but her eyes, those jewelled eyes, sparkle brightly.

‘Thank you. You could not have known when I would return.’

She sat on a rock, her limbs shaking with the effort. ‘But I knew you would, one day.’

I dip my head and go about my task. ‘How old are you?’ I ask.

‘Seventy six. Since the day you left, I have travelled the world. I became a natural scientist; I’ve seen so many creatures and plants, so many wonders.’

I cock my head. ‘Tell me your story.’

And she does. She tells me of the marvels she’d witnessed. From the tiny worlds beyond the sight of normal eyes to the mystery of the ocean depths. I listen, enraptured, to her story about ants and their strange social mind. I’d never thought of ants as smart, I’d never witnessed them work. My inner eye flies across the expanse of space as she describes stars and planets, things I knew nothing of.

And for the first time in many years, I feel my heart soar with excitement of these discoveries. I devour her words, ensorcelled by all she says and more and as I build that nest, I feel the fire within burn with a brightness I had forgotten. I had forgotten what it was to learn something new, to hear of the unknown. I think I could be content with just that.

But she surprises me further, this wonderful human.

‘And even after all these years,’ she said as she takes a seat on the nest. ‘All I have seen, it is nothing but a portion of what people discover. They always go looking, wanting to understand the world they live on. I think that is the greatest gift, to see further and to have that urge to know.’ Her eyes find mine and tears well up in them. ‘I kept your words in my mind, firebird, and now I understand. If it were not for the finiteness of our lives, we wouldn’t be able to do half of what we’re capable of.’

She takes the feather I gave her from her pocket and holds it up. I’m surprised; it hadn’t faded. ‘I kept this with me, on every adventure. Now, I think, I am done adventuring.’

I snort. ‘Surely not? You are so full of life, human.’

‘Nay,’ she chuckles and coughs harshly. ‘Not for long, I’m afraid. In spite of our, cleverness, there’s a few things we cannot do much for, yet.’

‘You are sick?’ I ask in bewilderment. She doesn’t look ill, doesn’t sound ill. I can’t smell anything on her. Perhaps it is something I cannot see.

‘I am. My insides fight against me. The doctors want to start me on some foul medicine that will maybe make my life longer but I don’t think it’s worth it.’ She stands and places a knobbly hand on either side of my head. I lean forward, letting my forehead rest against hers.

‘I want to thank you, for setting me on the path to adventure and to see you once more before my end, it is my greatest joy.’ Tears flow freely down her cheek and they drop onto my beak.

‘I am glad.’ I whisper. ‘That the sight of me brings you such joy.’

‘And sadness. Much sadness.’ She pulls away and looks me in the eye once more. ‘For I don’t think I’ll see you again.’

‘No, you will not.’ I say in a breath.

‘Then this is It.’ she gathers herself and her stick and stands in front of me. ‘Once I see you off, I’ll return to my home and to the end of my adventures.’

And as she stands there, with those sparkling eyes and determined stance, I can see courage.

I spread my wings wide and stand back. ‘Come. I promised, long ago, I would take you on an adventure.’

‘Where will it be to?’ She asks as she joins me in that nest.

‘To a place we all go and to where no-one can go.’

‘And how far is it?’

I enclose her in my wings. ‘It is a great distance that takes only a step to get to.’

The fire builds in me.

‘How long will it take us?’ she asks, her voice fading into a soft whisper.

Searing heat gathers and surrounds us and fills us. A scream of pain tears from our mouths that turns into cries of elation. Before it all changes, I whisper.

‘A moment, and a lifetime.’

Description
body div#devskin0 hr { }

So weary. Every flap of a wing, every dip of the head is tiring. The weight of years on my back makes me wonder how I can fly at all but fly I must, fly to that retched mountain with its ensnaring scents of frankincense and myrrh. The embers on my feathers do nothing for the chilling wind against my face. I almost wish the tendrils of sky could blow the heart of the flames out, to let me feel real.

A bird shouldn’t burn and live. It shouldn’t carry the warmth of a sun in its breast as if it were nothing more than another feather. For millennia, I have carried this roaring heat. From one end of the world to the other and yet it never seems to get any lighter.

As I approach the sheer face of the mountain, I wonder how long it will remain the place I return to. It has changed, become smoother with time, less jagged and forbidding. It is now just a mountain, like any other. The people below, who I’ve watched grow from mindless animals to creatures of thought, have ceased to remember its purpose. Where once there were offerings of gold, jewels and scents, there is nought but bare ground.

Or so I had come to believe but there, standing on the ledge of my eternal home, is a human. I spiral high, trying to focus my rheumy eyes on it. Female, I think, with long, fire-gold hair. Young, maybe, perhaps just out of childhood.

I circle closer, the air ruffling my stiff plumage. Yes, definitely young, anxious. She looks around at the branch strewn ledge and the blackened rocks. Almost reverently, she picks up a shard of raw glass – made when there was once sand on the rocks – and turns it in her hands.

Folding my wings, I plummet and sweep down in spectacular fashion, landing with my aching wings spread wide. The feathers whisper in the breeze, embers flutter around my head and body as I stand in aged splendour.

The glass shatters as she whirls and her eyes meet mine. What stunning eyes, though they are wide with fear. Golden orbs flecked with emerald and sapphire, almost as spectacular as my own opalescent eyes.

The pain in my wings becomes too much to bear. I fold them, creakily, over my back. Still the human female stares, her eyes flicking over my body: the crested head, hooked beak, down to the powerful talons and around, no doubt, to the long, elegant tail. I bring my head down, a painful movement, until my eye’s level with hers.

‘What are you doing on my mountain?’ the voice sounds aged and cracked and it takes me a moment to realise the voice is mine. I had remained silent for so long, I’d almost forgotten what I sounded like.

The human gulps and takes a small step back. It’s a good thing I landed between her and the ledge for she probably wouldn’t have noticed it in her effort to get away.

‘Well,’ I say after a moment of silence, ‘do you not have a tongue?’

She nods then a foolish smile spreads on her lips. ‘You’re much bigger than I thought.’ Her voice, soft, melodious, sounds pleasant to my old ears.

‘Did you expect a songbird?’ I snap, not in anger, merely to see how she will react.

‘N-no,’ she shakes her head vigorously, ‘maybe eagle sized. And with a longer neck. You look-‘

‘Like a predator?’ I huff and shuffle along the ledge to the pile of branches I had amassed over the course of a year. ‘Of course, I must eat. Meat is best.’

The girl makes a noise, not unlike a sigh and something drops to the floor. I look over my shoulder and see a fruit roll on the rocks, its purple skin dull even with the sun on it; a fig. I do enjoy figs, their soft, sweet flesh so unlike the usual fair of salty meat and tough sinew. My favourite treat, a treat I had not tasted in many centuries. A treat I had not received since the last humans came seeking me.

Pausing in my musings, I turn around and stare at the fruit. ‘Do you not wish to eat that? It is a shame, to waste good food.’

‘I brought it, for you.’ She mumbles as she picks the fig up and brushes the dirt of it. Rolling the fruit in her hands, she speaks again, more to the fruit than me.

‘I read that if you wanted your favour, then to bring a gift. The book said gold or jewels or incense or maybe a basket of figs but,’ she sits down heavily, still rolling the fruit in her hands, ‘I can’t afford gold or jewels and I wouldn’t know what incense to bring. I don’t even have enough for a basket of figs, so I brought one. I don’t think I will get a big favour, just a small one but a small one is all I want.’

I tap my talons off the rock. This was the first time I had had any visitor for centuries; even in those days, it was old men seeking fortunes or wealthy women seeking men but never a person just out of her childhood. What could one such as she possibly want from me? Instead of asking her favour, I turn back to my task of building the retched nest. I tuck a branch under my wing and hobble over to the cluster I had made the week before.

‘Here, make yourself useful and grab that branch over there,’ I say, pointing to a thick bough of yew with my beak.

Without a word, the girl picks up the branch and starts dragging it behind her.

‘You are young, how do you know of me? I thought I had gone from the memory of man centuries ago.’ A half-truth but a useful one. ‘Do you not fear me?’

The girl pauses and wipes a hand across her brow. ‘No, why should I? I came seeking you so why would I fear what I seek? Besides, no-one would believe me if I ran back down the mountain shouting that the firebird is some giant eagle.’

I shrug my wings. Young creatures seem much bolder and this one is no exception. Still, her evasiveness to my questions irks me and I drop my branch. I whip my head around and part my beak, hissing violently. I feel rather than see my body blaze and the effect on the girl is dramatic. She leaps back, the branch thumping down as she raises her arms to shield her face. A stream of nonsense spews from her mouth until I calm and the flames die down to flowing embers once more.

‘How do you know of me?’ I ask again.

‘Books,’ she whispers, ‘stories, myths. I came today, midsummer, because the legends say you return at the height of summer to be reborn. That’s what they say, anyway. So I came, with my small gift, to ask a wish.’

‘A wish?’ I bite back a chuckle. How humans can make up such nonsense I will never know. But, as I think on it, the idea of me being a wish granter isn’t too farfetched. Though, back then, the ‘wishes’ were granted with wisdom and good sense. I gather humans have embellished the idea somewhat.

‘Yes,’ she holds out the fig and bows her head. ‘Please, will you? If I help you build the nest, will you grant me a wish?’

I cock my head, considering her offer. Extra help would make the task easier and, if her wish is simple, then I could answer it the same way I used too.

‘Very well.’ I bob me head and point to the nest. ‘Place that branch at the back. Yew branches to the back, holly to the front and rowan either side.’

She nods and pulls the branch to the back as I drop my own at the front. Working in silence, we arrange the branches into a rough circular shape. We both settle down, her on her rump, me on my talons and take a breather.

‘That’s hard work,’ she says as she gulps water from a pouch at her side.

‘I suppose.’ I hadn’t really thought about it. The task had been done so many times that I’d forgotten if it was hard work.

‘So, is that it?’ she asks as she looks at the mess of wood.

I shake my head and point to a pile of resin chips. ‘No, now we must scatter the scents into it or it will not work.’

She takes a handful and places each chip into a crack in the nest. So careful with such a raw thing, so different from my own method of throwing them at random. With our combined efforts, we get through the pile until the nest smells of cloying scents.

‘It doesn’t look like much,’ she says as she walks around the nest. ‘Just looks like a pile of twigs.’

‘What did you expect, strands of gold and silver? Bedecked in jewels and fine silks?’ I laugh and jump into the nest, tearing the bottom with my talons. ‘It’s a nest, nothing more or less.’

‘And you? Are you the firebird?’

‘Do I look like one? Have you seen aught like me before?’ I ask snappishly.

‘I suppose you have to be then.’ She says with a shrug.

‘Well, then I am.’ I settle down and rest my head on the nest edge. ‘What’s your wish?’

‘To live forever.’ She mumbles.

I stare, wide eyed at this little human. Without thinking, I burst into laughter, flapping my wings against my side and shrieking to the sky.

Something thumps against my wing and I see the fig roll away. The girl sobs and curses colourfully.

‘You, you beast! You don’t understand.’

I pick up the fig between two talons and stare at it. ‘Forgive me, but I thought you asked for a wish, not a curse.’

‘I did.’ She scrubs the back of her hand across her eyes. ‘People have such small lives. There’s so much to see and do but, I can’t get it all done in my short life.’

‘And you think and extended life would help? Do you think stretching your life force out would aid in in your search for wonders?’

She nods.

‘Then you are wrong. Do you know how old I am?’ I ask, turning the fig in my talons, its juices trickling down my toes.

‘No. centuries old I guess.’ She says, sitting down.

‘No, I’m older, much older. I’m so old I do not know myself how old I am. That or I stopped counting long ago.’ I pop the fig into my beak, relishing the sweetness. ‘Hmm, nothing like a fig.’ I crunch the twigs beneath my feet as I lean over to stare at the girl. ‘So old, so weary. I have seen more than you can imagine many times over. Once, it was glorious, to see the first rise of the sun, the furious blast of volcanos, the rage of the earth. Then nothing surprised me anymore. I saw it all and it became dull.’

The girl sank her chin into her cupped hands and blew a sigh. ‘You make being long lived sound boring.’

‘It is boring.’ I cock my head as a thought trickles into my head. ‘But, one thing I can say for sure, meeting people was never dull. They had stories, such stories to explain the world. Sometimes they were tragic and sometimes, they were beautiful. But never boring.’

The girl hums and ahhs a bit before looking up. ‘Do you not make up stories?’

‘No. I have seen it all, there is no wonder.’ I whisper. ‘Stories are born of people’s imaginations and imagination is born of wonder lust.’

‘But, if people lived long enough-‘

I hiss, cutting her off. ‘Then nothing would be worth looking for because you know you have all the time in the world to see it. Because you have a finite life, you can see the wonder in the world. You can find the stories, make the stories. You can experience the world in its glory.’

She stares, wide eyed and stands slowly.

I shake my head. ‘I envy humans and their short lives. Short, but never small, never stagnant, like mine.’

The girl tip toes to my side and stretches out a hand. The gentle touch of her fingers on my wing calms me. I settle, letting her stroke my feathers.

‘They’re not hot at all.’ She says as she sits by me.

‘Only if I want them to be.’

For a moment, all is quiet except the wind around the mountain. The girl sits, her legs stretched out and her back against the nest, toying with a twig.

‘Will you still grant me a wish?’ she asks.

‘That depends on the wish.’

She tilts her head back and stares up at me, her flecked eyes sparkling. ‘I wish to have a feather, just one feather.’

‘A feather? Now that, I can give.’ I pluck a chest feather out and let it flutter onto her lap where it lies, glowing softly. ‘What purpose would it serve you?’

‘A reminder.’ She says, twirling the feather between her fingers. ‘To look for wonders. Perhaps, one day, I’ll return to this mountain.’

‘Oh?’

‘Yes, I will go, see the world. Then I’ll return and tell you all the stories I have.’

I chuckle and stand tall. ‘Then I will give you a gift. When you return to my mountain, when you have all the stories you want and seen what you wish to see, I will take you on a journey.’

‘What sort of journey?’ she asks as she gets up and stands away from the nest.

‘The longest and the shortest, the greatest and the smallest. The journey of a lifetime and of a moment.’

She snorts a laugh and shakes her head in a bemused fashion. ‘I don’t understand.’

‘You will understand when you return. Now, stand back.’ I raise my wings and spread my tail feathers. I tilt me head back and say one last thing. ‘Shield your eyes, dear child.’

The heat starts and the flames build from my breast and course through my body. The flames leap higher and bite until I can feel them no more. With a cry of both pain and elation, I feel the fire consume my body and all goes black.

When I awake, the girl is gone. My body feels fresh, new and rejuvenated. I flap my wings with joy and relish in the freedom of my young limbs. With a hop skip, I take to the skies and sing my praises to the world and begin my journey afresh.

Time passes and, though I am not old, my body suffered terribly in a storm. I feel weak as I beat my way to the mountain, to where I can renew my strength. It is a terrible thing to admit, to being caught in bad weather, to almost have the fires doused. It would have been embarrassing indeed to have fallen and only be returned to strength through the paltry heat of the sun.

But the mountain looms closer and I feel relief flood through my limbs. As I approach, I see a figure, bent and hobbling, making its way slowly up the mountain. I never thought in such a short time I would have another visitor. Surely it wasn’t time yet for the girl to return?

I land, clumsily, on the ledge, wondering how I could make my nest. I hadn’t prepared, hadn’t thought about it but, in the corner, by the back wall, lies a pile of branches; yew, rowan and holly. I start arranging them into the rough circle, completely engrossed in my task.

‘I did it. Every year, when I returned, I brought the branches and the resins. I carried them all, alone.’

The voice is old but musical. I turn and see the girl though a girl no more. Her back is bent, her once fiery hair grey with only a few wisps of pale orange to show its old colour. Wrinkles frame her face but her eyes, those jewelled eyes, sparkle brightly.

‘Thank you. You could not have known when I would return.’

She sat on a rock, her limbs shaking with the effort. ‘But I knew you would, one day.’

I dip my head and go about my task. ‘How old are you?’ I ask.

‘Seventy six. Since the day you left, I have travelled the world. I became a natural scientist; I’ve seen so many creatures and plants, so many wonders.’

I cock my head. ‘Tell me your story.’

And she does. She tells me of the marvels she’d witnessed. From the tiny worlds beyond the sight of normal eyes to the mystery of the ocean depths. I listen, enraptured, to her story about ants and their strange social mind. I’d never thought of ants as smart, I’d never witnessed them work. My inner eye flies across the expanse of space as she describes stars and planets, things I knew nothing of.

And for the first time in many years, I feel my heart soar with excitement of these discoveries. I devour her words, ensorcelled by all she says and more and as I build that nest, I feel the fire within burn with a brightness I had forgotten. I had forgotten what it was to learn something new, to hear of the unknown. I think I could be content with just that.

But she surprises me further, this wonderful human.

‘And even after all these years,’ she said as she takes a seat on the nest. ‘All I have seen, it is nothing but a portion of what people discover. They always go looking, wanting to understand the world they live on. I think that is the greatest gift, to see further and to have that urge to know.’ Her eyes find mine and tears well up in them. ‘I kept your words in my mind, firebird, and now I understand. If it were not for the finiteness of our lives, we wouldn’t be able to do half of what we’re capable of.’

She takes the feather I gave her from her pocket and holds it up. I’m surprised; it hadn’t faded. ‘I kept this with me, on every adventure. Now, I think, I am done adventuring.’

I snort. ‘Surely not? You are so full of life, human.’

‘Nay,’ she chuckles and coughs harshly. ‘Not for long, I’m afraid. In spite of our, cleverness, there’s a few things we cannot do much for, yet.’

‘You are sick?’ I ask in bewilderment. She doesn’t look ill, doesn’t sound ill. I can’t smell anything on her. Perhaps it is something I cannot see.

‘I am. My insides fight against me. The doctors want to start me on some foul medicine that will maybe make my life longer but I don’t think it’s worth it.’ She stands and places a knobbly hand on either side of my head. I lean forward, letting my forehead rest against hers.

‘I want to thank you, for setting me on the path to adventure and to see you once more before my end, it is my greatest joy.’ Tears flow freely down her cheek and they drop onto my beak.

‘I am glad.’ I whisper. ‘That the sight of me brings you such joy.’

‘And sadness. Much sadness.’ She pulls away and looks me in the eye once more. ‘For I don’t think I’ll see you again.’

‘No, you will not.’ I say in a breath.

‘Then this is It.’ she gathers herself and her stick and stands in front of me. ‘Once I see you off, I’ll return to my home and to the end of my adventures.’

And as she stands there, with those sparkling eyes and determined stance, I can see courage.

I spread my wings wide and stand back. ‘Come. I promised, long ago, I would take you on an adventure.’

‘Where will it be to?’ She asks as she joins me in that nest.

‘To a place we all go and to where no-one can go.’

‘And how far is it?’

I enclose her in my wings. ‘It is a great distance that takes only a step to get to.’

The fire builds in me.

‘How long will it take us?’ she asks, her voice fading into a soft whisper.

Searing heat gathers and surrounds us and fills us. A scream of pain tears from our mouths that turns into cries of elation. Before it all changes, I whisper.

‘A moment, and a lifetime.’