Level IV Winners (Long Form )

Falcon Margaret
Rose C.
Durham, NC

Margaret pulled herself upright, holding onto the wall. She reached for her stick and began crossing the courtyard to meet her brother. She was glad for the Duke's protection that allowed her to stay within the castle's walls, instead of begging in the village outside. Though perhaps she should thank her brother for his protection; the Duke likely didn't know she existed. And supposing he did, Margaret doubted he would care about his youngest falcon-boy's crippled sister.

"Hoy, Margaret!" Margaret looked up to see her brother, fourteen-year-old Thomas. "I climbed a tree after chicks today!"

Margaret steadied herself on her stick as Thomas ran up. "How many were there?" she asked. New falcons to train meant more work for all falconers, but she loved seeing the fluffy chicks grow into sleek, deadly hunters.

"Three," said Thomas. He was tall and strong, unlike Margaret. "Two females, one male. Peregrines." His grin broadened.

"I bet our Queen Elizabeth hasn't a better falcon-boy than you!" said Margaret.

"Yes — pity she shan't hire me," joked Thomas. "But I couldn't work better falcons, never. These new chicks — they're beauties. Well, two are."

"Two?" asked Margaret quickly.

Thomas scowled. "One's a runt," he said, "and it's got somethin' wrong with a wing…"

"What'll they do with it?"

"Likely get rid of it," said Thomas. "Kill it — "

Margaret's eyes darkened angrily. "That's not fair!"

"It won't fly well," protested Thomas. "It's not good enough for the Duke's mews — "

"What if I were a falcon in your mews?" Margaret cried. "Wouldya kill me 'cause I wasn't good enough?"

Thomas looked at her, leaning on her stick, a small thin girl with her left leg twisted and shortened. "That's different."

"No, it's not!" Margaret sighed. "I want that chick, Thomas. Get it for me."

Thomas frowned. "I could try…"

"Yes," said Margaret. "Just 'cause something's small and different doesn't mean it's no good."

Steel Wings

Her face was twisted in a frown as she struck the butt of her stick against the ground, demonstrating her frustration.

Thomas sighed, stepping forward to quickly hug his sister. "Of course it doesn't. I'll get the chick for you, Margaret, don't worry." At that moment, the castle's enormous bell tower signaled the end of afternoon luncheon. Thomas pulled away from his sister, tousling her hair slightly as he did.

"I have to go. The falconers are meeting in the orchard this afternoon and I have to bring them the new chicks. Be careful while I'm gone!" He shouted the last bit from across the courtyard, having been slowly back-pedaling the whole time.

Margaret waved goodbye to her brother as he disappeared around a corner, then with, practiced skill, began her own hobbling journey out of the courtyard. It was a very nice day, and there was nothing to do this afternoon. She decided to take a stroll through the forest.

It took several minutes for Margaret to get outside the castle walls. She wasn't really sure how long it was exactly. She'd remembered to inform the guards of her departure, in case Thomas came looking for her, and now she was stretched out against the moss-covered bark of an alder tree. The world around her was tinted green as light trickled through the leaves overhead, and the warm air was giving her a pleasant drowsy feeling.

Margaret's eyes had just begun to droop when a small snap caused her to peer up into the leafy canopy. She had to shade her eyes to see past the glaring sunlight, but even then it took her a moment to make out the thing above her. She smiled slightly to herself as she realized it was a falcon, but it wasn't like any falcon she had ever seen. The sunlight glinted off its surface harshly, leaving beads of white in her vision, and the bird's piercing eyes seemed to be… glowing… as it looked at her. Any other detail was silhouetted by the sun.

Margaret tilted her head slightly, examining the creature. To her surprise, it mimicked her movement, glowing eyes still locked on her.

Margaret thought this hilarious, and started giggling slightly, eliciting a confused response from the bird as it shuffled back and forth slightly on the limb, head bobbing.

"You must be from the Duke's mews." Margaret called up to it. No wild bird would be this comfortable with a person. She stood up slowly, using the tree's trunk to pick herself up. Still watching the bird, she jammed her stick firmly under her arm and hobbled over to stand closer to it. As if copying her movement again, the odd bird fluttered down a couple branches. When it moved, Margaret noticed that it seemed a bit stiff.

"Are you hurt?" She asked in a concerned voice. "If you are, I know someone who can fix you right up!" Margaret reached a hand out tentatively toward the bird, and it leapt down to the branch directly above her. The branch sunk dramatically when the bird lighted on it, but the strange weight of the thing wasn't what caught Margaret's eyes. It was the creature's feathers, or lack thereof. It seemed to be coated completely in some sort of metal, shiny and reflective like a polished sword.

The thing leaned down to investigate her now, its eyes a luminous blue color. At this close distance, Margaret could hear a soft humming sound coming from the bird, smoother even than the bees that could be heard on a warm afternoon like this.

Pushing all of her fear aside, Margaret reached her hand the rest of the way out, placing two fingers gently against the bird's neck. A small gasp escaped her. It was >metal, and quite cool at that.

"Are you some sort of witch's toy?" She asked softly, stroking her hand over the coarse metal strips that made up the bird's feathers. They even bent slightly under the pressure from her hand. Like a normal feather would.

At her question, the creature's head tilted slightly, as if from confusion, and two tiny metal lids blinked over its eyes. It shuffled around on the branch a bit, causing it to shake.

Margaret opened her mouth to speak again but was cut off as a voice called out through the trees. "Margaret!" It was her brother, Thomas. "Margaret, where are you?" His shouting startled the bird, and it jerked up so quickly that it sent the branch it was perched on shaking wildly. Margaret, quickly started stroking its neck again, making shushing sounds to try and get the creature to calm down. It slipped off of the branch and hit the ground with a thump, a shriek erupting from its shining beak. It sounded like the cry of any ordinary falcon she'd heard, but there was something different about. A kind of mysterious oddity that gave her chills.

It staggered back onto its legs in flurry, opened its wings, and lifted off.

"Wait!" Margaret called out, hobbling forward and reaching her arms out toward the bird. "It's alright!" Somehow, she was able to grab a hold of the creature's leg, the metal icy underneath her touch. She was surprised to feel her foot leave the ground, and looked down at it as the powerful creature's wings sent the surrounding leaves swirling off of their branches. Margaret heard herself scream, and suddenly Thomas appeared in the clearing a few feet below.

He was speechless, gaping up at her in utter confusion and disbelief. Thinking quickly, Margaret tried to let go of the bird, but its talons had caught in the sleeve of her dress, clamped down hard onto it. "Thomas!" She screamed, and her brother snapped out of his trance. With strength gifted of adrenaline he vaulted up a tree, leaping off of it to grab his sister's legs. To his dismay, the sleeve of her dress didn't tear from the weight, and he was left dangling as the bird lifted higher, rising above the forest canopy now. The siblings looked up in fear at the bird as the creases in its body began to glow bright blue, the humming growing gradually louder.

Another sound, like a mixture of wind and scraping steel, filled the air; and in a blinding flash of blue, they were gone. The forest was left quiet and peaceful once again.

Margaret felt suddenly cold, as if it were winter time. Her head throbbed and her vision was still blurred from the blinding flash she'd just seen, but other than that, she appeared to be fine. At first she thought something might be wrong with her ears, as she could hear a constant, unwavering buzzing noise. After a few seconds, however, it began to gradually soften, the sound becoming a deep wobble as it slowed. As her vision cleared ever-so-slightly, Margaret realized she was lying in some kind of small room, lined with steel and ominous blue lights, much like the ones on that strange bird.

The bird! She remembered it suddenly then, looking around. She could just make out the shape of it a foot or two away, perched in the center of the room. Well, it wasn't a room really. It was much too small for that. It was large enough to sit up in, however, and she slowly managed to push herself to a sitting position.

Margaret heard a pained groan and felt her brother stir beside her. He squirmed around in pain for a bit, as if trying to orient himself like she had, but Margaret wasn't really paying attention. The buzzing sound had stopped now, and she could hear voices.

"…is impossible! What do you mean we 'picked up something'?!" She heard footsteps storming about just outside, a hollow clanging on metal.

"See for yourself, Professor! There's something else in there. It looks like a biological mass of some sort." After that, it was quiet. Several seconds passed by before the silence was broken by a thoughtful humming sound from the first voice.

"It's too large to properly read on the scanner… You'll have to go in and look."

"What?!" The indignant shout made Margaret jump. "Wha… What if it's dangerous?!"

"Oh please!" The first voice scoffed, "That drone was in 16th century England. What are you afraid of, a rabid dog?" The comment was followed by a heavy sigh, and Margaret heard footsteps approaching the tiny chamber they were crammed in. A hand grabbed her arm, squeezing it, and Margaret looked over to see Thomas looking anxiously back at her. He had been listening as well it seemed.

There was a hiss, followed by a loud clang that echoed around the tiny chamber. Suddenly, a section of smooth wall fell away, swinging outward like a door. Margaret held her breathe and gripped her brother's hand as she stared at the opening, waiting.

After what seemed like ages, a man's head poked warily through the entrance. His eyes immediately locked on the two siblings curled up in one corner of the chamber. A long moment passed as his mouth slowly fell open.

"Professor! It… It's a couple of kids!"

Only a few minutes later, Margaret and Thomas were both seated on examination tables, staring around in a mixture of confusion and awe at the room around them. Margaret watched warily as the two men, who had introduced themselves as professors, went to work sticking little blue pads on her exposed skin. They seemed nice enough, having frantically checked over Margaret and her brother several times to make sure they weren't injured in any way, and the younger one had been apologizing repeatedly ever since he had helped them out of that tiny white chamber. But they still made her uneasy. Even their appearance was foreign to her. They strode around with long, white coats flowing behind them, whiter than any cloth she'd ever seen. No one had explained where they were, however, or how they had gotten there. Margaret shifted her eyes around the room again.

Everything was white here. Every surface was smooth and shiny. Little glowing squares could be seen all over the walls, with strange, colored pictures flashing across them. It appeared as though the men were attaching some of these contraptions to Margaret and her brother.

One of the men, the one that had found them in the little chamber, looked up at her, his hands still working on the little pads he was sticking to her. He smiled, a soothing action, and started talking to her.

"I'm so sorry, once again. I had no intention of bringing you here…" Margaret felt like rolling her eyes. She'd lost count of his apologies, but she decided to ignore this fact, only focusing on what he was saying. "When the drone started to pick up on the vibrations of footsteps," he continued, "its defense mechanism for escape was triggered. We weren't expecting you to… well, grab it, like you did." He chuckled quietly, as if it was some sort of small joke.

Margaret had almost no idea what he was talking about, but she managed to piece together that he was referring to the strange bird from the forest. She'd been too frightened and confused to think about it, but now that she had slowed down a bit, it made sense that the bird had brought them here, wherever they were. She was about to ask that exact question when the man spoke up again.

"Boy is this exciting, though!" He said, sounding absolutely giddy. "What was it like? I mean, going through ti-"

"Come now, Anderson, you'll talk their ears off carrying on like that! I'm sure they have questions of their own." Margaret turned toward the other professor, whose voice had been the source of the interruption. He was much older than Anderson, with a frizzy white hair and a thick mustache. To her, he appeared to be some kind of strange clown. He smiled knowingly at her. "So…?" He asked.

Thomas was the first to speak. "Where are we?" He blurted out, in a far more distressed tone than he likely intended. Margaret had the exact same question, and her eyes betrayed her anxiety. The professor still kept his warm expression, however.

"The question," he began, "is more when than where." This confused the two siblings immensely, and it was apparent on their faces. The professor's smile broadened. After several seconds, Margaret spoke up again, her voice small and enquiring.

"Sir… What exactly do you mean…?" Her voice was shaky, but she managed to get the whole question out. The professor leaned forward, placing a hand comfortingly on Margaret's shoulder. This startled her, but she forced herself not to move.

"My dear," The man said, his bushy facial hair moving like some kind of animal as he spoke, "you and your brother have arrived in the year 2553…"

It was silent for a long moment after that. Margaret stared at the Professor, wide-eyed. Had she heard him right? She was unable to speak, her mouth just hung open slightly. Luckily, her brother was more indignant than dumbfounded.

"… What? Sir, what sort of witchcraft are you speaking of?" His voice was a shaky mixture of anger and anxiety, but the Professor just chuckled in response.

"No, dear boy, not witchcraft. Science. Your concept of witchcraft is nothing but myth and fairy tales, outdated at best." He laughed again, the two siblings gaping at him. "You see, if my assumption is correct, the bird you saw is one of our many drones used to record important events in history. It was on an assignment that should have lasted at least 15 years, but according to our data, it has only been in your time for just under 6." All of this was going right over their heads, but the Professor continued to ramble. Glancing over to Anderson, Margaret received an apologetic smile, but he didn't seem to be stopping the Professor any time soon.

"You see," the older man went on, "Our birds are programmed with a self-preservation sequence. At any sign of danger, they will abort mission and return here. I can only assume that you startle it." He looked directly at them now, bushy eyebrows wriggling as he looked back and forth between Margaret and her brother. "And so, I must enquire. Did you do anything at all to harm our device?"

Margaret's head was still swimming from all of the unintelligible mess the Professor had just spouted. It took her several minutes to register what he'd said, but her brow furrowed in indignation. "No! I didn't do anything to your bird! I… I don't even remember why it flew off!"

The Professor smirked slightly, crossing his arms behind his back. "If it flew off, how did you end up here, may I ask?" His eyes glinted in a boastful manner, causing Margaret to grit her teeth. She opened her mouth to retort, but Anderson spoke up then.

"Come on, professor. They're just kids, why would they run around attacking birds?" He smiled at her again, and Margaret felt her own mouth curl up in a small smile. The Professor, however, was not convinced.

"Do not be so naive, Mr. Anderson. You know as well as I how children can be." He said, giving his assistant a piercing look. Thomas spoke up then, his voice dripping with indignation.

"I would never harm a bird! Not on my life! I help care for all of the falcons in the Duke's mews!" Thomas' hands were clenched tight, and his eyes had a fierce glow in them. The Professor seemed taken aback by his outburst, but quickly composed himself. Anderson was grinning cheekily as the Professor turned away.

"Very well then." The old man blurted out. "I was merely asking."

At that moment, Anderson gave a startled sound, something like a yell, and Margaret whipped her head around to look. He was staring at a bag lying on one of the white tables. Margaret recognized it as Thomas' leather satchel. He always kept the thing with him.

"Something moved in there!" Anderson practically squeaked, his eyes locked on the satchel. The Professor stepped over cautiously, picking up the bag's main flap and peering inside.

"Well, hello. What do we have here?" He mused, reaching a hand in and gently pulling out a tiny grey form.

"Don't hurt it!" Margaret screamed suddenly, nearly springing off the table. Andseron, put a hand on her shoulder, and the Professor made a clicking sound with his tongue, looking the little goshawk chick over. He touched the little animal's defective wing gently, extending it slightly.

"Don't worry, my dear. I'm not going to hurt him. I must ask, however, what are you doing with this little fellow?"

"It belongs to the Duke. I found it in a nest earlier today, along with two others." This seemed to satisfy the Professor, as he said nothing for a while, only continuing to examine the bird.

"A bird like this would be of any use to any falconer. The right wing is sadly underdeveloped."

"That's why we took it!" Margaret blurted out. The Professor looked up at her curiously, one bushy eyebrow raised. "They were going to kill it…" Margaret finished, more quietly this time.

"Well that's not good at all." The Professor grumbled, his bushy brow furrowed to the point that it obscured his eyes. "I think I can fix that." He turned suddenly, heading toward the wall behind him. To Margaret's surprise, the white surface moved away slowly, as if moving from the man's path. He stepped through, calling back over his shoulder as the wall slid closed again. "Make them comfortable, Anderson, and prepare for their departure. I won't be long."

As the door closed, Margaret felt like jumping up and sprinting after him. What was he going to the poor chick? Anderson patted her shoulder again, smiling comfortingly.

"Don't worry, he'll be back soon. Come on, I'll get you some food while we wait."

The food was… interesting. At first neither of the siblings had wanted to even taste it. The large clumps of multi-colored bread-like material just made their stomachs turn. Once they had been coaxed into trying it, however, both were pleasantly surprised. The little loafs — which Anderson called "Insta-Bars" — tasted delicious. Not even the Duke's highly trained chefs made food that tasted as fantastic. Every bar had a different flavor, with every flavor Margaret had ever tasted and more.

Strangely, almost as soon as they'd finished the meal, the Professor came strolling back in. In his hands, he held the tiny chick, but Margaret was less focused on the bird itself than its wing. Her eyes stretched wide at it. Something was sprouting from where its wing should have been. It looked similar to the strange metal bird she had seen in the forest.

"Here she is." The Professor said, beaming as he held the bird up on display. The little creature made several squeaking noises, peering around herself. The little metal wing wasn't sprouting from her side, but instead strapped to her by a small harness. It moved exactly with her other wing, the shining surface the only thing giving away its manufactured nature.

"What… What is it?" Margaret asked quietly. The Professor brought the little bird down closer to his chest, petting its neck gently with a finger.

"Your little chick was born with some sort of wing defect. I'd have to perform some tests to deduce what exactly the problem is. Due to the nature of our facility, however, I was able to put together the necessary equipment for a replacement wing." The Professor lowered his hand closer to Margaret, nodding for her to pet the bird. Margaret obliged, running her hand gently over the bird: over its head, down its neck, and eventually cautiously over the hard, cold wing. A smile spread across her lips, as the bird chirped happily at her attention.

"Professor, the machine is ready." At Anderson's voice, both Margaret and the Professor looked up, and the older man gave a small smile down to her. "I'll take care of her." He said, giving Margaret a pat on the shoulder. "You'd better head home."

She gave him a thankful smile before turning toward Anderson. Thomas helped her hobble over to him. As they neared, Anderson gave a curious look down at Margaret's injured leg.

"We could fix that too you know." He said matter-of-factly. Margaret just shook her head however.

"No, I can manage on my own. I have to work for two of us now." She looked back at the bird in the Professor's hands then, smiling again.

Anderson ushered them into a small white room before, closing a glass door after they had passed through. He started fiddling with some contraption just out of site, and suddenly the floor started to glow brightly. Margaret gripped her brother's hand tightly, peering out of the glass at the Professor. He smiled at her, nodding, and the bird watched intently from his hand.

"Be safe." He said, and then there was a bright flash, the same blue as they'd seen from that metal bird before all of this started.

Then, they went home.