Jovari the Blue

Chapter 4: Just a Glimpse

Somewhere Over The Southern United States

Jovari ignored the strain on his wings, pushing himself past his limits. He flanked King Talon on the right. They'd set a relentless pace. No, Talon had set a relentless pace.

The initial leg of their journey had been the hardest. Finding ways to communicate with humans, learn the geography of a new world, navigate it. Most people didn't use paper maps anymore, apparently—which was preposterous—because they relied on the tiny hand-held devices called phones for internet and GPS. Things that were absolutely foreign to him. He'd only gotten a taste of this world last time he'd been here. That hadn't prepared him for this.

Talon was adapting surprisingly well, even if he couldn't reach Claire's mind. There was a barrier of some sort. Spiderwebs, he'd called it. Like her mind was locked up tight with a sticky substance he couldn't cut through. Whatever Kane had given her—had done to her—had closed her off from them.

Jovari's blood boiled every time he considered it. Every time he thought of what Kane had done to his queen. His perfect, selfless queen. If he allowed himself to dwell on it, he'd do something reckless. It was already taking a great deal of strength to keep Talon from being reckless.

"Let's land in those hills," he decided. "We can afford a few hours of rest, my king." Talon's answer was an annoyed growl. The king would starve himself, fly until his body stopped working, literally kill himself to get to her, if Jovari didn't step in, which he'd done repeatedly over the past week.

The worst had been crossing the ocean. It had taken two days, riding the wind currents without rest. They'd both collapsed onto a deserted stretch of beach after reaching land, stolen a few hours of sleep, only to take to the skies again, flying north-west.

He descended toward the hills in the distance. Roads stretched and curved across the landscape, with tiny vehicles traversing their lengths, headlights casting white pools of light across the otherwise dark landscape. They found an area that looked mostly uninhabited before dropping low enough to transform. Dawn was approaching. They'd have to be more careful now that they'd arrived in the United States of America.

Claire's home country. They were close. So close.

He spotted a nearby house, its lights shining like a beacon through the dark trees. He and Talon crept to it, quietly ascending the back porch stairs. "This one doesn't have cameras," he noted, relieved. They'd learned that the hard way early on.

Cameras. Little devices that recorded pictures. Those pictures then showed up on a thing called a screen. People could even view the recorded pictures on those hand held phones they carried in their pockets. The cameras alerted homeowners about intruders, which, both he and Talon were.

As they peered through the kitchen window, they caught sight of a television. His shoulders relaxed. He heard Talon's relieved exhale beside him. They shared a look, before focusing their gaze inside the house.

Humans loved watching news broadcasts, especially in the morning. This discovery had gone a long way in acclimating them to this world. First, by orienting them as to their whereabouts, and next, by helping them understand where Claire had ended up. That she'd been a popular topic for news stations everywhere had worked in their favor.

"...our sources are still working to uncover the latest surrounding the girl with the glowing tattoos," came the muted voice of a newscaster. "Marshal Whitley attempted to make contact earlier this week, however, her family was not interested in offering a statement."

A man holding a coffee cup padded into view in the kitchen, lifting a remote to turn up the volume. The dial on his kitchen clock showed it was 5:30am. He was half dressed.