The Girl and the Grove

by Eric Smith

“Hey!” Leila shouted, walking quickly towards him. “Hey! Way to not answer my text messages, you—”

  But before she could finish giving him the chewing out she felt he so rightly deserved, she saw the tears streaming down his eyes. His stubbly beard was slick with them.

  And there, cradled in his arms, was Milford, his darling owl.

  Leila ran and dropped down to her knees next to him, looking at the owl. Milford breathed in and out slowly. His eyes were closed and his single wing twitched.

  “What’s happening?” Leila asked.

  “I don’t know,” Landon said, choking back a sob. He looked up and towards the path leading back to the Trust. “They came in and closed the Trust this morning. They marked trees and brush for removal, taped up the grounds. I had Milford in the shed while things wrapped up. I . . . I thought maybe I’d try to keep him.”

  “Keep him? Oh. Oh, Landon.”

  “They’re going to just ship him away someplace. Lock him up in the museum’s animal center or in the zoo,” Landon said, cradling the owl. “I just can’t think of him not being able to keep trying to fly.” Landon sniffled and stood up with the owl. “I need to take him to an animal hospital, Leila. He’s been getting worse since the other day, and now he just won’t do anything. I found him on the bottom of his habitat. If I hadn’t gotten there first—”

  “Is this why you didn’t want to talk?” Leila asked, standing with him. “The Trust shuttering? Planning to take Milford away? We need to be united on this, Landon. Everyone thinks it’s just an early change of seasons, but we know better. You could have told me. I want to be there for you. I would have helped you plan something.”

  Landon looked at her and smiled through the tears, the flash of joy washing away just as quickly as it appeared. He grew serious.

  “Look, I have something to—”

  “Leila!” Sarika shouted from the path, running towards the two of them. “Landon, thank God we found you. Did you tell him? Oh.” Sarika stopped in her tracks as she got closer to the two of them and saw Milford. “Oh no. What happened?”

  “We have to go,” Landon said, walking out of the field. Leila and Sarika followed close behind him.

  “There’s an animal hospital up in University City that takes care of exotics,” he continued. “I’ve had friends at the Academy of Natural Sciences bring by chinchillas and other out-of-the-box critters.” His head dipped down as he looked at Milford. “I’m thinking maybe they’ll know how to fix him. People keep owls sometimes.”

  “Won’t they ask for a permit or something?” Sarika asked as they rushed along.

  “It’s just a chance I’ll have to take, I guess,” Landon said. “If worse comes to worst, I’ll say we found him. I’ve got my truck. I drove over today when I heard the news, basically speeding all the way here. We can drive up to University City.”

  They hurried silently down the trail back towards the shuttered Trust until they reached the exit, near the road that led away from the foundation and Fairmount Park along Kelly Drive. Looking at the stretch of road that moved along the Schuylkill River, Leila’s mind drifted towards the day when she saw Landon trying to fly Milford and promptly crashed her bike.

  Of Shawn, and that terrible first date and how he was trying to make up for things.

  Of the people currently jogging up the trails that moved along the river, the kids playing in the little break areas along the walkway, the fishermen swinging lines into the raging waters just a few feet away.

  None of them. Not one of them, except for Sarika next to her and Landon standing up ahead, his owl cradled in his arms, a faux leather wing attached to what remained of his natural one, had any idea what was happening in the woods right in front of them. To the world.

  “Leila!” Landon shouted.

  She broke out of her trance, and spotted Landon looking at her from inside his beat-up truck along the edge of the trail on the opposite side of the street. She hurried over with Sarika trailing behind.

  “I’m sorry. I’m sorry I didn’t message you back, but I just . . .” Landon started, fading off. “It’s complicated. I’ll tell you later. Hop in, I need one of you to hold Milford while I drive.”

  “Oh, dibs on that,” Sarika said, hopping into the back seat. Leila got into the passenger side as Landon gingerly passed Milford over into Sarika’s arms. The owl lay flat in her lap, breathing slowly with his eyes closed and beak open. “Oh Milly,” Sarika said, running a hand over the owl’s feathers. “You poor, sweet thing.”

  Landon gave Leila a look, and she smiled at him.

  Milly. Milford would hate that.

  He turned the key in the ignition, and wiped the tears away from his face.

  “Let’s go.”

  SARIKA: Leila this looks really bad.

  LEILA: Shh, don’t say that.

  LEILA: Think positive. For Milford.

  SARIKA: He isn’t really moving much.

  SARIKA: I’m scared.

  SARIKA: Won’t Landon get in a ton of trouble for having a wounded bird of prey? As a pet? Isn’t that super illegal?

  SARIKA: Will we get in trouble being with him?

  LEILA: Something tells me that won’t stop him.

  LEILA: Just make sure he keeps breathing.

  SARIKA: If he lives, I’ll never eat owl again.

  LEILA: What?

  SARIKA: It was a joke.

  LEILA: Oh thank God.

  SARIKA: Yeah I’m not gonna stop eating owl.

  LEILA: . . .

  SERVICE: ****1:37PM  76%

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  XXI

  Landon paced the length of the waiting room at the University of Pennsylvania’s Small Animal Hospital so many times that Leila lost count. Sarika fussed with her phone, gradually losing interest in the tension-filled waiting, while Leila waited for the moments when Landon looked up and locked eyes with her. Each time, his expression softened.

  Seeing him in the field like that, Milford in his arms, seemed to have broken something between them down.

  The door to the emergency room swung open, and a young veterinarian, tall with pale skin and light brown hair, walked through. Her features were cut with sharp lines, like she could be a model when she wasn’t busy helping people’s pets. She carried a clipboard and looked around the waiting room.

  “Milford?” she asked. “Are Milford’s, uh, owners here?”

  Leila’s heart sped up at the veterinarian’s pause before saying “owners,” and Landon looked over at her with a fraught expression.

  “That’s
us, er, me,” he muttered, walking over. Leila hopped up and went with him, with a glance over at Sarika, who was locked onto her phone. She stared down at it almost angrily. Someone was probably causing trouble on the board again.

  “Dr. Saft,” the vet introduced herself, shaking Landon’s hand and then Leila’s. “So, the good news is that Milford is stable. We’ve got him on an I.V. drip, just giving him fluids, as he’s extremely dehydrated from what we believe is poison.”

  “Poison?” Landon gasped, his eyes wide.

  “Yes, we managed to get him to have a bowel movement and cough up a rather uncomfortable pellet.” She continued, her face turned up with concern. “There was some blood, but not his. It was a nearly complete mouse, which we believe to be the source of the poison. Its fur was practically coated in it.”

  “That’s bizarre,” Landon said.

  “Well, it gets a little weirder. The mouse is a Southeastern Pennsylvania common field mouse, an incredibly endangered species,” she continued, looking at the clipboard. “One of our technicians is a volunteer at the Academy of Natural Sciences’ mammal’s archive, and recognized it right away.”

  Leila’s eyes widened.

  “Milford will be okay. I should stress that,” Dr. Saft continued. “You got him to us in time. Most owls who eat mice that have been poisoned, well, they end up with stomach hemorrhages that last a long time. Days, sometimes. But I still have some concerns. Can you explain, um,” she pulled Milford’s prosthetic wing out from behind her clipboard, “this?”

  It unfurled and squeaked a little as it swayed back and forth, dangling from her hand.

  “Oh,” Landon said, his shoulders sinking. “Look, I found him as a fledgling, he lost his wing, and I’ve been trying for years to help him fly. That’s one of his wings. I, uh, probably should have taken that off before coming here, but I wanted him to be comfortable.”

  “I see.” Dr. Saft smiled softly, and looked back at her clipboard. “Listen, Landon, I’m going to assume you left the permit for Milford at home, yes?”

  Landon’s eyes went wide and he looked over at Leila, and she smiled at him in return.

  “Y-yes?” Landon ventured.

  “Alright,” Dr. Saft said, making some notes on her clipboard. “Next time he needs an appointment, ask for me, and only me.” She looked up at him, her eyes intense. “I’ll make sure you’re both taken care of. You obviously love this little guy quite a bit. Usually when someone comes in here with an exotic bird or mammal, and they don’t have a permit, the animal is in rough shape or ends up being abandoned here. There’s a reason the Academy of Natural Sciences has three fennec foxes and a capybara.

  “Now, the bad news is that we will need to keep him for a few days,” she said, frowning. “The poison is still in his body, it’ll take a day or two before he’s back in action, and even then, he’s certainly going to be disoriented. He’ll probably act like he’s drunk.” She smiled. “I’d like to keep him under observation and care until he can safely leave.”

  Landon nodded and then looked down at the leather wing in his hands.

  He looked back up at Dr. Saft, and cleared his throat.

  “Could you, uh,” he cleared his throat again and sniffled. Leila reached out and put a hand on his arm, and he glanced down at her, tears welling in his eyes. “It’s silly, but can you put this on him once in a while? Please?”

  Dr. Saft took the wing and smiled, putting a consoling hand on Landon’s shoulder.

  “Don’t worry. I will,” she said. “Feel free to call anytime.” She reached into her white coat and plucked out a business card. “And check up on him. My line is on there. I need to stress, please call only me.” She looked at Leila and Landon intently. “We’re clear on all of this, right? I don’t have to explain anything?”

  Leila nodded, and Landon followed suit.

  “He’s got a big heart, this one,” Dr. Saft said, nodding at Landon while looking at Leila. “Hold on to him.” Landon looked down at Leila and quickly glanced away, awkwardly, and Leila could feel a bloom of warmth in her face. Dr. Saft winked, and made her way back towards the E.R.

  “Wait, Dr. Saft!” Leila exclaimed, taking a step forward. The vet spun around, and looked at her, eyebrows raised. “The owl pellet? With the mouse? Can we have it?”

  “Why?” Dr. Saft asked, her eyebrows up.

  “The section of the park where Milford ate that mouse is set to be torn down,” Leila said, her heart hammering in her chest, “unless we’re able to prove there’s something special about that place. Supposedly there is an endangered mouse living in the park. That pellet is just what we need.”

  Dr. Saft’s mouth twisted up.

  “Sure, I guess,” she said, shrugging. “It’s barely recognizable. I’m not sure it’ll help.”

  “We’ll take anything. Please.”

  “Alright, I’ll see what I can do.” She disappeared into the hospital.

  “I like her,” Leila said, turning back to Landon. He turned and looked down at her, smiling, his eyes still shining with old tears.

  “Are you okay?” Landon asked, his hand reaching out towards her face. Leila shrunk back and Landon grimaced. “Sorry, sorry. It’s just . . .” His eyes focused on the side of her face, and it was as though Leila could feel his gaze burning into her cheek. She lifted a hand up to the birthmark.

  “It’s nothing.” She exhaled. “I think,” she shook her head. “No, it’s crazy.”

  “Leila,” Landon said plainly. “Come on. We are past the point where anything—”

  “I think I’m changing with the dryads.” Leila choked back what felt like a hard cry at revealing what she’d suspected for the past few days. “Every time something outside gets worse: the birthmark, a little bit of my hair. It’s like I’m fading with the leaves.”

  Landon’s eyes grew hard.

  “We’ll stop this, Leila,” he said. “I promise.” He softened a little as they walked back over to Sarika in the lobby. “But listen, I haven’t been totally honest with you. Either of you, really. And—”

  “What are these from?” Leila interrupted, taking his hand and brushing her thumb over one of the scars. Everything was getting too real, and slipping away. The fading magic. The fading owl. She traced the calloused, bubbly, white-pink scar lines on the top of his hand, a welcome distraction.

  “Ah,” Landon said, taking his hand away and looking at the marks. He gave it right back to her with a soft smile. “Some are from Milford, the others are from accidents out in the park. This one is from slipping with a pocket knife while cutting some twine, this one is definitely a Milford claw, this one here is from a fall out of a tree, and cutting my hand on a saw on the way down.”

  “Geez,” Leila gasped.

  “Yeah, it’s not all easy work.” He grew quiet and squeezed her hand again.

  “Leila, look, I have to say something—” he started.

  “Oh, just tell her already,” Sarika grumbled, staring at her phone.

  “What is with you right now?” Leila snapped. “What’s on there that’s so important?”

  “While you two are making kissy faces at one another,” Sarika said, sounding exhausted, “I’ve been looking up reasons a birthmark might spread. Yes, I’ve noticed, even though you weren’t talking about it. I’ve also been trying to organize the message board to come help us out, and fussing with the social media campaign to make it more about endangered animals and less about the buildings and the history.”

  She looked up at Landon, her eyes hard.

  “But you know about some of that, don’t you, Landon?” she asked. “The campaign? The board?”

  “Um, how did you . . .?” Landon muttered, looking back and forth between Leila and Sarika, his eyes wide. “This isn’t how I wanted to bring this up.”

  “Landon?” Leila asked, letting go of his hand. �
��What is it?”

  “Look, it’s not that big a deal, but—”

  “Milford?” Dr. Saft returned from the E.R. and was awkwardly holding a small, plastic case, a displeased look on her face. The container was transparent, and bits of red and brown speckled with white were visible. Leila grimaced as she stood up and walked towards the vet with Landon, not eager to peek inside the plastic container full of fur and blood and bone.

  “Ah, there you are.” Dr. Saft smiled, holding out the bin with a grimace. “Here, please take it. I see plenty of bones and blood and other gross things every day, but owl vomit is just about my limit.”

  “Great, great,” Landon said, nodding, the enthusiasm gone from his voice.

  “Hey, would it make you feel better,” Dr. Saft looked around the waiting room and then peeked back in the E.R., “if you got to see him really quick?”

  Landon’s eyes lit up, and Leila’s heart fluttered.

  “Thought so.” Dr. Saft took another peek. “Let’s go.”

  Landon grabbed Leila’s hand, and they followed Dr. Saft into the animal E.R. A handful of other veterinarians were walking up and down the hallways, looking busy and harried, with clipboards or medical gadgets in their hands. They gave Leila and Landon quick glances before continuing on their way to whatever they were doing. Surgery on iguanas? Casts on broken guinea pig legs? Exotic animal hospitals seemed like a place where odd things happened.

  Dr. Saft looked around and opened the door to a small room where Milford lay, sprawled out on a small, beige table with a blanket over his little body. His good wing hung free over the edge of the table. Fluid dripped gently through an IV line.

  Landon let go of Leila’s hand and brought both of his hands up to his face. His eyes watered. He walked up to the table.

  “Careful now,” Dr. Saft said. “He needs to rest.”

  “You know, I . . .” He sighed and shook his head. “I almost named him Toothless,” Landon said, standing next to the table.

  Leila stared at him.

  That name.

  Realization washed over her in waves.

  “You know, after How to Train Your Dragon? When I was little my mom would read me those stories, and I was just obsessed. Did you ever read them? Watch the movie?”